Departure Day MORA, May 21 Imperial Year 1115

Jul 28, 2025 3:12 am
Mora Near Space Control has MISS FORTUNE on their schedule for launch at 1300. It will take approximately 7 1/2 hours to reach the 100-diameter limit, thus you should be able to 'jump' any time after 2030. There is a very large amount of space traffic around Mora, but Mora Control does a good job of routing ships efficiently.

Thessa Ting has settled into her stateroom a couple of days ahead of departure. Fairly unusual, but she's paid an extra 600cr for the priveledge. Though she expressed displeasure at the amount, she apparently doesn't hold any grudge. She doesn't hole up in the stateroom much; but comes out at the usual meal times, plus makes copious use of the Passenger Lounge exercise equipment and entertainment module. Her only noticeable quirk is her visceral dislike for LC Rains, but she seems affable and open with other crew.

Checking in on her stateroom reveals no contraband or anything out of the ordinary. Her only baggage is the 'smart' follower-case, which is quiescent since entering the stateroom. Thessa shows paperwork for its contents certified by Mora/Imperium Customs and Security. The bag is clearly highest Imperium tech and it would be very difficult to tamper with it or gain access without Thessa's consent...

---
Your other two High Passengers arrive a few hours prior to departure in normal fashion. They bring with them the normal amount of baggage expected of Travellers; each with a carry-bag plus a larger travel case. "Monseur et Madame LeFrontaine" the well dressed 'Solomani' gentleman presents normal travel documents. "I am Theodorick, but please to call me 'Terry'. And this is my spouse, Adriana." The sophont in question nods shyly. Its unclear what their gender might be, though their papers indicate 'human-female'. They do look rather young as compared to the middle-aged 'Terry'. But the gentleman seems relaxed and cheery. "We are going to Fornice on Holiday" he offers. "I own a small restaurant in Wavecrest City..."startown" as it is sometimes called. 'Chez Terry'. I wasn't sure if we'd be able to shut down for a month , so we only decided to travel last moment. My cousin has taken charge while we go away. Adriana has family on Fornice, and we intend to visit them at Port-au-Prince, one of the larger Arcologies. Have you been there?"
---

Your middle passenger, "Shaky", arrives less than an hour before departure. Almost at the point you might give up on him. He carries only a small carry-bag plus a lock-box which he hands over immediately along with his papers. "Aepheon Telom" is his documented name. A stocky human-male of perhaps 50 standard-years. In good condition physically, perhaps some sensory implants and vision enhancements; but subtle ones. Dressed well in standard Mora business attire, looking more affluent than his insistance on "middle passage" might have indicated.

"The lock-box has my two firearms; body-pistol and compact SMG. Plus normal ammunition. The customs certification is here..." He hands that over. "Free-lance personal security is my trade. Going to Fornice for my client.

"I won't be any trouble. Sorry about the late arrival...but that kind of thing comes with the territory sometimes."
Jul 28, 2025 3:22 am
https://i.imgur.com/Wr5KYCD.jpeg

The sophont with the 'artificial voice' arrives a few hours prior to MISS FORTUNE's departure. "Birstag Foshba" turns out to be a very strange alien indeed, a HIVER! They are accompanied by four human laborers pulling grav-assist sleds with the 1 dTon of advanced-tech medical devices. "As you require, I have come to person you and visit one to one. Freight-cargo is ready for load.

"I glad to meet you.

"Goods very important and for very important man. Admiral Count Santanocheev have much influence. You must never dissapoint him! Personal delivery, no carrier-service or other handling. Admiral's staff handle all customs so never mind no difficulty for you. Will pay 5,000cr when goods turned over. You very good for taking this shipment! Always come see me for best advanced med gear!"
Jul 28, 2025 11:25 pm
Earlier in the day, Tharrok had visited the vendor he had contracted for his ‘Low Berth Thank You Gifts’ and brought them back to the ship. He currently is on the Flight Deck bringing the ship’s systems up and running the pre-departure checklists as he has done so many times. He still meticulously checks each item off manually, because that is just one difference between a good pilot and the best pilots. As has become the custom on MISS FORTUNE, Tharrok listens in on the Internal Crew Net, each crew member usually having an open mic dedicated just for this Net.

