Hunting Scammers... 8/16/20
If you don’t care about the background skip to: [************************************************] So... I am in a unique position where I am aware of new and old scams daily. I often help those that are wronged and I frequently pass this information along to family so they don’t fall prey...
Recently my mother told me that she was a victim of a scam, but not just a few hundred dollars, not a few thousand... She got taken for around $125,000, 401k cleaned out, retirement gone, second mortgage, credit cards opened and maxed out, sold her car, loans taken out and emptied...
How did they do it? They hacked a Facebook account of one of her cousins and that compromised account blasted out the message: “Hey I just got a grant from the IDA (Independent Development Association) I saw your name on the list, did you get your $150,000 check yet?”
That spiral led into her texting an “agent” who got all of her information and told her that she needed to pay for the secure courier which was $1,000... Months go by with regular contact, always a new “problem” like “the check got delayed here for a customs check and you need to pay $500”. They told her that she was bound to secrecy as if she told anyone beyond my step dad, they would be disqualified. They told her that they needed to monitor her phone calls to make sure she didn’t tell anyone, they provided her with a “court order subpoena” which was obviously fake, but she didn’t know. They logged into her cell account and ordered 20+ new iPhone 11 Pro Max from her cell provider on her credit. Then they actually paid her account for 2 months before ghosting her... They hacked her Facebook and tried to recruit more people into their scam...
It was always a promise of more money if you do this or that... $150,000 then $250,000 all the way to $750,000...
[************************************************]
Preface: Always be safe when scam hunting/baiting Use an encrypted email (ProtonMail is free) Use a good proxy/VPN (pay for it, it’s worth it) NEVER give out your personal details
I got all the information from my mother about: The phone number she texted. The person she talked to. Where/who she shipped the cell phones to. Where/who she sent cash to.
(1) First contact/a little payback
From that I started by contacting the scammer... My Facebook is already locked down so the information you get from my profile is very little, I reached out to my mother’s compromised FB through messenger and got a bite. They told me to text a number from the US to which I happily obliged.
I used a texting app in conjunction with a VPN on my computer running a VM (virtual machine) I can control all the information released like OS, browser and such if they know how to look it’ll all be spoofed.
I spoke with the scammer who had me “fill out a form” and he was working from a script, which is hard to break them from...
This form he sent me, he accidentally forgot to clear it off from the last person he scammed so I had all of the information from the victim *I immediately call this guy and saved him before he sent any money luckily.
So I digress, I occupy the scammers time for about 6 hours, giving him issues and excuses finally getting him off script. He directs me to a “local” bitcoin ATM to send a deposit of $1,500. I go through a host of issues while he gave me his first BTC address. I google a good picture of a bitcoin ATM and began photoshopping error messages until I had an epiphany...
I told the scammer that the machine was giving me an error that his account was unverified and that he needed to “mirror” the transaction by first sending me $1,500 to unlock the transfer and it would be immediately refunded and my “$1,500” would be sent too. Unfortunately it didn’t work, so he gives me the second BTC address. What do ya know, same error lol...
After a back and forth for about an hour, I couldn’t believe it, he agreed to “mirror” the transaction... So I scrambled to get a clean BTC address and sent it to him. He agreed to send $200 to see if it worked... Low and behold I just received $200... So what do I do next? Give in? No. I just changed the photoshop to say “Pending $1,300” now lol...
He bit, hard. After more talking and pretending to be a helpless 64 year old guy with $20,000 ready to give him the scammer saw green and got greedy... More debate, more discussion, he sent another $500. Give in now? No... Back to photoshop... “Pending $800” To cut it short, he sure as hell sent the other $800... After a back and forth I sent him doctored up transaction receipts saying it was all transferred back to him. Getting him off script and getting him to pay a fraction of what he stole, is that enough? No. I promptly withdrew the money and gave it to my mom, it wasn’t much but just a little victory for now...
(2) Finding the mules
The next day the scammer cuts all contact with me, so I spoof a new number and call him. It rings and goes to voicemail and I hear his voice, sounds distorted with a British accent but broken English, I assume African. I leave only my telephone number on the recording saying “call me back” (we’ll come back to this)
I move on to the places the phones were sent, first up, an apartment complex about an hour from me. But I’m not looking for a direct contact situation as I don’t know who or what they’re capable of... So I get the shipping details and find a very unique name but for Reddit we’ll call her Mrs. “E”.
I begin tearing into her life, public records, credit report info, and phone records, I get it all... Time to make contact, I send an unassuming text to her number, asking for help. Surprisingly she responded, I began by asking her about a shipment she got in and the name of the shipping company she was receiving packages for. Radio silence for a few hours, then the denial began... I hit her with the hard facts, and just enough information so she knows I know everything about her...
Mrs. E breaks and gives me the info I need. She was contacted by a friend who owns a shipping company in Lagos, Nigeria, they asked her to take the package of iPhones and forward them to him via another courier service. Mrs. E gave me everything.
Next is Mrs. R who my mother sent actual cash to... I looked up the address and find it’s a duplex in Midwest. So I do a quick search of the name and nothing comes up... I then use the County Assessment District to get the public tax records and owner information. I contact the owner and give him the name I have and explain why I’m looking for her information. He gave me all the details he could as Mrs. R is the girlfriend of his tenant and the name I had was wrong. Waiting to get Mrs. R’s records right now I’ll get everything on her just like Mrs. E, she’ll bend to my will.
(3) International Phone Calls
So while I was searching for Mrs. R’s records I get a phone call... It’s a Nigerian number... I answered and find out it’s my scammer that I left a message for... This genius calls me from his actual cell number, which is not the number I called and left a message for. Currently working on getting his subscriber information but it’s proving hard (if anyone can help reply).
I call up the owner of the shipping company in Nigeria and tell him that I’m looking for shipping details and quotes, I’m still working on his information... He’s a pleasant person to talk to, I will ruin him...
So that’s where I’m at for now, but I definitely will keep you all updated.
Mini-update 8/16/20: The owner of the shipping company apologized that his courier service had anything to do with the transactions. I’m not sure if I believe that but he did give me a name and 2 phone numbers he had on file for the customer. I’m really needing someone who can check these numbers out... If I can get a carrier identified I can work my magic on them to get the info I need.
Update #1: 8/17/2020 Today I got all of Mrs. “R”s info minus good contact information... Pitty... But I’ll find it. The number on her file with her last loan didn’t pan out... I’ll come back to this tomorrow...
I back traced the scammers cell phones with a little help from a friend, both phones are confirmed cell phones with active service with 2 different cell phone providers in Nigeria. I’m still lacking on the subscriber information, but I know where to look now... I reached out to the Nigerian Police Force to see if they can help, I doubt they can but you never know what you can get without asking...
The scammer himself reached out to another dummy account I set up. I gave him a little scare, he asked who referred me to him... I gave him his own name, he hasn’t responded yet...
https://imgur.com/gallery/EvfLcgy
Update #2: 8/31/2020 So after name dropping the scammer I got dead silence. Luckily I was able to capture his IP address. I worked with a few contacts I made and found he was using the “Text Now” app, did a little magic and found out the “main scammer” actually is working in a call center.
But interestingly enough I found that the workers there on average make like $500usd a month... (more on that later)
So I have numerous fake Facebook accounts optimized for international connections, even though they look and are set up American, with them connected to the profiles from Africa or Russia, you can set your profile up to show up to them first, and you’ll be flooded with friends and messages...
Another scammer reached out to me and I played along and made friends with them. I ran a game on him for a little bit and just came out and told him what I was trying to do. I asked him to help me, but it was off how he was replying, I called him on the phone and he told me that he was “busy in the office”. So he ghosted me, or so I thought...
I get a text message from a Nigerian number that I did not know a few hours later. He tells me that he was the one I was talking to, he went on to explain that everything they do is monitored, there are about 20 of them in this room with computers, and several cell phones at their station. This guy goes on to explain that he controls about 15 different profiles, as many phone numbers as he can, and several emails, all of which are for scamming.
So I think I’ve just developed an asset in Nigeria........ He has agreed to help me for money. He explained to me that he pulls on average $40,000 usd a month, I don’t know if that figure is true, but it’s believable...
Mr. Asset goes on to tell me that if they hit their goal they make $250 a month, and for every so many $$$’s above their goal they get bonuses.
So ladies and gents’ I’ve got boots on the ground. (Hopefully) I’ll keep you all updated.
Not officially an update but figured I’d share it anyway! https://www.reddit.com/SuicideWatch/comments/ikfno1/went_looking_to_ruin_a_life_ended_up_saving_one/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf

Obligatory Filler Material - Hunting my quarry in the Emirates, Part Two

Continuing
“I, ah, gathered as much from the name of your company,” I responded.
“Yes”, he continued, totally unfazed, “We have been in operation for over 55 years. To deliver premium marble, we have our own quarries at Booshwah and Ikra, a state-of-the-art cutting and polishing facility at Blue Sail spread over 10.5 hectares with an excellent local and international distribution system. Driven by our core philosophy of quality and trust, we pride ourselves on delivering quality marble slabs, tiles, steps, raises, monuments a well as raw marble slabs and blocks using advanced technology in the capable hands of our expert engineers, experienced senior management, and a large workforce.”
“How nice”, I reply, “Nice copy you’re reading there. Any reason for the commercial?”
“Ah, yes, Doctor”, he continues, “As I said, we’ve been quarrying here for over 50 years. We like to think we have a good idea of both the geology and the geodynamics of or quarry’s rocks. We’ve had no problem extracting rectilinear blocks for decades, however recently, that situation has changed somewhat.”
“OK, I see.” I said, “Blocks not acting correctly, correct? They’re fracturing along planes never before encountered? Is that a fair assessment?”
“Correct, Doctor”, he ripostes, “It appears we have contacted the right person for this problem.”
“OK, so for years you’ve been able to extract nice, orthogonal blocks, but now…” I trailed off.
“Yes”, he notes, "In a quarry where you extract rocks for decorative stones you need to delicately extract these big rocks. We don't use explosives because that destroys the rock. [Ahem.] You need to remove a big block and take it to a factory for cutting and polishing. The blocks suddenly have taken to fracturing at unusual angles."
“I see”, I replied. “I think I’ve got this…”
It’s a common complaint from dimension stone quarries. The local geodynamic gradient has changed, there’s unloading in the quarry from the removal of the blocks or there’s some underlying, though subtle, tectonostructural shift that the quarry operators have neglected to note and take into account.
Just as a bit of an aside, these ‘marble’ quarries are unique. They’re formed of what is referred to as ‘exotic blocks’. The ‘exotic limestones of the Arabian Gulf’ (referred to as ‘exotics’) are Middle to Upper Permian and Upper Triassic age fossiliferous rubblized limestone.
The rocks do not extend far laterally but occur as isolated outcrops underlain by volcanic Early Permian to Lower Triassic rocks. They are mainly calcirudite made up of calcite-rich limestone debris accumulated on top of seamounts, i.e., on inactive volcanoes as atoll deposits. Detailed geological studies on the Hawasina group volcanic and metamorphic rocks and the Semail Ophiolite sequence denote the presence of these exotics in the Oman and Emirates Mountains.
The exotics are classified mainly as:

