No Steve this week, as he was off to see a gig that wasn't happening today, so Wombat was rather quiet.
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Once Keen had eaten, he was directed to a passenger stateroom that had been disconnected from everything and tipped into the shower. His clothes were scanned in detail for concealed tools or electronics, and once he emerged, he was given a very thorough medical scan himself, both to check his status and to look for implants. Strangely, he had none.
Almost inevitably, Keen's curiousity and slicer skills got the better of him, and three days into Jump he was discovered to have dismantled the terminal in his stateroom in an attempt to get it working. This was the last straw, and he was marched to a low berth and unceremoniously installed.
When the Mountain Walk emerged at Kaldamar, it was to find the Trenchant was already there as arranged, having identified herself and arranged refuelling which was nearly complete. Captain Sterling had delivered the 'mail', a package of proposals from the Collace government, Collacan companies and Imperial companies for trade opportunities with Kaldamar.
Keen was decanted from his low berth and transferrred to the brig aboard the Trenchant for further interrogation, with the Master-at-Arms being warned about his capabilities. While this was going on, Vespasian was asked to set up something in Keen's hand computer to make it trackable (by Vespasian only). It was designed to be quite the reverse, but the robot was able to set this up.
While the Trenchant finished her refuelling, the Cats returned to their island - Pipsqueak Island, or Feng Island - on Kaldamar, and upgraded their shack to a proper hab pod with power, fridge, deckchairs, small boat and fishing gear. As they did so, signs were spotted that someone else had been here; some small plant had been carefully excavated, and someone had stayed in the hut, leaving it quite tidy. They added CCTV cameras.
Apparently, McLellan Factors had sent a representative to protest about the “illegal” destruction of their facility and “murder” of their personnel on Kaldamar; illegal under Imperial law - but Kaldamar wasn’t an Imperial world. The local government had retaliated by handing them a local lawsuit for invasion and criminal dominance for the period they had the world in an economic hammerlock. The rep retreated muttering dire things about “mercenaries” and “corporate world”. Nevada got a nice exterior image of the Trenchant and left it with them to send over if more emphasis was required.
After their necessitated departure from the Nabeth system, the Cats lay doggo inside the Trenchant for this brief visit. The ship Jumped in, refuelled, and Jumped out the next day for Cache 1.
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As the sensors of the Trenchant updated the record of the Long Walk's last visit, the holographic display in the 'tank' changed to show the planetoid still there, surrounded by a huge nimbus of debris and frozen fuel - and four starships.
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Given where they were, the assumption that all four were pirates or pirate-adjacent seemed reasonable. After a little consideration, they decided to investigate the mated pair first. A transmission was already coming in from it, and they played it to find out what the crew had to say.
A heavilly-accented voice, recognizable as that of an Aslan, came across the link. "This is Trader Helrouhtal. We have encountered pirates, human vessel, and require your assistance." Even for Aslan, this sounded a bit stiff, formal and not necessarily pleading. "We misjumped into this part of space. These vessels were already here. We retrieved supplies from this one but are close to running out."
Knowing glances exchanged, the Cats called back. "Please assemble in your cargo bay and open the outer lock, and we will board you." The response was affirmative but seemed rather grudging.
The Trenchant was equipped with six 300-ton troop transports, and the Cats collected twenty Marines and some spare vacc suits and headed across to the Aslan ship.
I boobed here and told the players the TCs were 50 tons, which was from an earlier draft of the Trenchant. Doesn't change anything really.
The cargo doors on the side of the Helrouhtal were indeed open, and Nevada and Feng took eight marines and two 'cats in and cycled the lock. A few moments later it opened into a large cargo bay. A similar lock was visible at the far side, and a few large cargo containers stood on the deck. A walkway ran long the for'ad and aft bulkheads of the bay halfway up its' two dock height. As the Marines cautiously fanned out, Nevada spoke again on the same frequency. "You don't seem to be here.." he said. "We have a problem, we can't open the hatches." "Fine, then," said Nevada, "We'll be going..." just as the first shots rang out.
The first shot was actually a RAM grenade, fired from behind one of the crates. The PD on Feng's armour swatted it almost contemptuously, though one of the Marines was caught in the explosion. Without the AP of the propelled munition, however, he was just bounced about. A short, savage firefight ensued, with Aslan in battle armour up on the for'ad walkway and behind the crates. A couple of the Marines were injured, and Feng's shadowcat Twinkles was riddled and put out of action before the five Aslan were dealt with.
Nevada sent four men, including one with the relevant training, aft to shut down the plant, while Feng led four more for'ad looking for the bridge. What they found was very different.
After passing staterooms and a sickbay, including one room with a partially-dissected and malnourished Aslan corpse, they came on a secure hatch which led into a dingy room resembling a "tube hotel"; rows and rows of tiny slots for a sentient to sleep in. Most hotels, though, do not come equipped with shackles... or a rack of explosive slave collars. Thankfully, the slots were all empty. Nauseated, Feng realized why the Aslan had fought to the death. Looking at her troops, she saw tears on one face, accompanied by an expression of grim hatred. PFC Thodison clearly had friends or relatives missing.
Further for'ad they found the Bridge, where two Aslan waited, weapons at their feet, with a third dead on the floor from a self-inflicted gunshot wound. Feng glared at them. "Talk human?" she barked through her external speakers. One looked baffled and the other nodded. A pink mist of fury seemed to fill Feng's vision. Pulling her Arclite energy sword, she rammed it through the head of the non-linguist, then pointed at the emergency vacc suit locker on the wall. "Put that on," she grated. "Any more?" The crewman shook his head.
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Searching both vessels, they turned up more sad evidence; stripped human and Aslan corpses aboard the Icarus, slain in the firefight when the Aslan boarded the earlier-arriving corsair and eaten as the food ran out. The surviving corsair was added to the brig's population, and the Mountain Walk headed out in pursuit of the last ship - the Kristol. Despite her enormous velocity, she was overtaken and docked. Her contents were similarly grim; ten human slaves crammed into a stateroom and left to die as the life support ran out, while the crew and 'troops' fought over who would get to go into the low berths for a chance at survival when the ship reached Nabeth in a couple of hundred years. Twelve of the thugs were frozen, but they'd been put in by someone who didn't know what he was doing and only three survived decanting. Normally, Wombat would have supervised cold sleep revival, but these people didn't deserve it, so Feng and Nevada didn't mention it to him. They, too, ended up in the brig. The slave bodies were removed far more reverently, and three matched the DNA list they had for missing Collacans. These were recorded for notification of their families before the bodies were buried in space.
Another prize crew was sent off with the Kristol - looking unenthused at spending a week aboard the haunted derelict - and the Cats turned to the Blue Razor ship in the rubble field.
This turned out to be a Flayer class Blue Razor corsair, in its original configuration, that had in desperation tried to fly into the field of smashed base pieces, rock shards and frozen fuel around the asteroid; whether in hopes of surviving supplies on the rock or of salvaging some fuel it was impossible to tell. Nothing salvageable remained, material or data.