It strikes him odd that this is the first time hearing the client-receiver’s name for the "grey" goods set up by Tamm. He knows the name… damned near everyone in the sector has heard the name. At first, hearing others mention Count Santanocheev only vaguely tickled T-Jive’s ear, but when Birstag Foshba says "Admiral Count Santanocheev", it suddenly clicks.

Knowing the built in extra time between certain steps, he pauses for a moment and types in a few quick things in his hand comp, confirming what he already knew. Tharrok’s hackles stood up as he started putting the pieces together. Then he types a few quick notes to LC and sets the delivery delay for an hour into the lift to orbit begins.
[ +- ] LC Rains
Once he finishes that little note, he goes back to his checklists. "Attention Crew," he says on the Crew Net and broadcasts over the PA Intercom in the Cargo Bay. "MISS FORTUNE is scheduled to ‘Lift’ in 1 hour and 7 minutes. All systems show green. Final checks should now be made for all cargo, containers, personal goods and passengers. Engineering, please verify availability of full power at your earliest convenience. This is the Pilot."
Jul 29, 2025 5:19 pm
[LC Rains, standing at the lower ramp of the Miss Fortune, datapad in one hand, flask tucked discreetly inside his coat, greets the grav sleds and the alien with a professional calm.]

"Well then. Birstag Foshba of Star Patterns Trading, unless I miss my guess. I’m honored. First Hiver to visit the Miss Fortune in person, and you arrive early, articulate, and freight-forward. That’s… refreshing."

[He gestures for Bronz and Tamm to guide the grav-assist sleds toward the cargo bay (the standard cargo hold. Not the hidden lockers beneath the deck plating.)]

"One dTon of advanced-tech medical apparatus. Serial-logged, standard casing, radiation-shielded. No carrier-service handling, personal delivery only — all per spec. I assume you've registered these devices as Class-Delta biomedical units, yes?"

[He watches the cargo pass the threshold into the hold, listening to the telltale hum of the med-locks cycling live, and taps the manifest pad lightly.]

"Good. That makes it ‘sensitive cargo,’ not ‘hazardous.’ Legal distinction — very important in case we hit a misaligned jump or a patrol gets fidgety."

[Then, as the name is spoken — "Admiral Count Santanocheev" — LC’s eyes narrow ever so slightly. His grip on the stylus pauses. The barest flicker of something: memory, maybe; old bruises that haven’t quite faded.]

"Ah. Admiral Count Santanocheev."

[The smile never fades. It just hardens slightly, calcifies into the sort of grin you wear when someone mentions your old prison warden at a family reunion.]

"Of course. A powerful man. One I’ve heard… many things about. Naturally, we won’t disappoint. We’ll treat this consignment with the same care I would a sabbatical pardon writ or a regency warrant."

[He clears his throat and punches the final keystrokes into the manifest.]

"Bay Three sealed. Manifest logged. Flight plan to Celepina passes well clear of any jurisdictional entanglements, and we’ll make hand-off as instructed. The 5,000 credit remittance will be due on confirmed delivery, per standing contract protocol."

[LC pivots smoothly, speaking to no one in particular — perhaps the crew, perhaps the ship, perhaps the ghosts in the back of his head.]

"Cargo’s clean. No need for hull scrub or compartmental fog. We’re not hiding it. We’re just… delivering it quietly."

[To the Hiver, a final bow of the head.]

"My thanks, Birstag. May your spirals align and your synth-node never desync."

[LC’s boots echo faintly as he strides from the bay, datapad underarm, eyes distant. He speaks low to Bronz, voice edged with something older than anger — resignation, maybe.]

"Santanocheev. Stars and filaments, I hadn’t heard that name in a while. When the Fifth kicked off, I was rotting in a Zho holding facility on Chronor, eating memory paste and listening to interrogators guess which dream was mine. Meanwhile, he was back here, fumbling half the subsector into chaos."

[He runs a hand through his hair, face unreadable.]