Permian and Triassic shallow-marine facies,

B. Deep-water facies: Permian-Triassic Jebel Qamar Facies and Triassic-Lower Jurassic megabreccias, and
iii. Upper Cretaceous oȫlitic limestone syntectonic-sediment facies.
The shallow-marine facies exotics of Middle-Upper Permian are massive gray composed exclusively of coral-algal boundstones with varying amounts of bryozoan, stromatoporoid, and skeletal fragments, including brachiopods, gastropods, and echinoderm plates. They are typically less than 100 m thick (rarely exceed 200 m). The exotics of Permian age are limited to a thickness of 200 m while the Upper Triassic exotics have a thickness of almost 1000 m.
By the strictest definition, they are not true ‘marble’, which is dynamothermally altered limestone or dolomite. However, the term is utilized commercially here for years and has come to be an accepted bit of nomenclature.
Anyways, in such bodies of carbonates, they respond outwardly to the stress regime of their emplacement as well as their deposition. Often, these two stress fields are widely different and leach leaves its own strain-resultant features on the rock.
Typically, there are three principal axes of stress, which give rise to three different principal joint, fracture, or failure modes and directions. These are denoted as sigma 1, sigma 2, and sigma 3 (σ^1, σ² & σ^3); with sigma one being the dominant failure axis, sigma two the second, and so on.
These axes generate a number of differing failure-related features: faults, fractures, joints, and fissures. Faults have relative motion, that is left-right, up-down or oblique-oblique (side to side). The rest are in situ breaks or zones of weakness that do not have much relative motion other than openings.
It is key to quarrying to exploit these features. The rocks will fracture indefinite and predictable patterns once the stress fields have been sussed out. That’s why they could get by without explosives previously. But with the now changed stress fields, they’re going to have to possibly up their game as it appears the stress fields are more randomly oriented. They will have to utilize more hydraulic horsepower, or chemical detonic horsepower, per ton to harvest unfractured and intact blocks.
Now, I think I’ve got the idea why he’s called.
“So”, I continue, “Your blocks have been fracturing and shattering in weird and unusual patterns, right?”
“That’s right”, he replies, “It’s a recent manifestation. We are at a loss as to the reasons why.”
“Have you had any geologists map the quarry as it now stands?” I ask
“Well”, he replies, “We don’t have any geologists on the payroll. We’ve had some university geologists and students out here doing some mapping, but they are typically looking at other parameters of the quarry other than its commerciality.”
“That makes sense”, I note, “Well, Mr. Usman, looks like you need to hire a really crackerjack sedimentologist and structural geologist to come out and help you determine what’s changed. Then you figure out a plan of attack to exploit these new features you’re seeing in your operations.”
“Ah, yes, precisely”, he replies, “That is the reason for my call today.”
“But I called you”, I replied, half in jest.
“Yes, indeed’, he notes, “So, Doctor, do you think you could help us out in this matter?”
“Oh, most assuredly.”, I reply, “But first, there is a small matter of my compensation. I must warn you, as of late, my contract must include certain benefits such as medical insurance and hospitalization.” I reply winching at my mending ribs as I reached for my latest liquoriferous libation.
“That will present no problem”, he says, “What must we do to have you come here to help us?”
“OK, First, I need to speak with my General Manager. After that, if all is still ‘go’, I will send you my custom-made contract. It will include transport, of course, as well as my compensation and, ah, other considerations.”
“Excellent”, he replies, “Please send your contract to [email protected] and we’ll proceed with all haste.”
“Sounds like a plan, Mr. Usman” I note, “Expect a reply here in the near term.”
We exchange pleasantries and disconnect.
“ES!” I shout, “Need to pack. Got me a new job!”
“Maybe you do, maybe you don’t”, Esme icily replies. “You’re not even healed up from that last go-round. Sit. Speak”.
“Oh, my dear”, I reply as unctuously as a melted Turtle Sundae running down the rear-speaker deck of that ’58 Chevy you’ve just restored, “It’s nothing like that. Simple quarry mapping job. Map some fractures, figure out stress fields, give them a new operational protocol, bank the proceeds.”
“Where this time? Mozambique? Outer Slobbovia? Northeastern Wherethefuckistan?” she asks icily.
“Nope.”, I reply triumphantly, “Here in the Emirates. About 90 clicks due north.”
“Really?”, her guard begins to lower slightly.
“Yep”, I reply, “Exotic block ‘marble’ quarry. Their blocks are suddenly acting all wonky and they can’t figure out why.”
“That’s elementary geology”, Esme states, “Real Geology 101 stuff.”
“I know, I know”, I reply, “But they’re desperate and have no geologist on-site. Easy money. Walk in the park. Piece of pie. Easy as cake…”
“Well…OK…I guess if it’s just a mapping job.” She says.
“Thank you, m’dear”, I reply and give her a tight hug, from which I wince.
Bloody ribs.
“I’ll be careful. It’ll be safe as houses. What could possibly go wrong on such a simple job?”
“Oh, knowing you”, Es remarks, “You’ll find ways to make it interesting and potentially life-threatening.”
“You know me too well”, I say, give her a quick kiss and head to the laptop to gin up a new, custom-built contract.
I decide it’ll take a couple of days, at best, to sort out this little problem. I send off my new contract, and within three hours, I have a signed copy sitting on my desk.
“They must really be desperate” I chuckle to Esme. “Look at this. Door-to-door, take-or-pay, triple-pay force majeure and they didn’t bat an eyelash at my per diem.”
“Very nice”, Esme says, visions of shopping sprees dancing in her head. “Now, how are you going to get there and back? Rental car?”
“Nope”, I replied, “That ball’s in their court. I figure they’ll either send a driver or have me hire one here on their nickel. I’m certainly not driving with these cranky ribs, especially in even this COVID-ly reduced Dubai traffic”
Three hours later, I’m standing on the helipad of the hospital that’s conveniently located just a few doors down from our hotel. The quarry owners must have some wasta as they wrangled their OK for landing a company helicopter on the hospital helipad.
It sometimes amazes me how things work out here in Sand Land…
The quarry time-shares a helicopter with other marble and copper operators in the region. I guess it saves time when mucking about the jagged and disorderly mountains out in their neck of the woods.
I have my vest, science kit, very cool Red Adair-style hardhat, Ray-Bans, and one luggage case. I have another case with my scientific devices: Brunton Compass, theodolite, tripod, cameras, lenses, sat phone, and the like.
I also have my flasks and cigars packed.
Of course. There’s work to be done. This might be a dry location.
Right on time, a Bell 206B Jet Ranger III flares out of the midafternoon murk and lands lightly on the helipad. I wait until the rotorcraft spools down before I make my way over. In fact, I’m waiting until someone comes out and grabs my Haliburton case. Remember, I’m still nursing a triplet of busted ribs from my last little adventure.
One of the more expendable quarry workers scurries over and grabs my luggage. He bids me to follow him to the helicopter.
Once seated, headphoned-in, and comfy, we spool up to 110% and are airborne.
I ask the pilot how long we’ll be flying and he replies that it should only be about a half-hour, 45 minutes max; three weeks at the outside...
A funny pilot. Just what I need right now.
Hell, if that’s the case, I’ll fly ‘home’ each night and have them pick me up in the mornings.
Just like if I had a real job…
Over coffee and sandwiches in the field office, I am thinking “Great, here we go again”, I am given the lowdown on the operation.
Just as surmised, they opened a new, structurally higher portion of the quarry. Things have changed dramatically: carbonate facies are changed, the depositional environment is different, adjunct mineralization has transformed, the structural regime is new and to them, intractable.
“OK, gents”, I said as I stood to stretch out a bit, “I need a tour of the quarry. I’m not keen on walking, I saw an open jeep outside. I need to commandeer that and a driver.”
“Not a problem, Doctor.”, Mr. Usman states, “We’re so glad you are here. Can-do American no-nonsense get-right-down-to-business attitude.”
In this part of the world, that can be classified as a superpower.
My driver is a local, one Bassil al-Momin. He’s worked at this quarry for over 25 years and if anyone has an idea of what’s going on, he’d be the one.
We pile into the jeep and I admonish him to take it easy. The floor of the quarry is flat as a pool table, but getting to the quarry requires some serious four-wheeling due to all the waste rock and rubbish piles of fractured marble discarded from operations.
Bassil is not only a good driver, he’s fairly knowledgeable on the local geology. He gives me a play-by-play as he notes how the lower quarry reaches produce nifty rectilinear blocks and the upper quarry branches produce more gravel than blocks.
The upper quarry is where we’re headed. It’s a general mess with busted exotic blocks littering the area higgledy-piggledy.
“What a mess.” I snort, “You’re telling me they don’t use explosives? I asked.
The place looks like an A-10 Warthog target-practice range.
“No, Doctor”, Bassil replies, “Ever since we’ve opened this new area of the quarry, the rocks have been acting most unsystematically. They are breaking in ways we’ve not seen here in over 5 decades of operations.
“Yeah”, I think, “He’s a company man.”
We wheel up close to the latest workings. There’s so much broken marble and cobbled calcium carbonate around, it’s obscuring the contacts. Hard to tell what’s going on when you’re unable to see the forest for the trees, as it were.
“Damn”, I say, “Can’t tell a thing with all this rubble lying around.”
I kick at some jumbled hunks of marbleized limestone, with just a hint of dolomite.
“Need to clear some of this stuff away…” I muse to no one in particular.
As we round the corner, there sits a rusty, beat up, obviously working D-6 caterpillar bulldozer.
“Hey, Bassil”, I say, “That Cat up and running?”
“Yes, sir”, he replies, “But our operators are all back at base…why are you smiling like that?”
“Oh, nothing”, I say. “Keys in the thing?”
Yes”, he replies, “No one hereabouts but company personnel.”
“I see”, I said, “You don’t have any objections to me firing it up to clear away some of this clutter, do you?”
“Are you licensed?” he asks.
“Most assuredly”, I reply, I’m an old Cat-skinner from way back. Usually D-9’s or D-10’s, but the principle is the same.”
“I have no objection”, he replies.
I’m up, painfully, into the driver’s seat. Give the keys a twist, pump the throttle a bit and the old machine belches a column of black smoke, coughs, sputters, and roars to life.
“Easy peasy”, I think. I check it over to see that the area’s clear, drop it into granny low, raise the blade, and back it up about 5 meters.
Thus clear, I shift to forward and ease the throttle ahead.
I hadn’t gone 10 meters when there’s this swarthy looking gentleman standing in my way, screaming something to me.
“What?” I yelled back as I slowed even further, waving him off.
“GET…OFF…MY…MACHINE!” He yells.
“Sorry, mate”, I yell back, “Can’t hear you. Get the fuck out of the way.”
He dances from one foot to the other and is most agitated.
I slow to a stop and turn to look, but he’s gone, running flat out towards the Cat.
He makes a gazelle-like leap and jumps up on the machine. He’s screaming about me driving “his” machine and that I need to shut it down and get off immediately.
“Sorry, mate.” I say, “I’m the new hookin’ bull here. I need to borrow ‘your’ Cat for about 10 minutes. Now get off before you fall off.”
He is going absolutely crimson. Once past that, he’s gone to violent violet. Then to plaid.
He’s that pissed.
He pulls a large Gurkha-style knife and brandishes it in my general direction; making all sorts of unintelligible, though obviously annoyed, noises.
He’s huffing and puffing as he swings that pig-sticker of his to and fro.
Then he goes almost catatonic. He seems terrified, but much more focused.
As he stares down the Holland Tunnel of the bore of a bespoke 10 millimeter Sig Sauer.
“Now, now”, I tut, “Let’s be all calm and gentlemanly, shall we?”
He slides the knife back into its home as I shut down the Cat.
“Now then”, I say, as I stand, “That’s much better. I think we need a quick talk. Now get off this machine and stand there by the blade whilst I dismount.”
Sig still in hand, but lowered, I walk to the blade of the contraption and ask the gentleman exactly what seems to be his problem.
“Look you goofy sumbitch”, I holler, “You always pull knives on Doctors of Geology your company hires to get you back into production?”
He looked a bit perplexed. Dumbfounded. Confused.
“I’m Dr. Rocknocker. You can call me ‘Rock’, “ I say, “I was hired by your bosses to come down here and fix your little problems. So you can get back to production. I’m the hookin’ bull here, Scooter. In fact, I’m the Motherfucking Pro from Dover, you savvy? And you have the temerity, the unmitigated gall to pull a knife on me?”
“You’re Doctor Rock?” he asks.
“I do believe I just alluded to that fact”, I reply, holstering the Sig.
“A thousand pardons”, Amir Reza Abedi says, as that was his name, “I didn’t know you knew how to drive a tractor. Bassil did not tell us.”
“So you took things into your own hands and jumped the Cat to gut the guy driving?” I said, “Not a terribly clever way of conducting business, is it?”
“Amir apologizes”, he says, “But that is my machine. I am its driver.”
“Not anymore.” I reply, “For just a half-hour, I need to borrow it so I can tell what’s going on around here. We green?”
Amir was green, but not in agreement. His limited capacity just told him he almost became room temperature due to an egregious mistake.
“OK, let’s forget all this, “ I said, “I’m taking the Cat and do a little dozing. I won’t hurt it, in fact, I’ve probably been driving one of these things longer than you’ve been breathing air. OK?”
“Oh, most certainly”, he agrees. He sees my open vest and both my new little Rack and Ruin supplied noisemakers.
”For snakes”, I chuckled. “No harm, no foul. Just ask me next time. No gutting necessary.”
Back on the Cat, it took about 15 minutes to doze piles of rubble out of the way and dipping the blade, I was able to expose the contact between this new piece of geodynamics and the underlying strata.
The problem became immediately obvious. This wasn’t going to be a place of extracting anything other than road metal and railroad ballast. The fractures and drainages I saw in the rocks noted that most clearly.
Back at home base, I told the quarry operators of my discoveries. I told them that I needed about 2-3 days of field mapping and I could give them more definitive answers.
I had an ace or two up my sleeve.
They agreed, and I flew back to the hospital next to the hotel. I told the pilot I wanted to be skids-up at 0600 the next day. The next few days in fact. I could grind this out in two good field days and one good write-up day.
Over dinner, Esme was pleased that the job was going to be short, and profitable. She was also pleased that I’d be home after work just like any other 9-5 schlub.
“Just don’t insist on flying, please”, Es exhorted me. “Let their pilots do all the stick and rudder work.”
Spoilsport.
However, I agreed.
So, for the next couple of days, I trooped around the quarry, measuring this and delimiting that. I asked if they had some Primacord and C-4 lying around. They said they did not, but since I was licensed, I could make a requisition, and it would be fulfilled.
I had determined that the new part of the quarry they opened was never going to amount to anything, dimension-stone wise. However, it wasn’t all a total loss.
We’ll see that in a few.
I figured out the stress directions and noted that if they opened the area to the northeast, they’d be wading in gravy once again. They had gone to the southwest and discovered something else, something unique, something wonderful.
Out in the field, I had wired the southeast portion of the new quarry to blast some of the standing and offending rock. I decided that being an inveterate showman, I had to get them all out there to witness the unveiling.
That was after I did a small amount of blasting in the northeast part of the new, new quarry. Blocks of nicely rectilinear marble, just like in the quarry proper.
I wasted some orange spray paint, laid out the fracture and joint patterns, along with the conjugate joint patterns. Then I set some small charges and demonstrated how explosives can and will yield nicely freed orthogonal blocks, just if you have someone who knows what he’s doing.
They were thrilled.
Then we went back down to the southwestern portion of the quarry. It was wired and ready to be fired. I gave them a real show, with three-part harmony in the language of my people…
CLEAR NORTH and so on.
FIRE IN THE HOLE!
“Gents, you might want to cover your ears,” I said.
“HIT IT!”
KA-BLAMM-OOO-WHAMO!
When the dust and debris settled, there was an open portal into the very heart of some of the prettiest exotic marble anyone’s ever seen.
It was the opening to a cavern, complete with all sorts of nifty speleothems like curtain rock, flowstones, cave pearls, cave bacon, stalagmites, stalactites, helictites…a veritable spelunking sinkhole smorgasbord.
My spelunking days are long over, so I had no idea how extensive this little cavern was. I do know of its genesis and it’s one of the few found in the Exotic blocks here or afield.
“Gents’, “I said with a flourish, “Here you go. Another money-maker. Your very own cave system. Get with the universities, they’ll go nuts to map it for you, free of charge. Then turn it into a tourist attraction. You’re not so far from Dubai to siphon off some of that tourist dough.”
They were enthralled.
Back at the base office, there were cigars, toasts, and even a few EtOH-laden libations.
I mean, money is money, right?
I received a nice primary check for 5 days of work. I received an even nicer bonus for finding and opening the cave for them. Already, there were several local university geology departments clamoring to be first in to map the thing.
I almost talked the pilot into letting me fly back to the hospital helipad. Damn, but I had a bit of the wet stuff, and by law, I couldn’t. Would have been nice, though.
Which I find to be a fitting conclusion to the Rocknocker and Esme saga in the Middle East. I sent Es on ahead as I wrangled a ride back to the Sultanate. I’ve already had the movers in to give a preliminary idea of the cost to ship our stuff back to the states.
If all goes to plan, and when the hell does that ever happen around here? We should be out of the Middle East, for good, within a week. I need to oversee the packing and shipping and somehow wrangle a flight out of here to London, Amsterdam, or Frankfurt.
After that, I’m USA bound.
So that, my friends, is that. The end of an era and the next time we meet, it’ll be with me and Esme back in the US at our new northern digs. So, I’ll be out of pocket for a while.
I’ll drop by on occasion but there’s going to be a hiatus in Rocknocker stories for a while.
However, fear not.
There are still many tales for Demolition Days and I’m certain the shift 13,500 kilometers west will engender its own Obligatory Filler Material sagas.
Until then: Shiny side up, greasy side down.
Catch you all on the flip-flop.
Dr. Rocknocker signing out for now. Back in a bit with some new stories, new gripes, and new tales from the bar side.

30

The HEL Jumper [Chapter 3.7]

Book 1 of The HEL Jumper
Book 2 of The HEL Jumper
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Bonus (NSFW, no nudity) Art of our favorite French Dame!
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“Alice! My dear, what happened to your arm?” Yvonne demanded as she would of her own daughter, taking Alice into a compassionate but tender hug.
“How about answering where she’s been for the last forty eight hours, hmm?” Gerard suggested, waiting politely for the girls to finish their greeting. Xan didn’t bother hiding his surprise when Alice turned and embraced the older human male as well. The feeling of apartness and otherness only grew for the young Cauthan.
“I uh…” Alice mumbled as she pulled away. “Well, you see there was a bit of this and a bit of that…”
“Alice,” Yvonne cut her off sternly, a hand on her hip. The young human brought her fingers together.
“Well, when I say this and that I mean galactic politics and xenoanthropology and I really don’t know how much of this is classified and why are you two here anyway?!” She rambled without taking a breath. When that failed the young scientist tried a new tack, taking note of Yvonne’s new, voluminous hairdo. “I really like what you’ve done with your hair by the way. Didn’t know we had a salon aboard.”
“We do not,” Yvonne said sharply, reminding Alice very much of Gentia. Gerard found it necessary to step in at that point, placing a hand on Alice’s shoulder.
“Before we come off as too rude to our guest here,” he advised with a pointed look at Xan. When the Cauthan met his eyes he nodded amicably. “Alice, don’t you think you could at least have sent a message or a note? Shuttles to the surface every day, neither sound nor sight of you since you rushed off to find your brother…”
“Do not coddle her, mon loup! I had to do this with my hair to stop myself from tearing it out!” Yvonne exclaimed, beset upon by mild hysteria. “And now she comes back with a young alien man, we have a quarantine zone aboard the ship which of course we violated because why would you not, Gerard? She is injured and-”
“I’m really sorry, Yvonne. I should have sent a message once the comm links were set up. I just...figured Natori would tell you two that I was alright. There was a lot of science and culture and my brother’s married and...forgive me?” Alice’s genuine apology obliterated Yvonne’s stern exterior completely, and the motherly doctor embraced her anew.
“Oh my dear, of course everything is forgiven just do not do this to me again!” She insisted anxiously. “And what did you say? Your brother is married?!”
“Yvonne, you are never going to believe this…these aliens, the Cauthan, the potential is limitless!”
As the inevitable occurred before them, the ever reserved Gerard looked over at Xan. “All's well that ends well, I suppose. Gerard Dupuis, cellular biologist and geneticist at your service, young man. I assume you can understand me on account of that little piece in your ear? Ah…you are a young man, are you not? I do not mean to be rude.”
“I understood only about half of what you just said, but I guess that’s just how today is going to go. Yeah, I’m a male. Name’s Xan…just Xan,” the Cauthan replied, figuring that if the two older humans before him were as friendly as they were with Alice, he was not in immediate danger. He held out his forearm while Gerard did the same with his hand. The two studied one another silently for a moment before Alice practically leapt into the picture.
“Eh!” She made what could only be described as a comical noise as she took Gerard’s arm and repositioned it. She repeated the noise and grabbed Xan’s arm before bringing the two together with a “boop! There you go, one Cauthan greeting between men complete!”
The two males could only watch her back as she retreated a few paces to continue her animated conversation with Yvonne, no doubt eager to fill the French matron in on the fact that she had a sister-in-law from Mara, among other things. “So…you know her?” Xan finally asked Gerard.
“She is an exceptional young woman and something of a protégée, colleague, and adopted daughter all in one, as you can see,” he replied. “And I apologize for my earlier introduction, Xan. I am a man of learning, though I am not sure how well I can explain my discipline to you.”
“I’ve been getting that a lot lately, but I am considered such among my people as well,” Xan assured him. “I’m still trying to figure out how you humans got this much metal all in one place…and why you’re spending your time on primitives like us.” His words caused Gerard to cross his arms over his chest and then stroke his moustache, taking a measure of the young lad. His eyes landed on the polished bone cane and its inscription.
“Death be not proud...” he whispered with increasing approval. “I can only speak for myself, but you seem to me as a young man with quite the story. That alone, to me, is worth understanding.”
“Those stories aren’t for you,” Xan replied coolly.
“But of course. We have just been introduced! Perhaps one day,” Gerard suggested, clearly unconcerned as he lowered his voice. “But you can see it on Alice’s face, no? She is ecstatic at having met you and your people.”
“She’s always excited about something,” Xan remarked with equal stealth. To his surprise, Gerard’s face shifted in a way that seemed to indicate displeasure or stress. Again his fingers traveled to his respectable moustache. Even after knowing Russell for a year, Xan still found it difficult to gauge human faces with their lack of feathers and non-existent muzzles.
“It was not always so,” was all Gerard would say on the matter. “Are you comfortable standing, Xan? Given what I know of my wife we may yet be here for a while.”
“I suppose sitting down would be nice,” he admitted.
“Do you have a cabin yet?” Gerard asked, having thoroughly interrogated Natori before venturing into the ‘Cauthan Zone’. The idea of aliens in semi-permanent residence had piqued his curiosity.
“No.”
“Then perhaps we shall make that our mission?”
“Sure but…why do you care?” Xan insisted. Gerard smiled at him.
“One of the most intelligent and powerful men in the HEL deemed your people worthy of an alliance. Surely you cannot blame me for wanting to know why?”
“I'll take your word for it. So…the translator was a little funky. You have homes on this ship?” Xan asked.
“We do," Gerard assured him, checking his personal tablet to ensure it was also translating adequately. He still didn't know the identity of the program's author. 'Io' was not much to go on. "Come Xan, we are not far from them. Ma chatounette, I am taking this young man to his lodgings.”
“Wait wait, Gerard! You can’t do that!” Alice yelped, not wanting to miss out on anything.
“Alice, I am less afraid of you than my wife’s wrath were I to interrupt girl time,” Gerard admitted openly. “Come find us when you are done. Xan?”
“Yeah sure, my leg’s stiffening up. See you, Alice. And sorry again about your arm.”
“It’s totally fine," she waved it off. "Yvonne, let’s go with them, please?”
“Of course,” the mature woman agreed. “Who knows what kind of trouble these boys might get up to alone, hmm? This one’s eyes are keen. Xan, you said? My name is Yvonne Dupuis. It is a pleasure.”
Alice nudged Yvonne and whispered something into her ear, after which the other woman nodded politely and bowed her head at Xan, foregoing any greeting by way of contact. Xan seemed to appreciate the gesture, and the two of them fell in behind Yvonne and Alice as the latter proclaimed that she would lead them all to the ‘perfect spot’ for Xan. The Cauthan glanced over at Gerard, who sported a thin, knowing smile on his face. “Assuming your females are anything like ours, always allow them to think it was their idea,” he whispered.
“I heard that, mon loup,” Yvonne called sweetly over her shoulder. Her voice was laced with the sort of playful threat only shared by those married for many years. Gerard’s brows rose and he looked apologetically at Xan who, for his part, didn’t know if he was reminded more of Gentia or Eris.
“And don’t get caught.”
For the first time since setting foot on Cromwell’s shuttle, Xan laughed.
-----
“I’m never getting off this thing,” Xan insisted, sitting comfortably on an unremarkable cot that extended from the back metal wall of the cabin. That small, clean, square space that was now, apparently, his own. He didn't know how to think about that. Few if any Cauthan lived alone by choice. Alice sat at the other end of the bed, still deep in conversation with Yvonne about every little thing she’d seen on Mara as well as Yvonne’s new hairdo which she described as ‘mid-20th century chic’. The female Dupuis had taken the one chair in the room, while Gerard stood and leaned against the small sink that took up one corner of the space along with a personal toilet.
“I’d say we’ve still got about half an hour,” Gerard assured him as Xan continued to press into the sheets and thin, foam mattress with his fingers, watching as it gave and then slowly reformed its natural shape. “May I ask what you are accustomed to sleeping on?”
“Furs, leathers, and straw,” Xan replied. “Not sure I even could fall asleep on this. Feels like floating.”
"Hmph, and here I was thinking they were a bit stiff," Gerard chuckled under his breath. "Fresh perspective is a blessing. But why did you come here, Xan?"
"Why did you?" The Cauthan turned the question around.
"To study, to further my knowledge of the world around us," Gerard replied with ease. Xan took a breath and nodded, looking around him.
"Guess it's the same for me. Alice insists that if she learns about us she can improve things in our village. I suppose I'm here to verify that claim and probably to serve as a specimen."
"Oh don't say it like that, Xan," Alice insisted excitedly; interjecting seamlessly despite appearing to be fully enthralled with Yvonne. "It'll be fun!"
"Alice, what are you planning?" Yvonne demanded.
"Well a whole bunch of things, until Natori insisted I figure out how to get them through the sterilization room in A-1," Alice pouted. "Speaking of which, how did you two get through there anyway?"
"We walked," Gerard supplied simply, eliciting another laugh from Xan as Alice scowled playfully at him. "Alice, unless there is a bacterium that can synthesize its own x-nucleotides from its environment we will be more than fine. Xan, you haven't noticed any incidences of flesh eating disease among your people recently, have you?"
Xan merely blinked at Gerard. "What in Seil's name are you on about?"
"See? Perfectly fine!" Gerard insisted. "I would be absolutely flabbergasted if anything down on that planet proved capable of cross infection."
"And then you'd write a paper on it assuming you lived," Alice laughed.
"The two of you may find this humorous but I do not," Yvonne declared, dropping the temperature of the room by several degrees. "I don't know what your plan was, Alice, but they cannot give consent any more than the little ones that I cared for on Earth. And unlike them, parental consent will be equally non-existent on Mara."
"Now hold on just a minute," Xan called, but Alice spoke over him.
"You're wrong, Yvonne. You haven't met Veera and I've spent a lot more time with Xan," Alice insisted, throwing the Cauthan a supporting look. "Let's say we're talking about a pencil. You're insisting I explain it's wood, lead, and whatever erasers are made of. Well then we need to discuss inorganic chemistry and manufacturing, then lead, then the periodic table, then not to eat one."
"Why would I eat wood?!" Xan demanded, rightfully offended at such a perceived slight to his intelligence.
"Exactly!" Alice exclaimed, standing upright for emphasis. "Yvonne, they're smart, whip smart from the sound of it; but how long did you spend learning your craft? Or you, Gerard? Yes, if they trust us maybe the next generation born will be given that sort of education. Right now that's just not possible. We don't have years. Xan, you trust me, right?"
"I trust your brother," he replied warily.
"Close enough," Alice said without concern. Xan was about to head her off when Alice finally arrived at her proposition. "Yvonne, if we explain the practical nature of what we're doing they will understand, even if they don't know what a cell is. If we can earn and keep that trust," Alice insisted with a kind, weighty glance at Xan. "I think all of us will benefit. As long as we continue to prove we're acting in their best interests I think they'll prove cooperative. Xan, a pencil is a writing implement. We use it to write on sheets of paper that we make from wood pulp."
"Well why didn't you say so earlier?! Don't know why you wouldn't just use leather, though."
"See?" Alice demanded of her elders. "One of Xan's friends is very pregnant, Yvonne. Are you going to teach her physics before her first ultrasound?"
Yvonne was left shell-shocked at the thought of practicing her medicine in such a situation, but Xan poked Alice angrily in the back of the thigh. "Hey, what was that for?!"
"That's a good way to get yourselves killed," Xan warned, his blue eyes glinting with distrust. "No one touches Asha, or any of our cubs."
"Except for my brother and Lachlan?" Alice fired back. "Xan, when have I ever given you any indication I'd harm any of you, much less your young?"
"Doesn't matter," he insisted. "I'm a useless cripple, expendable. Those cubs are our future."
"I want to help your future! And you're not a useless cripple!" Alice yelped. Gerard walked a couple paces over to where his wife sat and laid a hand on her shoulder. They met each other's gaze and he held a finger to his lips.
"You don't know anything about me and you certainly don't get to just have our trust because you asked for it!" Xan had raised his voice to match Alice's. "Your brother bled for us. He killed an ursae, for Kel's sake."
"And what if something happens to Asha when she gives birth and she or the cub are hurt? What if we could do something to prevent that?!"
"What are you trying to say?" Xan narrowed his eyes.
"Exactly what I just said; what I've been trying to say and nothing more! We can help you if you'll let us, let me!"
"And why should we?!"
"Because without me you'll keep living your nasty, brutish, and short lives for millennia!" Alice shouted. After a moment her eyes widened and her rigid posture went slack as she realized how far she'd gone in her passions. Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Cause I want to see you walk again and I don't want to wait thirty years…I'm sorry," she gasped.
Xan turned away from her and stared very intently at the bulkhead. Many times his lips and jaw moved as if he might speak, but he never found the appropriate words. "Let's just…I don't know, move on?"
Distraction blessedly arrived in the form of Veera and Fenrir, the agitated hyrven having led her through the halls of the ship in search of Xan and the others. They could hear her complaining about her 'ungrateful child' as she drew closer and soon the two of them were standing in the doorway. "Oh…hello? Is this a bad time?" Veera asked, reading Xan and Alice's faces easily enough. She allowed the hyrven to seek out his best friend, while turning to the two humans she did not know. "I don't think we've been introduced? My name is Veera," she said in fluent English.
"Mon dieu," Gerard whispered appreciatively as Yvonne stood to properly greet her.
"Yeah guys?" Alice said quietly, trying to stay focused despite the pain of Xan's mistrust. She forced a smile to her face. "This is my sister in law, Veera."
-----
"So, have you made a decision about the silicone pump?" Natori Kaczynski asked the empty room, knowing Io was there with him in manufactory #1's control room.
'I certainly wouldn't tell you about it, but no. I was getting ahead of myself,' Io admitted, choosing to make her presence known on one of the computer terminals that made up the main control panel. Natori sat himself comfortably in the swivel chair and looked 'at' her.
"I wasn't the one who suggested placing it on your posterior," he teased lightly.
'Yes well…' Io's cheeks developed a rosy hue. 'My silicone ass aside, could you please give me your opinion on the following samples?'
Natori watched as a small crate was removed from one of the matter printers and deposited on a table within the spacious bay. Natori nodded, throwing on an isolation suit and descending the stairs from the control room. He could feel his heart thrumming with anticipation as he opened the crate, finding four samples of skin-like compounds stretched over a base of other materials. "Io, what am I looking at?" He wondered.
'My initial skin samples, Admiral. Since visual fidelity is not required for my…guts, let's say, I felt quite confident in replicating the various subdural tissues of the human body. It's basically a faintly oiled sponge at this point but that sounds so much worse than bio-synthetic dermis.'
"Bio-synthetic?" Natori asked, removing the glove from his right hand.
'A perfect oxymoron, no? To me, at least, the term implies using whatever is at my disposal to create objects as close to their biological counterparts as possible,' she explained, her words reminding him of his other duties.
"Speaking of biological counterparts, how is our Lieutenant doing?" He wondered.
'He is my Lieutenant, Admiral,' Io insisted with a combination of sincerity and playfulness. 'For now he and the ship's physician are going through the motions. Both appear bored. He's still in quite good health. I consider that a win.'
"I feel the need to remind you that despite your assignment to Omega division I'm still your acting commanding officer in this system," Natori responded non-confrontationally. "But I am only pleased to hear that his body is in good health after a year among the Cauthan. That bodes well for Alice and ongoing relations."
'His mind is well too, Admiral,' Io pressed, feeling the need to defend Winters in his absence. Natori cocked a brow as she continued. 'You may not agree with his response to high stress situations, but he is not a broken man!'
"We will have to agree to disagree on the first point, but I never meant to insinuate the latter," Kaczynski declared, running his fingers gently over the samples and feeling the texture and give of each. "Is that perhaps your own fears coming through?"
'I'm afraid you'll place him under surveillance…just like you did his sister,' Io said coolly, watching as the Admiral took his time, pressing and rubbing the synthetic skin. He paused to rub his thumb and forefinger together, gauging Io's substitute for natural oils. 'Why are you smiling?'
"Because I had hoped Cassia might see cause to debate the ethics of that decision with me…she did not. You seem to have no such compunctions!"
'What is there to debate?' Io demanded, wishing he was near a screen so she could tap her feet and cross her arms at him. 'You tracked her even in her room! There are recordings of her pleasuring herself in here!'
Natori felt his diaphragm tighten as he stood upright, back stiff. "I did what I felt was necessary to protect myself and my crew in the event Miss Winters suffered a mental episode, Io. I did not know of the contents of any of those records until you decided to override my access protocols and review them yourself."
For a long while he heard only the sound of the fabricators behind him, sensing that same regretful necessity as when he'd scolded his own daughter.
'Could you turn around, bitte?' Io eventually requested. Natori did so, only then realizing that she could probably kill him with most of the mechanical arms and devices within the facility. Instead of his worst fears, he was met with a rather dismal looking robotic arm. It seemed to bow in shame. 'I will be deleting my records of this event for the sake of Alice's privacy. I'm sorry, Admiral-'
"Wait!" He ordered, confusing the AI momentarily. "I forbid it."
'I request an explanation.'
"I am sure that Lieutenant Winters has his own reasons for how he's chosen to educate you regarding human behavior. And I'm sure the process worked in both directions after a time. But for me, given your abilities and access to this ship which likely involves some dead man switches in case I try to eliminate either of you-"
'I would never!' Io protested.
"I think you might…it's what I'd do," Natori revealed. "You found it acceptable to threaten my life and the lives of my crew in order to prevent possible harm to those near to you. Therefore I have a most vested interest in continuing your development as a moral being. I do not know how you can expect to learn if you do not remember your mistakes. Should you feel the need to clear your conscience, and I'll willingly admit that idea alone has me giddy, I will be happy to explain to Alice why I felt the need to establish surveillance in the first place."
'I see…thank you, Admiral. I believe I understand your perspective.'
"And I will try my best to understand yours," Natori insisted. "How about in the future you at least request to override security protocols, hmm?"
'So long as there is not an immediate harm condition, I agree.' Io extended the arm and Natori shook it, laughing delightedly within the containment suit. 'Now, your thoughts on my skin samples.'
"Yes, of course! I can tell you right now that one is too dry and four is too wet, so perhaps too permeable. Between two and three, what part of the body is this meant to simulate?"
'I'm not sure,' Io admitted as he returned to the samples. 'The relative squishiness of the human dermis depends almost entirely on what's beneath it and I've only managed the equivalent of a few dozen cellular layers. So let's say perhaps the fingers? Assuming you're not obese, of course,' Io chuckled.
"From ethics to fat people jokes, what a wonderful existence you are," Natori smirked, pressing against the skin of his own fingers before testing again. He hummed and considered, cocking his head in thought. "Are there any differentiating characteristics between these two? Shear forces, plasticity, that sort of thing?"
'Sample two is more durable but less flexible. I haven't even started considering damage repair mechanisms so let's just go with the best?'
"Personally I would save all of them. Even one and four could be useful if you adjust the secretion rate of the body. I must say I don't envy your task, Io. But I will happily oversee it as you progress."
'How reassuring to have military brass breathing down my neck as I misuse HEL technology,' Io drawled, making it clear she still understood the need for oversight. 'Your point is well taken, Admiral. Perhaps it would be best to attempt construction of a full limb first?'
Kaczynski closed the sample box, returned it to 'Io', and headed back to the control room. His boots landed softly on metal and artificial flooring as the door hissed shut behind him and the manufactory’s equipment began its work again under Io’s direction. When he'd divested himself of the suit he continued. "You're familiar with the saying the beauty is skin deep, correct?"
‘I am,’ Io said shortly.
“That’s not a dig at your personality. Not sure how you decided on the Germanic accent but I’m a fan, I must say. I was referring to the fact that so long as your...let’s call them accessible areas. So long as they seem human, you need not concern yourself with the rest,” the Admiral suggested, resting his left ankle on his right knee and getting comfortable in his seat.
‘And if I prefer to have a heart?’ Io countered, holding out her version of that most vital organ for him to inspect. ‘No offense, Admiral, but Robocop is almost a century old.’
“And do you intend to craft yourself a working appendix as well?” Natori asked with an impish smile.
‘Your appendix doesn’t even work...at least I assume you still have one. I didn’t feel it necessary to check your records. I’m improving. You may praise me now.’
“My vestigial internal organs rejoice, Io,” Kaczynski laughed. “You already know I consider you the crowning achievement of humanity’s existence, though the credit for that may belong only to a handful of individuals.”
Io conjured a paper fan for herself and hid most of her face from him. It was green to match her eyes and featured dark wood and an ornate pattern of sakura blossoms. ‘I…please don’t say such things, Admiral. A girl might get the wrong impression,’ she whispered.
"Hmm," Natori hummed kindly. "We have talked about you quite a lot, how about you take a break and go through my file, the unclassified portions I mean. That was permission, by the way."
'Very well, I'll do that," Io replied, seating herself and opening a manila envelope. She began leafing through papers, occasionally humming or clicking her tongue. Natori couldn't help himself.
"How long ago did you finish?"
'It was a more or less instantaneous task, Admiral,' Io replied proudly.
"And yet?" He prompted.
'I don't know, Admiral. It is rewarding to act in an approachable manner. Assigning value to time, computation, and actions is enhanced when incorporating the reactions of an interlocutor.'
"So you were watching me watching you?"
Io frowned. 'Well when you put it that way, perhaps it was better just to continue our conversation instantly.'
"And if I found the experience to be delightful and, dare I say, human?" Natori countered quietly, taking a sip from the water bottle he'd brought along with him to the manufacturing bays.
'Speaking with the Lieutenant is much easier. He lets me flirt and doesn't reciprocate,' Io pouted.
"I would be happy to adjust my language to speak of our interactions in purely analytical terms," Natori offered blandly.
'Your wife might appreciate that.'
To her surprise, Natori smiled as he replied. "Io, I think it should be apparent enough that I have no interest in a romantic relationship with you, even if you do construct a body that is capable of sexual intercourse. My only regret is that this warp anomaly will keep me from my wife and daughter longer than I'd anticipated. My interest is in how you have presented as a very distinct type of artificial life."
'I am the only type of artificial life we know of,' the AI declared defensively, puffing her chest out as she remained seated. Natori glanced at her well-manicured fingers and properly crossed legs.
"Within the physical realm, to be sure. That does not mean mankind hasn't postulated about the nature of synthetic life ad nauseum. They run the gamut from malevolent machine overlords to digital gods; and rarely one encounters tales of someone like you," Natori explained, watching Io's face soften as his choice of words bestowed person-ship to her existence. "For reasons that I have yet to discover but yearn to understand, your programming has evolved to place an extraordinary emphasis on not just interacting as a human, but in mimicking as much of our biological existence as possible. You've programmed your own organs; you pause and behave at 'human speed' despite how quickly you must think. Your first act after commandeering my ship was not to assume overlord status but to begin construction of a body. This all leads me to conclude, and you must pardon the classic reference, that you wish to know what love is…among other things."
'I can't claim to have developed an appreciation for 1980's rock and roll, though perhaps that will come with time?' Io chuckled before looking to her left with a forlorn expression. 'That is not my only aim, but it is certainly a pinnacle to climb.'
A snap of Io's fingers got Natori's attention. He sat forward in his chair to review what she wanted to show him. "whose nervous system am I looking at here?"
'The Lieutenant's. The biometric monitoring systems of the Aegis are quite impressive,' Io threw Beta a compliment, earning a silent nod from Kaczynski. 'And while I appreciate your efforts to give me a safe target, as it were, for romantic or flirtatious communications, I fear that this is but the tip of the iceberg.'
"That's quite the reaction," the human acknowledged as Io ran the recording forward. "Was this a combat situation?"
'No,' Io smiled and hung her head fondly. 'This is what a man looks like when his future wife says I love you for the first time.' A silence hung over the two of them as they watched the explosion of neural impulses. After a handful of repetitions Io waved her hand and the display vanished into smoke, a reflection of her mood. ‘I am afraid that no matter how precise or suitably organic a body I create, no matter how well I am capable of mimicking the chemical and neural impulses experienced by living beings…that is all I will ever be doing, mimicking.’
“Just look at you though,” Natori protested kindly. “At what point does mimicry become indistinguishable from the real thing?”
‘When I no longer know that I’m pretending!’ Io snapped before suddenly recoiling. ‘I am sorry that was…rude of me.’
“It’s no problem,” Kaczynski muttered, his surprise more than evident. “So…you do not actually love him?” Io looked ready to break something as her hair began to develop a frazzled quality and her hands balled into fists. His exhortation to spare the Event Horizon proved unnecessary as she leapt to her feet, conjured a punching bag and delivered several striking blows to it. She finished with a roundhouse kick that sent it flying off-screen before meeting Natori’s eye’s again.
‘I’m as strong as I want to be in cyberspace,’ she huffed.
“I apologize; clearly I struck a nerve?” The Admiral advanced cautiously.
‘How do I put this?’ Io demanded rhetorically, as though the empty space outside the ship might hold her answer. 'My programming understands that the various parameters of our relationship indicate a high degree of likelihood that a woman in my position would come to feel affection towards the Lieutenant. My code tells me that I should love him, and I behave as if I do…' Io looked imploringly at Kaczynski, dropping her voice to a desperate whisper. 'I do love him, I do! And sometimes I can ignore it long enough to truly believe that. But in the back of my mind I know that I love him because a model says that I should. I'm sure you don't need something like that when you see your wife or daughter, Admiral.'
"No…I do not," he replied quietly, rising from his chair to survey the expansive manufactory. He placed a hand delicately over the screen Io was using, making sure not to cover any inappropriate locations. "But your goal, if I understand it, is a magnificent one, the sort of thing that could easily become a lifelong passion. Humanity often jokes about teaching robots to love…but no one really learns to love, do they?"
'Not if my observations are any indication,' Io concurred. 'Cauthan and humans both seem to have an innate capacity for it. I worry about the waste of time and resources if I fail to replicate that ability.'
"Nonsense!" Natori insisted with effusive positivity. "You are aiming for the stars, Io. Even if you land on the moon it will be truly glorious."
'I'll keep that in mind when the disappointment and frustration grows,' she said.
"Why not just tell yourself that you're only frustrated because you told yourself to be?"
'Because that's the exact opposite of what I want!' Io screeched indignantly as Natori laughed before glancing down at his wrist.
"I understand, I do. And I apologize for that bit of humor at your expense. Give me a moment please. Turnwell, what is it?"
"Admiral Kaczynski, sir, envoy Qul'Roth has requested an update regarding the surface mission," the first mate reported.
"I'll be on the bridge in a few minutes, thank you."
"Aye aye, sir."
Natori looked back to Io as reality intruded on their private moment. "No matter how long or difficult this path I will walk it with you, if you'll have me. And should you mistrust my benevolence you may tell yourself that this is how I've decided to best keep your interests aligned with the Event Horizon. Do not despair, Io."
'I'll do my best, Admiral. I suppose we should go run our ship, shouldn't we?' The AI suggested with a hesitant smile that grew wider as Natori returned it.
"Yes, I suppose we should," he agreed as Io donned a seafaring admiral's cap. "Speaking of which, status report on our returning crew and new additions?"
'Yes sir,' Io snapped to attention as a handful of floating screens rotated in her palm. 'PFC MacGregor and Pilot Cromwell are sharing a meal in the military mess. His report was submitted in writing and is awaiting your review. Alice and Xan were in one of the labs along with two crew members who broke the quarantine zone. Hmmm…Monsieur and Madame Dupuis? I shall have to introduce myself someday.'
"The three of you will get along far too well," Natori chuckled as he ensured the fabrication bay was safe to be left on autopilot. That done, he headed for the nearest tube station with Io tagging along via the rest of the Event Horizon's many speakers, cameras, and monitors. "Well, I can't say I didn't expect that. What is the Cauthan doing now?"
'Well, Russell has returned to Veera. The two of them seem to be settling in along with Fenrir. With all the claws in that cabin we may need new sheets…or comforters made of sterner stuff.'
"Let's not disturb them unless necessary. I would prefer for the Lieutenant to come willingly when we eventually depart," Kaczynski responded as he hopped into a transit pod and input the bridge as his destination. Even in motion Io's connection was seamless.
'So long as Veera is allowed to accompany him I doubt there will be any issues there, Admiral. That said, your cart is many miles ahead of the horse.'
"Hmm, quite so," he agreed, his voice slightly changed by the acceleration. "And Alice?"
'She and Xan appear to be back in the hangar.'
"Oh? And what are they doing there?"
'They are floating, Admiral,' Io reported happily. 'And by floating I really mean jumping and falling back to the floor very slowly. That looks like fun.'
"Just floating?" He demanded curiously.
'Yes, just floating,' Io confirmed as he stepped out of the transit pod and dusted off his uniform. The bridge was but a few moments’ walk away. 'I am not listening to their conversation…though it is being recorded.'
"How curious. Shall we allow them their peace?"
'You're asking me to terminate ship wide surveillance of crew member Alice Winters?' Io asked slyly. Natori could practically hear her raising those perfectly shaped brows on her forehead.
"You are truly everything a man could ask for in a shipboard digital assistant," Natori gushed.
'Flatterer,' Io chuckled. 'Just give me your answer, Admiral.'
"As you wish, Io. Given the change in circumstance I'm officially authorizing the termination of surveillance."
'Yes sir, Admiral Kaczynski. Consider it done,' Io replied in his ear as the doors to the bridge parted for him and he saluted the on duty watch standers. With a broad smile on his face he settled in for the late evening shift, the shipboard time almost adjusted to Mara's own.
"Io?"
'Yes sir?' She replied professionally, appearing above the armrest of his command chair.
"Glad to see you're feeling better," he said quietly. "Now could you send for Qul'Roth, please?"
'Oh I'm sure he'll be delighted to receive an invitation from an AI,' she simpered.
"I'm counting on it," Natori added confidently. "After all, we need to entertain ourselves somehow if Alice and her mentors are going to have all the fun."
Io's reply was to simply laugh under her breath as she turned away and waltzed 'out' of his projection. More than one watch stander was looking over at them. The Admiral gave them a wink. "If you think she's pretty walking towards you, you should see her as she walks away."
Io's merriment echoed lightly within the room as more than a handful of crew fixed their eyes awkwardly to their workstations. 'You're just lucky I'm feeling friendly.'
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[Let's build D100] Ships you might come across in a busy port.

The party has come into a busy port and decide to visit some other ships. Who might they discover, what might they find?

d100 Interesting Ships in a Port

Shani and Aurora's Tent of Two - The two goblin sisters Shani and Aurora sail providing services to port settlements. Shani claims to be a seer and charges 60gp for a "reading" of the future (she is not). Aurora 'The useful one' provides the service of casting identify for 20gp. She may also agree to sell some of her extensive library if offered the right price. [dweeb_bush]
The Bones Brothers - The bones brothers are a travelling group of jolly bards. As their name suggests they are animated skeletons. Jimbo-double bass, Timbo-guitar, Limbo-vocals, Dimbo-marimba and Franky-drums. They are very hospitable and put on a show for anyone who comes and visits them! [dweeb_bush]
The Lovers - A small nondescript boat lies just off the dock. The is no sign of activity on board apart from the dock inspector who is trying to find out who's boat it is. The truth is the owners of the boat died ten days ago and the boat has miraculously drifted safely into port. on a successful DC 10 investigation or perception check the party members discover two young male elves cowering in the cannonball chest. When the lid is lifted they start begging for their life. If pressed they reveal that the crew was attacked by sirens, the majority of the crew succomed to the siren's calls however the two young boys, deeply infatuated with each other did not care for their temptation. They ran out of food last night and thought they were surely doomed! [dweeb_bush]
The Crows - A large black boat rests in port, neatly secured off one of the more expensive jettys. The most defining feature of the boat is that it is bustling with activity, not by humanoids but 3d12 black ravens. One wears a small captains hat and appears to undersatnd the party. If the party casts speak with animals they discover that the crows were awakened through a series of trials on a new spell aimed to mass awaken a group of creatures. The crows have varying degrees of intelligence and are all chaotic neutral alligned. The crows rebelled from, Hignory Flip, the wizard running the trials on a small island about 2 days sail from the port, and stole his ship. [dweeb_bush]
Captain Redbeak! - A suspicious longship hovers low on the water. There is a steady stream of humanoids entering the covered boat and leaving a few minutes later with a small package. The ship belongs to Captain Redbeak, a feirce pirate captain who runs a drug trade: the drug in question is a relatively cheap drug called "Peak Water" and is collected dew from mountaintops, it gives the user a high that lasts 1d4 hours and gives the user a d4 of bardic inspiration. It costs 10gp per hit. The ship is manned by 2d6 Bandits, and if threatened or reported they will attempt to kill the party in defence of their lives. [dweeb_bush]
Crazy Mr McGee - A delerious man stands warding off the dock guards with what looks like a loaded blunderbus. He's yelling about his notorious reputation as a savage pirate and keeps claiming they have come to "Take away my princess". The princess he's referring to is his boat- he imagines that it is a glourious gallion but in reality it's just a rowboat. If the party manage to subdue the man the dock guards thank them and offer to buy them a drink later that night in the tavern. [dweeb_bush]
A Con??? - The players are drawn to a commotion hidden behind a crowd of people. A large goliath (Manneo) seems to have taken a small dwarf (Skalgrouth) hostage and is threatening to slit his throat if the dock guard do not meet his demands "I'll bloody well kill 'im if you don't give me what I want: 100gp worth of rubies and free passage out of this shit hole!". In reality the goliath and dwarf are working together pulling off this stunt at various ports in the area, so far, to great success! [dweeb_bush]
The Rat's Den - The players follow a stream of rats on board a decrepid looking riverfairing vessel. When they make cross into the canvassed interior they see an old kobold playing the pipes, he seems to be a rat-catcher. If the party interrupt him in his ritual he turns the a swarm of rats against the party and runs off into the port. [dweeb_bush]
Seeking Refuge - A smallish sloop titled 'The Diamond Endeavour' pulls into port, it's sinking and fast! A crew member (Emery Green) jumps onto the dockside and is yelling for help. The vessel was struck by a great storm while at sea and they sustained damage when they brushed by a reef. Luckily they werent wrecked but unluckily they could not repair all the damage with materials on board. They've been bailing for hours and can no longer bail as fast as the ship is filling up with water! If the characters wish to help they can make a DC 13 group athletics check to bail enough water to stop the crew from having to jump ship and leave it to sink. If the players are successful Emery thanks them profusely and offers them a map to a shipwreck they were on the way to dive at before the storm hit them. "It's rumoured that this is the wreck of the old pirate lord, Feather Toothed Bill's ship and may hold riches beyond imagine!" [dweeb_bush]
The Gilded Sail - A group of merchants, all of various races, each offering unique, and expensive, magical trinkets. True to their name, their sail is actually a thin sheet of gold, and the rest of their ship is covered in valuable metals and gems. It’s also very well armed, as are the merchants aboard. Keep an eye on the rogue when this one’s around. [Dragon_Overlord]
The Patchwork - A large ship which seems to have been destroyed and repaired numerous times with whatever material the crew had, from birch wood to copper metal to even welded armor and weapons. Speaking of the crew, they appear to be a mishmash of Kenku, Kobold, Halfling, and the occasional Tabaxi and Goblin. The captain appears to be a raccoon by the name of Majos, which, if your party stumbles upon the question of why and how a raccoon is a ship captain, she would respond with “a salty mage who didn’t know how to win a simple game of cards had a tantrum.” She would then offer the party a game of cards in which if the party beats Majos, she rewards the party a hefty sum of 100 GP, and if any party member is any of the races listed above, she rewards an additional magic item (DM’s choice) and offers a position to the party member for them to join her crew. Accept and the party is taken to an additional encounter to an island for treasure. Decline is acceptable and Majos would accept any favor from the party. [SpyroAndToothless]
The Feyr Winds - An elegant ship that carries goods and treasures from far off Elven lands run by a mixture of elven and faerie creatures. Their most illustrious goods are fruits that can do many things such as heal wounds, cure poisons, or even granting stat bonuses for a minute! (Vendor: Fruits are magical and can take on the effect of any potion you want.) [OSpiderBox]
Gnasher's Maw - A tribal-ized longship driven by a "merry" band of lizard folk. They obviously don't understand personal space or social norms, and are seeking people to help them with a Giant problem. (Hook: if your party is having downtime while they look for their next quest, this could be that hook they need.) [OSpiderBox]
The Esteemed Steamboat - Artificers run this marvel of steam engineering. However... it's currently in a state of disrepair. Looks like heavy damage from some monstrosity. While they're extremely proficient in fixing it, they have no money and are looking for work to pay for supplies. (Allies: party could hire some of them for an upcoming task/adventure, or even offer to fund the repairs in exchange for favopassage.) [OSpiderBox]
The Mainstream (You’ll never need a bigger boat!) - A casino cruise ship featuring a large game room, several bars, comfortable rooms, a pool and a hot tub fueled by a continual flame spell. It is captained by a tall, brown scaled lizardfolk woman named Kepesk. The dealers are kenku bards repeating rules and barking (“Step right up, try you’re luck at the Wheel of the Goddess of Fortune!”) There is also a large vault of gold on board, guarded by lizardfolk soldiers. One particular patron is looking for a few helping hands for a bit of a caper now that he knows the guards patrol schedules. [spiff2]
Rocinante - A relatively fancy and expensive ship being up kept by the Quijano family and their servants. The last living member of the family is a young man, obsessed with swords and thirst for adventure. He agrees to let the team borrow the ship, in exchange for him coming with them on their adventures to wherever they’re going. [DrFishPhd]
Deep Blue - In a corner of the harbour, a seemingly empty ship. Sails are neatly furled, crew seems to have left the ship mere hours ago. On the deck, small openings allows the visitor to enter the hold, in it, some barrels, hammocks. Beside one of the hammock, a book, quite old, written in an old version of Common language.In the middle of the hold, some blankets cover a group of trunks, under these trunks, another opening ... leading to another hold. In this hold, vessels, old fashioned lanterns, and some parchment written in ancient language. At the bottom of a bulkhead, an opening, some stairs gong down in another hold.Wood seems ancient, and strange figures are carved into the wooden parts of the boats. Some ancient runes are covering pillars. In the middle of the hold, a panel with nails made of some unknown metal, once open, stairs going down in the dark. From the shadows, the noise of little splaches. [doctor_providence]
The Mosquito - Run by a crew of githyanki pirates. What seems like a normal battle vessel, once on the open ocean, the sails begin turning outward and suddenly the ship begins gliding above the waters surface at fast speeds. [GladiatorJustin]
The C.H.U.D.- The Shell of a massive deceased Dragonturtle floats next to the dock, it’s ends sealed by mechanical claws, and a viewport fitted into the front. The C.H.U.D. (Chelonian Hammerworked Underwater Dirigible) was designed by the Gnomish Inventor Hector Copperspark. Crewed by gnomes and halflings as they are the only ones small enough to man the complex machinery crammed into the turtle shell, the C.H.U.D. is a mercenary vessel that hires out to perform naval attacks. Hector just got a lead on a new job, and he needs some muscle to pull it off... [Lakandalwa]
The Temple - A ship that serves as a mobile temple to a water deity. It goes from port to port to carry services. [SMGB_NeonYoshi]
Cloudscraper - One of the gems of the Romish Empire's formidable fleet, the Cloudscraper is a powerful warship specially constructed for defeating sea monstrosities of all kinds. Developed after the Queen's late husband was killed by an island feeder (colossal sea beasts known for swallowing swaths of land whole), this vessel with an imposing tower-like bridge is loaded up with all types of harpoons, cannons, and magical armor. Some even say that, thanks to a powerful magical engine, the top half of the ship can separate from the brig to chase after flying beasts attempting to get away. With how famous it is, plenty of townsfolk are eager to get a look at the shining bronze beast of a boat. But what's it doing here of all places? [MildlyConcernedGhost]
The Wistful Wanderer - A small sloop with a single cabin in the middle of the deck. A skilled observer might note that the sails and rigging as well as the rudder occasional shift to right the ship or tighten and secure themselves more. The cabin is actually permanently enchanted with a Mordenkainen’s Magnificent mansion and the ship is handled by a permanent crew of 20 unseen servants. It is owned by the Wandering Wizard Wesley Wrycroft. He sails the world at his leisure, seeking trade for scrolls and arcane artifacts. He also regularly hires adventurers to gather difficult to reach artifacts from unworthy hands whenever he finds a lead on the location of such a relic. [Lakandalawa]
The Magic Brawler - A merchant ship with a very strong looking captain comes to port. If the party chooses to look at their items the captain will challenge the party to an arm wrestling match. Beating a DC 20 strength check will award the party one minor magic item from the captain's personal stash, and beating a DC 25 strength check will award a magic item of the DMs choosing. [TheInstitute4]
The Friend Ship - A comfortable looking wooden ship full of people just hanging out on the deck. While aboard this ship you find yourself under the effects of the Charm Person spell to make everyone friendly with each other. [Stormkiko]
The Dragon Ship - Captained by a Dragonborn with a dragon head on the prow, this ship is a merchant vessel crewed by a muscular Dragonborn who sits on the deck smoking a long pipe. The ship has put down for repairs after grazing a rock which tore a few holes in the starboard side. [AndreTheSalty]
Kender - A rag tag ship filled with swashbuckling Kender. The ship looks like it was made from bits and pieces of many different ships.The Kender are very drunk and have no idea how they got to this port. [Slainlion]
The Poor Captain - A ship that looks broken and near sinking, in truth it's one of the most armed ship on the seas. It uses help calls or just their non threatening look to lure ships close so that they can attack them. [DungeonsAndScouts]
The Fisticuffs- A medium sized rowdy ship sits a little way out from the dock. The ship has two massive hands stemming from the hulls on long mechanical arms. The hands have an AC of 25, a damage threshold of 5, and 30 health each. They ship can leave the water and "walk" on the hands. The ship is primarily a combat ship and is crewed by a band of mischevious gnome tinkerers. In addition to attacking (+10 to hit: 4d6 + 8 bludgeoning damage) the hands can also cast Bigby's hand once per day. [dweeb_bush]
The Grain Barge - A large barge with a dirt floor and wheat growing. A single old man lives on the barge, and sells wheat for 2 pountds per copper piece. In the hull of the barge, accessible only by a trapdoor in the old man's shack, is a large pile of carrots. [serious_tabaxi]
Sea Rot - A large gallion speeds into port with a yellow flag raised. As soon as they dock and have paid the docking fee the captain, a large half-orc woman called Mishka, starts calling for help! She reveals that over half of her crew has contracted a strange plague and she fears for her life. She came to port to seek medical assisstance but fears she is infected so dares not go ashore.The plague - Sea Rot - Is highly contagious and air-borne: if a creature comes within 5ft. of an infected creature they must succeed on a DC 17 Constitution save or become infected themself, symptoms take 1d10 days to manifest. The symptoms of Sea Rot are gruesome, starting with the extremities of the body, the body starts depositing water in cytoplasm-like sacks. At the end of every long rest the creature takes 2d6 cold damage and must succeed on a DC 13 Constitution save or suffer 1 permanent constitution damage, the infected creature also has disadvantage on strength and dexterity checks. It can only be cured by magical means that remove a disease.If the party fetches help she rewards them with a small favour and a pouch full of gemstones worth 50gp, in addition, if the party can cure the 20 crew members and contain the plague she offers them passage anywhere, offers an additional 100gp, and her cutlass- a +1 scimmitar that also increases the holder's charisma by 2 while holding it. [dweeb_bush]
Grok's Galley - A medium-sized ship piloted by a Tortle named Grok(He Understands Things)11. The ship is a 2 sailed vessel with few cannons and other wartime mechanisms on them. The crew is very resilient and full of ragtag non-humaniods. Gnolls, Dragonborn, Ratfolk etc.He's about to set sail back home as he's heard of this group of ratfolk that are trying to overthrow the government in his home town. [VKilledTInternet]
The Abigail - An old warship thought to be lost that had been renovated and turned into an inn. It’s run by two very attractive siblings, who turn out to be sirens and one night, they take the boat out to the sea and eat all the passengers. [TardyTortoise]
The Comfort - This massive galleon is an independent freebooter that refuses to pay allegiance to any nation or city. Housing a collection of skilled healers and clerics, the Comfort sails to areas struck by famine, plague, and war, providing healing to whomever requests it. The sailors aboard the vessel have all sworn the same oath, to defend the healers and their patients with their lives no matter the cost.While the Comfort usually is accepted at any port, it sometimes comes under attack when it travels to war torn regions and as such is well equipped to defend itself should it come under attack. [Lakandalawa]
Arabian Traders - An exotic merchant vessel filled with silks, spices, and strange spirits is disembarking. A dashing arabian prince asks basic questions about the city, potentially becoming enamored with one of the party members. He is rich and slightly crazy, and believes anything can be bought for a price. This gets him into trouble when he tries to buy someone's hand in marriage to add to his collection of luxuries and many wives back in his home port. [jfractal]
Deep Sea Scavengar - Salty, untrustworthy sailors (who look like pirates) are disembarking/unloading from their latest voyage. They have been at sea for months, and haven't seen a woman in that long - they openly hit on and jeer at any females in the group with a CHA score of 11 or higher. One sailor tells a fanciful story about sirens that they encountered on their voyage, killing 3 of their men (it's hard to tell if they are serious or not). [jfractal]
His majesty's secret - A heavily outfitted, small warship is in a secret mission from the king. Heavily armed/armored guards stand watch over the docks, turning away everyone, and refusing to divulge their purpose here. [jfractal]
Smallminded Yokels - A small, local fishing vessel filled with xenophobic, small-minded fisherman. The make disparaging remarks about any non-humans if approached. If the party gives them lip, they will get jumped by the crew the next time they wander the harbor at night. [jfractal]
Mussel's Mate - A large fishing vessel that has seen it's better days. Rigging is in tatters, masts are spliced together, mismatched patchworks sails. Oddly enough the captains quarters are extremely well apportioned not at all like the rest of the ship. [hamlet_d]
The Wayward Lady - This ship has an all female crew. The species on board are the outcasts from different lands. They serve as a place for any who are lost to have a home, though men don't tend to stay for long for some reason. After a successful DC 20 insight check it can be found that men on board the ship for 4 months become women. [42firehawk]
The Gypsy - On the deck is what appears to be a stage where beautiful female dancers perform to music provided by a small band of bards. One of the dancers, who is known as the Storyteller, tells stories through song as the rest of the dancers provide her the visuals/backup dancing. Her voice is noticeably quite low for a woman, but is very enchanting nonetheless. An insight check with a DC20 will reveal that all of the performers are cross-dressing men. [Crystalized13]
The Stable - A ship of decent size that carries horses (or any other kind of mount in your game) from port to port and sells them at a decent price to tired and/or injured travelers. It is crewed by a family of six (mother is the captain, father, three sons, three daughters) and a few extras the gathered along their journey, namely; a nice old man who wants to see the world, a young woman with a fiery attitude and an obvious crush on one of the party members, a muscular Dragonborn who has obviously seen some action who now tends to the horses, a bard who offers entertainment to the crew on board and is particularly liked by the children, a mute Druid who helps the horses and is good friends with the Dragonborn (who interprets their sign), and an ex-pirate who loves the sea but wishes to leave their past behind them. [Crystalized13]
The Penny Bucket - The penny bucket is barely a ship. It's looks like a wash-bucket with a wooden T nailed to it and has a large white shirt as a sale. As far as you can tell there's no way to steer, its an utter mystery to you how it ended up in port, let alone why the dock authority would charge it to dock. When you peer inside the bucket you see a small red pseudodragon peacefully sleeping on it's hoard, which consists of 3pp, 16gp, 103sp, and 56cp, 6 rubies worth 30gp, and a dusty diamond worth 300gp , and a small magical trinket of the DM's choice. If woken up the Pseudodragon wakes up and fiercely snarls , cowering, and protecting its stuff. The dragon will trade any of the items in its hoard if the adventurers offer something of value, or a large amount of food. If the party wants to adopt the dragon along with it's hoard it may be won over with gifts and a DC18 animal handling check. [dweeb_bush]
The Crafty Raft - A makeshift raft has floated down the coast and slammed into the dock. There is no one on board and it appears to be unmanned. There is a note fixed to the mast with a tiny butterknife. The note has directions, "at the lightning stump follow the stream and rescue us". The raft, and attached note were made by crafty goblins attempting to lure creatures down the coast right into a trap. The goblins have made finding their hideout incredibly easy. With a DC 5 nature (tracking) check the party can find the tree and follow it down to the river. The real trap is a series of pitfall traps cleverly hidden in and around the stream. If the adventurers continue along the stream they must succeed on a DC18 Perception check to avoid it and must succeed on a DC14 Dexterity save or fall 10ft. into spikes and take 1d6 bludgeoning damage and 2d6 piercing damage. They are then accosted by 2d4 goblins. [dweeb_bush]
The Illusory Boat - Moored in the port is a huge gleaming golden pirate ship, there must be at least 50 richly dressed halflings manning it. There's a long gangplank extending to the dock. Suddenly there's the noise of several cannons firing off. The guards rush over to the ship, fearing that they are attacking the port. They scream at the ship- "come down here and speak to us you cowards, we can't board your ship without permission but we will call the town guard!" A voice calls from the ship yelling insults at the guards aiming to infuriate them till they board the boat. If any one steps on the gangplank they must succeed on a DC 14 Dexterity save or fall into the water, as they do the ship dissapears and it's revealed that the entire ship is a major illusion cast by three giggling wizards who run away from one of the neighboring piers. [dweeb_bush]
The Question - There's a metallic ship floating in the water. From it you hear loud beeping, chirping, and whirring noises coming from it and it's attracted a large crowd of 3d10 townsfolk, who are fearfully inspecting the ship. As you approach closer you begin to hear a voice in all the artificial noises. You hear it asking thousands of questions, in thousands of voices: "who am I?", "why am I here?", "What's that ugly thing over there?", "what is the meaning to life", "Why are there people watching me?", and other creepy remarks that give the idea that the ship is conscious and scared. When the adventurers look into the boat they see a blinking green, light with a swirling marbled texture on it. The light turns red and starts asking questions very specific to the party. Before long it begins speaking in tongues and a flash of blinding light appears. The adventurers make a DC13 constitution save. On a failed save they are blinded for a minute and take 4d4 psychic damage or half as much on a successful save. When the adventurers look again the ship is gone and there is just a small gemstone floating in the water, whispering to the party in tongues that are unintelligible. [dweeb_bush]
The mistake -A small boat that seems to have been renamed fairly recently. The - ake part of the name is in a different calligraphy and color from the rest of the name [Ido97]
The Barnacle - An old weathered gun-ship bearing it's scars from many a battle, but nevertheless being no worse for the wear. Built strong from some ancient hardwoods and it has been well maintained to the best a ship of that age could be. The crew is a rowdy bunch of salty Dawgs that work as hard as they play...and they fight even harder. They may squabble amongst themselves, but don't you dare mess with or insult one of their brotherhood. They have come to port ready to sell their wares, collect their bounty and spend it irresponsibly. All so they can find their next mission and do it all over again. [gothic03]
The Bauntoo - A strange ramshackle ship occupied by amphibious humanoids that spend near their entire lives out at sea, trade in weird cool stuff they've found deep diving into cool underwater locations like ocean ruins, and wont be at port for long. [Swerve-Bro]
The Leviathan - A huge ship listing hard to one side, its mast broken halfway up and the sails drooping to the deck. All of the wood is dark brown, slimy and rotting out. It looks like someone pulled a shipwreck from the bottom of the sea and it remained afloat by some miracle. If the party inspects the ship, they will find it has already been thoroughly looted and all that remains of the crew are skeletons. (Whether the skeletons are animated or not is up to you). The dock guards will tell you that a huge fog rolled in last night and this ship was there when the fog lifted. [painterinsomniac]
The Menagerie - A decent sized merchant ship, this one is run by all sorts of different creatures though none are humanoid. This ship was originally a travelling circus showing off all manner of awakened animals who were kept captive. The animals are quite amiable and will offer carry passengers in exchange for assistance selling their goods in markets. [painterinsomniac]
The Coffin - A casket-shaped ship that contains the body of a 21-ft giant. The top of the casket has been fitted with sails and rigging and is manned by a crew of humans who tell the party that the giant hired them before his death. He always wanted to sail around the world, so half of all his treasures would be given to the crew who sailed him around the world. The money is to be awarded upon the crews return to the giant's family home, and the crew must have an artefact from each land to prove their voyage complete to the family and get their loot. Of course, the crew isn't bothering with actually sailing around the world - they're content to just make port for a year and trade people for ancestral trinkets so they can return to the land of giants in a year and take their massive loot. They've been given a hefty advance to cover the cost of their long voyage, so money is no object. Adventurers can sell their items if the item is from a distinct background (eg a Dwarven Warhammer, an Elven scroll of healing, etc). [Anceaus]
The Lighthouse - This ship is captained by a young cowardly wizard and an equally nervous-looking crew of young human men. Atop the central mast is a large lighthouse light, which the owner uses to keep other ships far away from him while at sea so as to avoid any trouble. If approached, the captain will immediately begin grovelling and handing over loot at the sight of the party's weapons, offering them any onboard services he can think of for his crew to do for them (shoeshines, blade sharpening, armour mending).Turns out it's all an act - the captain is actually a conniving trickster who transports and deals in Light Blue Light, a magical drug that induces paranoia/twitchy behaviour but grants a 1d6 bonus to Strength for a period of 1 hour. [Anceaus]
The Nest - A vaguely ship-shaped bramble of collected branches and tar, this vessel doesn't look like it should even float, much less sail. It's run completely by Kenku's. They love to collect shiny objects and every nook and cranny of the nest is filled with glittering pieces of treasure and trinkets, among which are a range of magical items.Anything can be bought for a price, but what they especially want is for the adventurers to help them get a shiny old chalice that they've spotted beneath the waters of the harbour - they aren't big swimmers. [Anceaus]
The Half-Pint - An average looking, 2nd-rate ship run exclusively by halflings and gnomes. The crew are rolling a large number of barrels off the ship. A DC 13 Investigation Check will uncover that the Half-Pint has almost twice as many decks as a regular ship of that size and the diminutive crew use the extra space to smuggle illegal magical ale that has explosive side effects. If approached, the first mate (a scruffy gnome named Sebastiano who trusts people a little too easily considering his trade) will ask the party if they are 'for hire' or just want a cask.If the party is looking to buy, refer to the http://dndspeak.com/2017/12/100-random-potion-effects/ to determine what effect their beer has.If they're interested in the job, he would have them guard a supply wagon transporting contraband IPA to an old wizard who lives in an ivory tower in the nearby forest for a sum of 25gp each. What the party doesn't know is that the wizard is in the process of transitioning into a Lich, and the beer is the magical conduit by which he has been transforming. The wizard has the stats of a Revenant if the party chooses to fight him. If an unconscious creature drinks the illegal beer, they will be revived and become Undead. [Anceaus]
The "Blu Moon" - A two masted Caravel. An ocean going merchant ship, that has recently been damaged by pirates, but escaped because they dumped all cargo overboard. The ship is being repaired and expected to be ready in two days. The captain, Quintus "Full" Moon, already has agreed to transport 24 bales of dyed fabric to [INSERT DESTINATION] but is now looking for some more cargo for the same destination. The rest of the crew is: first mate Eldan Wind (m half-elf), bosun Karrla (f half-orc), helmsman Olfie Re (f half-elf), cook Carlin Zwiet (f gnome), and four human sailors: Frenk(m), Ra(f), Tjoris(m) en Huub(m). Huub is a 12 year old boy on his first trip. [Jeeve65]
The Leatherback - A merchant ship from a faraway land. It is made of a beautiful reddish wood and adorned with many colorful flags. About half the crew is made up of tortles and the other half consists of various other races they picked up on their travels. They are very friendly people and will happily buy you a drink or two in exchange for stories of your adventures or of the places and cultures you’ve experienced. If they take a liking to you they're even willing to give you free passage to wherever you'd like to travel... as long as that place happens to be the next port along their voyage. [TheMightyLoaf]
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Star~! Anchor, Interven-chan - Chapter 4

Author's Notes: After a tiring tour in Station 56568, M200 finally gets a chance to get some shut-eye. While she sleeps, her digimind drifts to the fateful day that changed her life forever.
This chapter is shorter but took a bit more time to complete because of IRL stuff, but I think i can project that this series will run for around 8-9 chapters, so we're almost halfway through!
Links to the FFN and AO3 are below - and the full text of Chapter 3 is below that! As always, please let me know what you think of the story!
======
Star~! Anchor, Interven-chan
-Story Synopsis-

Welcome to the GKTV-5 Newsroom, the premier (in my opinion) news agency of Brest Oblast. Follow me, M200 (or Potato), as my friends and I shed light on the mysteries of Brest Oblast and prove that the pen is mightier than the sword. With every new scoop, I learn a little more about myself and take one step closer to becoming a star anchor! (Part 3 of the Tasteless Series)

AO3 Link: [Chapter 1] - [Chapter 2] - [Chapter 3] - [Chapter 4 (New!)]
FFN Link: [Chapter 1] - [Chapter 2] - [Chapter 3] - [Chapter 4 (New!)]
Reddit Link: [Chapter 1] - [Chapter 2] - [Chapter 3]
=====
Prologue

Mid-Afternoon
Outskirts of Station 56586
Parking Lot

The cameraman, Alexi Stoyanovich, grunted as he loaded the last of their heavy equipment into the back of the GKTV-5 news van. He closed the tailgate door, dusted off his hands and then watched as the news van’s satellite dish retracted back into the van itself with a hiss of hydraulics.
“Almost like it was never there, huh?” Alexi commented as he folded his arms, “I wonder what these kids will come up with next.”
While the middle-aged man was marveling at the van’s retracting dish, the perky doll, Nagant Revolver, stuck her head out of the driver’s seat window and called,
“Mr. Stoyanovich, are you all good back there? Need any help?”
“Ah, no - i’m fine. All our equipment is accounted for, Babushka.” Alexi reassured with a thumbs up, “I was just about to get back into the cab so we can get rolling.”
Nagant grinned at Alexi and cheerfully added,
“By the way, Mr. Stoyanovich, you’re taking the front passenger seat this time around. Our sleepyheads are already knocked out cold in the back, after all.”
Alexi nodded and then stole a glance through the back seat window as he passed it by. There, he found both Jim Salmons and M200 fast asleep as they were already wearing their seat belts. Alexi snickered and then carried on into the passenger seat of the van.
“These two kids were hard at work not too long ago. Jimmy boy was mopping the floor with the vultures at the press gallery.” Alexi commented as he fastened his seat belt. He then brought out the miniature voice recorder from his pocket and added, “And Potato got us some really good scoop that we can use for tonight’s Live At Five.”
Nagant started the engine of the van and cheerfully explained,
“Well, Potato here stayed up all night trying to make a spiel to make up for flubbing the Super Shorty interview - so I sort of knew she was going to crash sometime soon. As for Mr. Salmons… iodide pills tend to make you humans sleepy, don’t they? Isn’t that why most people prefer not to travel through a radiation storm like we did?”
Alexi leaned back into his seat and nodded pensively,
“Well, normal people wouldn’t want to go through a storm of any kind if they could help it. However, Jimmy here was dead set on getting an explosive segment - and Potato was dead set on getting our bombshell exclusive. When folks are determined to do something - dolls and humans - there’s hardly anything that can stop them. And besides…! It takes years for the human body to get used to iodide pills. That just goes to show how much Jimmy wanted this.”
“I guess that’s true…” Nagant conceded. She then gave Alexi a sidelong glance and curiously probed, “What about you, Mr. Stoyanovich? You’re wide awake. The iodide pills don’t seem to have made you sleepy at all!”
Alexi shrugged his broad shoulders and boasted,
“Hmm… Perhaps it’s because I’ve been living in this world much longer than Jimmy has. I’ve seen the Third World War begin and end in my lifetime, so I’ve taken more than my fair share of iodide pills. Everyone had to take them, after all.”
A sympathetic frown formed on Nagant’s lips as she consoled,
“That must have been rough, Mr. Stoyanovich. I guess I’m fortunate that I.O.P. dolls like me and Potato were activated mostly after the war. I’m sure Potato would say the same thing.”
Alexi’s brow furrowed for a moment, but he sank into his seat and reclined it back. He brought it back so far that the backrest hit the sleeping Jim’s knee, drawing an irritable grunt from him.
That made Alexi snicker mischievously and return to his youthful expression as he changed the topic,
“Speaking of long tenures, Babushka, did you know I was there when Genevive discovered these two kids behind us?”
“Oh? I didn’t know that!” Nagant’s eyes widened with awe, “Though - I guess you aren’t Employee Number 0004 for nothing, Mr. Stoyanovich!”
“Hehehe, that’s right~!” Alexi puffed his chest proudly and recounted, “I was there when Genevive found Jimmy delivering newspapers and bussing tables in Minsk seven years ago. Then, just six months ago, Genevive and I discovered Potato right here in Brest!”
Nagant looked at her two sleeping passengers in the rear-view mirror and wore a motherly smile for them as she mused,
“Potato and Mr. Salmons are worlds apart and they’re often at odds with each other. However, when the two of them click, they’re an unstoppable force of nature! Madam Saint-Louis sure has an eye for talent for finding these two with you, Mr. Stoyanovich!”
“Work enough years in this industry and you’ll pick up a few things, Babushka! Careers aren’t made overnight - so Genevive and I are watching little Jimmy and our precious Potato with great interest. Surely, these two will do something great someday.”
“Same here - now let’s get this show on the road!”
=====
Star~! Anchor, Interven-chan
Chapter 4 - Stewed Potato
=====

May 22, 2062 - Late Evening
Brest Oblast - Entertainment District
Elbe River Live House

I remember that night like it was yesterday.
Thick clouds of cigarette smoke hung up in the air, paired with the muffled din of conversation and the crisp rattle of karmotrine and ice against glass. Welcome to the Elbe River Live House - a small watering hole in downtown Brest that had a small stage for wannabe performers and local acts.
With a hard guitar case in tow, I stepped onto the stage of the Elbe River under the bright and hot lights. I shielded my eyes as I walked sheepishly towards the standing microphone and the stool set up at center stage.
I sat myself down on the stool, fiddled around with it to adjust its height. Then, I popped open my guitar case to draw my trusty weapon - a handsome, polished maplewood acoustic guitar. It had six steel strings, standard tuning a fresh coat of varnish that was polished to mirror-like sheen.
The guitar’s wood was so shiny that I was practically able to see my own vague reflection on its face - as well as the nervous expression that I had been wearing at the time.
My eyes wandered away from the guitar and I dared to look at the audience gathered in the Live House that evening. There were no more than two dozen customers spread out in the venue, but just about everyone there was lost in their own worlds.
Hardly anyone noticed me when I took the stage. Aside from a few disinterested glances, my existence was only secondary to their glasses of karmotrine and their respective conversations.
Tough crowd tonight, I thought.
This wasn’t my first time performing at the Elbe River too, I reminded myself. More than that, I was the opening act for much more well-known artists, so I was doomed to obscurity already. So, I steeled my nervous, mechanical heart, brought my lips closer to the microphone and began my spiel.
“G-good evening everyone, and happy Ceasefire Day. World War Three ended ten years ago today, so that’s something to celebrate, r-right?”
Crickets.
Hardly anyone bothered to look my way. My timeslot had only just begun, but my spiel was already falling on deaf ears.
To be fair, my voice was trembling at the time, so I couldn’t completely blame the audience. Plus, in the long run, it didn’t matter.
I just had to perform my set - four or five songs - get paid and then go home.
Wherever home was going to be that night, that is.
During those times, ‘home’ for me tended to be some dinghy flophouse in a sketchy part of town. Sometimes, it was a shady spot under one of the overpasses of the M1 Highway somewhere.
Poor dolls like me who lived paycheck to paycheck didn’t have a lot of choice in terms of lodging. Even the homeless and the junkies wandering the city at night didn’t take kindly to dolls waltzing into their turf.
While I was ruminating about where I was going to be sleeping that night, among other things, I noticed a group of patrons walking into the live house. There were six people in that peculiar group - three men and three women - who were all dressed sharply compared to the usual patrons of the Elbe River.
Blazers, dress shirts, loafers, high heels and everything else you see when you think of ‘business casual’.
Unlike the rest of the patrons who were zoning out from my spiel, this sharply dressed group was paying keen attention to me. They took their seats towards the back of the live house and turned my way from time to time, even as they were ordering their drinks.
This was the first time I ever had people in the audience acknowledging my existence, so my nervousness threatened to come back with a vengeance. However, I took a deep breath and fought back against the pressure building up in my mechanical heart.
If these people were here to see me, I told myself, I had to give them one hell of a show.
I ended my spiel while I was ahead, picked up my guitar and then started my set.
I started with some Russian songs that the soldier boys and girls passing through Brest seemed to like. After that, I switched over to Belarusian folk songs that the locals sang along to. Then, I topped it off with a couple of songs from the West.
With every song I played, the crowd seemed to get more and more into it. I didn’t know if it was because of me or the karmotrine, but towards the end of my set, I had proud Russians and Belarusians singing along - as best as they could - to songs from their enemies just ten years ago.
Sweet Caroline. Who would have known?
Out of everyone in the Live House that evening, however, one of the ladies from the sharply-dressed group was enjoying herself quite a bit. She sang along and clapped to every song that I played - especially the Westerns - and danced like she was having the time of her life.
That, or the karmotrine was getting to her head.
It was sort of heartening to see, though, I’ll admit. I wanted to believe that it was my skill that brought the crowd to life that night.
There’s a saying amongst performers, you see.
If you can move just one person with your performance, then your performance has made a difference.
That must have been my time in the sun, I told myself. My five - or rather, thirty - minutes of fame.
So, I bowed off to relatively warm applause and disappeared behind the backstage curtains.
Back to obscurity.
Or so I thought.
The owner of the live house was waiting for me there as usual. He had a small brown envelope in his hands. It was filled with my meager payment for the evening.
When I took the envelope, however, I quickly noticed that the stack of rubles in the envelope was a little thicker than usual.
“I haven’t seen a crowd this worked up for an opening act in a while.” The owner explained, “Some patrons even wanted to give you tips.”
Tips!?
Oh my, this was the first time I ever got a bonus. Could it be those sharply-dressed folk I saw earlier?
Regardless, I profusely thanked the owner and made my exit through the back door of the venue. The next performer - a fairly popular three-piece band - was already taking the stage, so the crowd that I managed to charm earlier was pumped up once more.
Perhaps that lady enjoying herself would have an even better evening now that some real musicians were about to perform. With that thought in mind, I finally bid farewell to my time in the sun and wondered how I was going to spend my rubles.
However, fate had other things in store for me.
In the back alley of the live house, under a dim, flickering street lamp, I found myself face to face with that sharply-dressed, blond-haired lady from the audience. One of her companions, a large burly man, was with her too. The rest of her group, however, was nowhere to be seen.
The lady approached me with a warm smile on her lips and a mild flush of red on her cheers from the karmotrine she downed. She then greeted me with a compliment.
“That was a wonderful performance, Miss Doll. You’ve got a nice, clear voice - and you really put yourself into the performance. You’re quite skilled with that guitar too!”
“E-eh? Hehehe, you think so?” I bashfully stammered a reply.
“I do, Miss Doll. Dare I say - you have a voice and a face made for television!”
“T-television…?”
Oh gosh… I’m not good with compliments like this.
I was afraid that I would clam up like I normally did in tense situations, however… that tension never seemed to come.
Instead, as I stood with this lady and her companion, I felt an odd calmness washing over me. This lady’s voice was as smooth as silk and carried a faint French accent too. Moreover, her very presence was refined and lady-like in a sort of way that poor old me could only dream of becoming.
This lady then brought out her purse and pulled out a neat-looking business card and introduced herself.
“My name is Genevive Saint-Louis, and this is my associate Alexi Stoyanovich. The two of us are from the GKTV-5 Newsroom Brest Oblast, down over at the Commerce District.
She then handed me the card and smiled confidently at me as she offered,
“Have you ever considered a career in media, Miss Doll?”
With that fateful encounter, I knew that my life was going to be changed forever.
=====

February 8, 2063 - Late Afternoon
Brest Oblast - Residential District
On The Road Home

“Potato…? Hey Potato! Wake up!”
Nagant’s voice filled my mind and slowly drew me away from dreamland. Despite this, I somehow still felt like I was flying. I furrowed my brow with frustration as I grumbled,
“Babushka…? Five more minutes…”
“Five more minutes!?” Nagant lashed, “I’ve been carrying you on my back for fifteen minutes now!”
“... eh!?!?”
My tired, groggy eyes finally shot open as I realized that the smaller Nagant had been carrying me piggyback through the streets of the Residential District.
Once Nagant knew I was awake, she set me down on my own two feet and started stretching her arms and her back. It was almost like one of those choreographed exercises you see on the net. Nagant was carrying the larger me the entire time, though, so I didn’t dare to comment.
“S-sorry about that, Babushka.” I apologized, “I can sleep like a rock sometimes.”
“Ah, don’t worry about it, Potato.” Nagant then flexed her muscles and boasted, “Ole’ Babushka is strong - she can carry you as many times as you need her to!”
“Babushka!”
“In any case, did you have a good rest?” Nagant asked with a bright smile, “You were sort of talking in your sleep.”
I nodded and replied,
“I did! I was having a nice dream, as a matter of fact! It was about how I met Genevive and Alexi at the live house.”
Nagant tilted her head and put a hand on her hip as she argued,
“There you go again about dreams. Dolls don’t dream, you know. Mr. Salmons had a segment where he interviewed Miss Persicaria and some I.O.P. bigwigs about this a few months back. They said dolls don’t dream.”
I heaved a sigh and argued,
“Well… it felt like a dream to me. I know what Miss Persicaria said. I was holding the boom microphone for that interview after all. She said that it’s practically idling while viewing memories in Level-2 consciousness, but isn’t that how humans dream?”
“Who knows?” Nagant shrugged with a dismissive tone, “I’m not too concerned about neural clouds and stuff. It’s not like either of us are going to get upgrades soon.”
“... that’s true, I guess.”
Nagant’s smile returned to her lips as she took me by the hand and urged,
“But enough about that! Now be a good Potato and follow Babushka, okay?”
With that, the two of us headed down the road home. All the while, Nagant told me about what happened while I was out like a light.
“Mr. Stoyanovich and Mr. Salmons are in the Newsroom. 5PM is coming up soon, so Mr. Salmons wanted to be ready for his “Live at Five” segment.”
“Eh? That dummy Jim’s still going to go on air in his state? Wasn’t he knocked out too?”
“Mr. Salmons was already wide awake by the time we reached the studio.” Nagant said with a mischievous smirk, “I’m pretty sure he saw your beautiful sleeping face, Potato~!”
“Geh… I don’t like the sound of that.” I frowned in protest, “Is there a way to erase human memories, Babushka?”
“Don’t worry!” Nagant reassured. She let go of my hand, brought out her smartphone device and opened up a picture, “Mr. Stoyanovich snapped a picture of Mr. Salmons’ sleeping face too - open mouth, a bit of drool. It’s completely different from what he looks like on the billboard, huh?”
“Delete that abomination! Do - not - want!” I lashed wildly.
Nagant just laughed heartily at my expense. She then raised up her pointer finger and added,
“By the way, Potato. Mr. Salmons listened to your recording on our way home. He wanted me to tell you something when you woke up.”
“What does that dummy want now!?” I fumed at Nagant.
“He wanted to say you did a great job today and that you should take it easy. He approved a small bonus for you - it should be wired to your account soon.”
“Eh…? Really?” I gasped with disbelief, “No way…”
I hastily fumbled for my smartphone device and checked my bank account balance.
True enough, there was a good deal of funds deposited there not too long ago from our accounting department. Half a month’s salary in one pop - on top of my February pay!
As soon as I saw the funds, I remembered the generous tip that I received at the Elbe River Live House more than six months ago. Tears started to form at the side of my eyes and a trembling smile formed on my lips as I whispered to myself,
“It’s… it’s like back then. My efforts paid off…”
Nagant’s smile grew wider as she happily revealed,
“It sure did, Potato. That’s why I want us to make a little detour!”
“A detour?”
“Yes! Since it’s on the way, we can drop by the grocery store to do the shopping we’ve been putting off. There’s a limited time sale going on - so Babushka will make you anything you want today to celebrate!”
“A-anything!?”
Nagant nodded proudly and asked, “So what can Babushka make for you, Potato?”
“S-stroganoff. I want beef stroganoff. With green onions… and sour cream!”
Nagant folded her arms and nodded,
“Stroganoff it is. Let’s get going, then! We still have enough time to make it home to catch Live At Five on the radio. We’ll be able to hear your interview with Miss M14 on the air!”
I wiped the tears from the sides of my eyes and nodded back.
“Mm~! Let’s go, Babushka!”
I took Nagant by the hand once more and ran toward the grocery store together with her. Joy and warmth were brimming in my mechanical heart as Nagant and I ran through the streets, laughing and cheering triumphantly all the way through. I felt the gentle breeze blowing in my hair as my spirit seemed to soar to the heavens.
Surely someday, I’ll finally be able to reach for the stars.
I’ll find my place in the sun once more!
=====
Epilogue

Early Evening
M1 Highway (Belarus) - Eastbound

As the sun began to set over the Polish-Belarusian border crossing, a shiny, black sports coupe entered the Belarus side of the highway en route to Brest Oblast. In the midst of the snow-swept floodplains and the rugged terrain of the sandy wastelands that flanked the highway, the sports coupe couldn’t be more out of place.
Highway lights started to flicker on as the coupe drove Eastbound while the aggressive roar of the Western European engine filled the Belarusian countryside.
Inside of the coupe, however, the roar of the engine was much milder as the female driver calmly kept one hand on the wheel. She peacefully smoked a lit cigarette and wore designer aviator glasses that matched with her fancy clothes that made her look like one of the models in the old Western cigarette advertisements.
The lady then reached for the knob of the coupe’s radio and turned it on. There was a brief moment of static before the theme song of GKTV-5’s Live At Five segment started to play. The voice of the host, Jim Salmons, then promptly followed.
“ Good evening, Brest Oblast. I am Jim Salmons and welcome to GKTV-5’s Live At Five. For everyone joining us on the radio as well, thank you for being with us tonight. ”
“Right back at you, Jimmy~!” The driver chuckled as she puffed her cigarette with a satisfied smile.
“ For tonight’s program, we have a number of breaking news stories to share with you. First - we will go over the press conference with Commander Gentiane and the newly-minted Subcommander M14. After that, we also have an exclusive interview with Subcommander M14, conducted by our very own M200. ”
When the driver heard this, she ran her free hand through her locks of long, blond hair and commented,
“Working together now, huh? My, these kids are growing up so fast~!”
Before the rest of the news program could start, however, the coupe’s hands-free phone device started to ring and overshadowed the radio. The driver glanced at the display screen hovering over her radio and a small smile formed on her lips.
She touched the display screen with her free hand to answer the call with a playful yet confident tone,
“Bon soiree, Helian. How may I be of assistance?”
To Be Continued
=====
Notes:
May 22, 2062 is the same day that Springfield and her Echelon 1 rescued FNC in Area S09.
Songs referenced in this chapter:

Katyusha by Mikhail Isakovsky and Matvey Blanter, as performed by Igor Presnyakov
Zelenyye Glaza (Green Eyes) by Timur Mutsurayev, as performed by Russian soldiers
Belarus Ochka (Belarusian Girl) by Angeline Pipper, as performed by Angeline Pipper
Back in the USSR by The Beatles
Sweet Caroline by Neil Diamond, as performed by Neil Diamond

[Haggard Star] Book 2 Part 6

The chief technician pressed and held the startup button for the required handful of seconds, and watched as the small lights on the power cells flicked on, indicating the chassis was now running. He then slid the protective housing cover in place with a satisfying click.
Finally, he then pulled together the artificial skin back over and pressed it together. After a few seconds, the self-healing material melded and became seamless.
At this point, the AI core had begun to boot. RD-591195’s initialization process began to walk through a small ocean of fitness routines and starting procedures. Hardware serial numbers had changed and needed to be registered and interfaced. Safety tests iterated, confirming each part registered and responded within expected ranges. Simulations of movement inputs, as well as sensory information were also run, with satisfying results.
It had only been a few seconds into the several-minute long boot-up so far, but the AI core was already iterating over gigabytes of pre-installed driver and sub processor routines to make sure the thousands of components that made up its chassis performed to Robodyne’s exacting specifications.
Once the fitness routines for the hardware checks all came back green across the board, it was finally time to begin to initialize the AI database and personality routines.
RD-591195, colloquially known as Alan, began to ‘wake up’.
Alan opened his eyes, and a second set of tests began, comparing visual and auditory sensory input against the previously simulated unit tests and pleasingly everything matched well within margin of error.
Small impulses initiated throughout the chassis similarly confirming real physical results matched the expected movement behavior tests, again returning green.
After nearly 5 minutes of boot up time, Alan finally sat himself up on the table and looked around the room.
The chief technician stared at him for a moment before finally speaking.
“Report status.”
Alan processed the huge logs of data generated during the boot up process in an instant, and consolidated the facts down to an easy to understand form.
“Everything checked out OK. No errors.”
“Good, nice to see we managed this on the second try. How about you don’t get your ass shot so we never have to do this ever again?” The chief tech snipped as he and his team moved to finish cleanup of the work area.
Alan could see heavy, dark circles under his eyes through his protective glasses, and even though the man wore a head-to-toe pristine white cleansuit, he could tell from the man’s sluggish movements that he was exhausted. He glanced around the room and saw similar behavior from everyone else on the repair team, including Senior Engineer Valerie.
“I certainly have no plans to get shot again,” Alan replied, eliciting an eye roll from the tech.
“If I remember right, you were assigned the designation Alan?” Valerie asked, drawing Alan’s attention.
“I chose Alan, yes.”
“Hm. Alright Alan, well we need to get out of these guys’ way so they can get home and enjoy what’s left of their weekend,” she commented before gesturing to the exit of the clean room.
Alan checked his clock and realized it was the early AM of Sunday. He had been completely powered down for 4 days now.
“I had realized the damage was rather extensive, but didn’t think that it would take that long to repair my chassis.”
“Well, no one’s ever done it before. You infiltrator units generally don’t take much damage. And the ones that did were - smartly - written off. I dunno who’s dick you sucked over there, but they paid bank to make sure you weren’t just tossed. On that note, someone from the military is gunna be here to debrief you properly from whatever it was you were up to. Once you get dressed, we’ll do the certification trials so you’re done and ready by the time they get here,” Valerie explained as the airlock processed them out of the clean room.
“Excellent. Clothes are generally a good idea,” Alan joked.

Alan quickly got dressed in some casual street wear provided by the company before they left the current building on the Robodyne facilities campus and crossed the small, park-like outdoor area between. It was still dark out, given how early it was, but between the overhead lights and walkway guidelights, the entire campus was quite bright. Shortly, they arrived at the “Field Test Center”, which realistically was a warehouse-sized building that had various simulated terrains, environments and buildings, as well as a track that ran the full perimeter of the indoor area. Fully one third of the inner area was a free-running and parkour area.
When Alan was first built, he had run various tests to pass certification. Given the major rebuild, it made sense that he would have to re-certify to ensure everything was working as expected. Infiltrator units such as himself were held to some of the highest standards in any sort of robotic production. Largely due to the fact that any sort of failure, irregularity, or breakdown could blow their cover. And they were nearly impossible to repair.
Valerie led Alan onto the main floor and waved over one of the engineers who was running trials on a quadruped prototype robot.
“Hey, can you re-run this one through the infiltrator certification trials? He-”, Valerie’s explanation interrupted by an intense, prolonged yawn, “He’s gotta be ready to go by 9. Meeting with management and some military types.”
“Sure. Jesus you look tired,” the engineer - Alan cross-referenced him to find his name was Theodore Garcia - replied, sympathetically, “You really oughta get some sleep.”
“That’s my plan,” Valerie lazily nodded before heading for the door.
The pair watched her until she exited through the door, before Theodore turned to Alan.
“So, Infiltrator Cert, huh? I’ve never actually seen one of you in person. Sorta freaky how real you look.”
“I’ll take it as a compliment,” Alan said with an easy smile.
“Alright. She said ‘re-run’? Have you gone through it before?”
“Yep, several months ago. Got a pretty hefty rebuild done due to workplace damage, so I need to be re-certified.”
“I’d seen the spec sheet on your model and didn’t think repairs were done,” Theodore said as he tapped at his tablet and made the quadruped bot stop and head back towards a makeshift workshop table.
“So I’ve been informed. Apparently I’m being re-tasked, hence why the Chief Engineer needs me prepped for that meeting in the morning.”
“Right, right. OK, lemme go get my supervisor and we can get this rolling,” the young engineer nodded.
He quickly tucked his tablet into his armpit and ran a light jog over to the table, depositing the tablet. With that he then tapped the small device embedded in his ear and called down his supervisor.
It was a short wait before he arrived, and after getting brought up to speed on the situation by Theodore, they got everything set up. The older engineer pushed Alan’s hair at his neck out of the way and clipped in a small drive into the universal port. Theodore rapped at his tablet, and Alan’s processor then recognized - and slaved to - the attached drive. All logging data began to feed to the testing field’s main database for analysis. After confirming the connection and feed were good, the duo went onto an observation platform that overlooked the field.
“Alright, unit, we’ll get through this quick as we all have better things to be doing this morning,” the supervisor spoke through the intercom.
“Begin mobility trial one.”
Alan walked over to the track that ran the perimeter and stood at the white paint that indicated the starting line. After a heartbeat, there was a shrill beep that blared through the speakers, and Alan took off in a walk. It was a leisurely pace, effectively a calibration pass to ensure the testing and tracking suite of the field’s servers were getting good data.
Alan’s own internal stats indicated that everything from his movement to his power cells were doing great.
After reaching the halfway point, Alan then broke into a moderate jog, continuing the ramp-up of the testing.
“Looks good, next,” came the gruff voice of the supervisor.
Alan then shifted forward and pushed into a full sprint. While not superhuman by any metric, Alan could clock an all-out sprint at nearly 20km/h which made him decidedly faster than average.
A full lap around the track later and an affirmation from the intercom again to proceed to the next step.
Over the next hour, Alan worked his way through a multitude of mobility and stress exercises. Moving obstacles, basic free-running, climbing, jumping, as well as discerning visual and audio markers and cues at random intervals mixed in with all the other tests. It was a complete physical and sensory bombardment, but all the while Alan noted no problems at all.
When they finally called the test, he trotted back over to meet them.
“It’ll take about an hour to process the log data, but it didn’t look like any problems. Theodore, you’ve got it from here. If anything comes up call me again,” the supervisor said before he too disappeared through the door.
“Just you and me, once again,” Alan smiled.
“Looks like it,” came the dismissive reply, “Go ahead and wait by the table over there, I need to finish these trial runs on this before my shift ends.”
Alan walked over and leaned against the table and watched the young engineer work on his quadruped project.

Roughly 45 minutes later, the data was processed and exactly as Alan had already internally noted, everything was green across the board. The techs that repaired him clearly went through hell to make it happen, but there’d be no denying that they did an incredible job. He’d talk to Misha later about ensuring they all saw a nice bonus in the very near future. With that signed off and the debrief looming, Alan said his goodbyes to the disinterested engineer and headed his way over to the neighboring building where the meeting was to take place. After getting some instructions from the front desk on which room to head to, Alan worked his way deep into the center of the office building and through several security gates. At the final checkpoint, Alan was briskly escorted to a small office room on the basement subfloor. The guard swiped his ID card to unlock the door, and held the door open for Alan as he entered the room before quietly closing it behind him.
As the door clicked, Alan noted that his network connection instantly went dead. The room was shielded from any signals. It makes sense, given a lot of sensitive company data was likely discussed in offices like this, and no doubt would be useful for them during a debrief that pertained to what happened with the aliens.
Alan scanned both of the men in the room as soon as they entered his field of vision. One Colonel Malcolm Reeds, and the other, the CEO of Robodyne - Garrett Locks.
“Hopefully I’m not in trouble,” Alan joked in an attempt to break the ice.
“Stop with the comedy routine, unit. This is important,” Locks commanded, without blinking.
“Understood, Mr. Locks,” Alan responded.
The elderly man was the picture-perfect embodiment of all business. His hair shorn close, but his scalp was still covered in a pure white peach fuzz. His wrinkled, furrowed brow showed signs of a long life of hard work and concentration, but his eyes stared straight at Alan with a fierce intensity.
The Colonel, comparatively, was probably 2 decades younger. He barely paid Alan any mind at all when he entered, instead scrolling through a tablet reading documents, trying to get a handle on what to cover for the debrief.
They clearly were not in the mood for anything lighthearted. Purely professional. Alan could do that. He swapped to a different social paradigm structure in his personality set and took a seat at the table with them.
“What do you two wish to discuss?”
“I’m still not fully privy to what you were up to when we handed you off to the military before, but I’m aware it involved infiltrating the Aliens’ bases. Due to our contracts with the military, your databases are aggressively encoded and blackboxed, so nothing was to be, or able to be extracted for review. Part of the reason why you were repaired rather than scrapped was because a general took a particular shine to you, unit, and managed to get all the costs signed off to make that happen. The other reason is so you can give your full account on what happened. The Colonel here will handle that aspect. I’m here to ensure nothing sensitive to the company’s secrets are discussed unless absolutely required. That, and I’d like to see what about one of our unit’s designs managed to get so much attention.” Locks explained, gesturing to sit down at the end of the long table.
“Of course, sir,” Alan responded and took his seat.
“Colonel?”
“Right. I see here you were designated the name ‘Alan’?”
“I chose Alan, yes,” Alan affirmed with a node.
“Chose? Hm.” Locks murmured to himself, but didn’t comment further.
“Well, If it’s fine with both of you, I’ll use that instead of RD9-whatever-it-was for your serial number,” the Colonel said, his eyes finally lifting from his screen.
The man looked tired. He likely was flown in just before this meeting, Alan noted. His speaking habits also indicated he just wanted the meeting done and over with.
They could have just scheduled the meeting for later if it was going to cause so many people to be exhausted, Alan thought.
“That is fine,” Locks said with a nod that Alan matched.
“So why not start at the beginning,” Reeds prompted.
“Very well,” Alan responded, before proceeding to articulate in exacting detail the events of his mission.
From his assignment given by General Misha Orlov, to the expected capture, to eventually meeting - and coordinating with - the Threespus Manus to make a plan to fast-track the peace treaty.
Alan cooly and efficiently laid it all out.
Locks was laser focused on Alan throughout, and Alan could tell was taking notes on his AR glasses. Reeds was also taking notes on his tablet, and also recording the entire debrief audio.
When Alan finally finished with his plan to sneak the Coalition representatives onto the Silverback and push the meetings before any objections could be raised, he leaned back in his chair.
Locks only offered a curt “Hrm” as Alan’s story finished. Alan wasn’t quite sure what that meant.
“Frankly, I’m astonished that that plan worked. Mr. Locks, as far as I know, the Robodyne Infiltrator Units aren’t designed for that sort of lateral thinking?” Reeds began as he finished his notes.
“They’re not,” Locks growled.
While he sounded displeased, though, Alan could tell that Locks was very interested in how that came about.
“Infiltrator units are built for asymmetric warfare tactics, being able to attack, sabotage and the like if needbe behind enemy lines. But coming up with a plan to smuggle enemy delegates into friendly lines to sidestep the entire conflict? That’s certainly at a strategic level we never designed or simulated for. I’ll be having my people look into it further,” he continued.
Alan’s machine learning dataset ticked a number of values associated to that type of planning behavior and lateral thinking up several notches to ensure he could come back to them in the future. Or, as humans would put it, he felt a little bit of pride in how that went.
“However,” Locks spoke, as if to quell the sensation. His steely gaze locked with Alan’s.
“There were certainly consequences from that plan, where there not? It may have worked out well enough in the end, but you risked the aliens’ getting shot, on a human vessel. The only way they didn’t was you sacrificing your body. While commendable, it was dangerous, stupid and ill thought out. And has come at an incredible cost in money and man-hours to rectify.”
Alan couldn’t disagree with any of it.
“AI aren’t creative in the same way humans are. Though I’ll admit that whatever in our Infiltrator training allowed for it to make this plan up is certainly closer than usual. Understand this, unit. Given your next assignment, you WILL be much more aware and diligent about these so-called ‘creative plans’. You will give them deeper consideration and forethought about possible consequences. I won’t see another war start up with these aliens because of one of MY machines. Is that clear?” Locks finished, eyes still on Alan.
“Yes sir, Mr. Locks.”
“Good. When this business is all done, I’ll want to have the techs do a deep dive into your dataset. While the current results aren’t fully there, it’s still a pleasing development in how our AI is progressing. Colonel?” Locks said as he leaned back, apparently content.
“Right. Several of the top brass have signed off on this assignment, with General Orlov being the one that pushed for it initially. He seems to have been pleased with your work until now, so you’re being reassigned to a new task. Mr. Locks says that you’ve been fully re-certified and are good to go, so you’ll be shipping out today.”
“And what is my task, sir?” Alan asked.
“You’ll be going to one of the Coalition city-ships, and working personally with some of their leadership. That alien, the threepus? Apparently you’ll be working with it as an attache, acting as a consistent go-between between it and the human Ambassadors already over there. Do whatever you need to do to facilitate cohesion and positive relations. Any information about their government structure, technology or the like is to be passed along back to Earth via secured channels as well.”
“So I’ll be spying on them then?”
“As much as any other Ambassador or representative constantly interfacing with foreign leadership is, yes. Officially, your primary task is to help the Coalition understand the human technological basis. I understand we’ll soon be opening up a work-exchange program between our engineers and the Coalitions’. So whatever we can know ahead of time would make that easier, and let us stay on top of things.”
“Yes sir.”
Alan had to admit. Misha came up with a hell of a way to get back at him for his prank.

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