"His incompetence gave Norris the opening to seize initiative — and authority. he Duke saved the bloody Marches. And now? Now I’m playing postman for the man who couldn’t win a war but managed to cling to a title."

[He gives a short, humorless laugh.]

"I spent five years in a cell while Santanocheev played fleet commander with a blindfold. Now I’m delivering packages to his doorstep."

[He glances at Bronz, tone returning to dry normalcy.]

"History’s got a cruel sense of humor, mate. Let’s just hope he’s forgotten me."

[He exhales slowly, eyes scanning the void outside the hangar.]
"Well. Everyone’s got a past. Just hope this one doesn’t come knocking mid-jump."
Jul 29, 2025 5:31 pm
[LC, standing alone on the bridge, the light from the forward display casting long shadows across his coat, reads the note from Tharrok.]

[A brief pause. He doesn’t blink. Doesn’t speak. Just exhales—slow and dry—as if he’d been holding that breath since Birstag spoke the name.]

[Then he mutters, to no one in particular:]
"Well. So it wasn’t just the ghosts whispering."

[TO: T-JIVE | ENCRYPTION KEY DELTA-BRAVO-ARCHIVE]
[private="
Muns sent a note to Packratt66
"]
[/private]
Packratt66 says:
Once he finishes that little note, he goes back to his checklists. "Attention Crew," he says on the Crew Net and broadcasts over the PA Intercom in the Cargo Bay. "MISS FORTUNE is scheduled to ‘Lift’ in 1 hour and 7 minutes. All systems show green. Final checks should now be made for all cargo, containers, personal goods and passengers. Engineering, please verify availability of full power at your earliest convenience. This is the Pilot."
LC
[He closes the channel to Tharrok, straightens his jacket, and flicks the intercom to engineering:]

"Tamm, Bronz, we’ve got a 67-minute delay on lift, courtesy of T-Jive. Use the time to give the cargo Bay another scan — standard check, no red flags. But keep your eyes open for anything with old Navy tags or serial wipes. I want to make sure this medical shipment’s exactly what it says it is."
[He flips the PA open to the general crew channel:]
"Final prep phase initiated. One hour till we lift. Let’s make sure we don’t leave anything behind... including our good judgment."
Jul 29, 2025 11:51 pm
OOC:
Neglected this previously...
LOW BERTH Passengers: Said Ma and others made the rounds of low-cost lodging and also some of the 'bargain' medical care centers. With some effort they have managed to fill all 10 low-berths. Most of these passengers are people who travelled to Mora for medical procedures or genetic enhancements and are now returning to their homes on Fornice or further along the "Spinward Main". Only two are non-medical passengers; a married couple that had come to Mora on promise of jobs, jobs that turned out to be "not as advertised". They've bummed about for a time doing odd jobs as they could find them, but with their funds running out they've decided to head back to 'home', a jump or two beyond Fornice.
Jul 29, 2025 11:56 pm
Birstag Foshba (Hiver) pauses a long while, their translator/speaker unit apparently struggling with all of LC's jargon. "This shipment must go directly to the household of Admiral Count Santanocheev. No intermediaries! That is specified in contract. 5,000cr on delivery. Very important this delivered promptly. Very important. Consequences unknown for non-delivery, but this Hiver thinks "severe". Please come see me on return to Mora. Will establish good relations. Thank you."
Jul 30, 2025 8:33 pm
[LC Rains, standing just inside the bay hatch, folds his arms as Birstag finishes the slow, delivery of the translator’s final phrase. He gives the Hiver a thin-lipped smile — polite, professional, but with a faint glint of irony that never quite fades.]

[He nods once, sharply, and replies in a tone clipped enough to be crisp, but slow enough for the translator to follow.]

"Understood, Birstag Foshba. Delivery is direct, no intermediaries, no diversions. Straight to the household of Admiral Count Santanocheev. I’ll see to it personally — crate doesn’t leave this ship without my hand on the lock."

[He taps the manifest one last time, sealing it.]

"Payment on delivery: five thousand, confirmed. Prompt arrival is noted, and we’ll treat this as time-sensitive diplomatic-class freight. Not because the manifest says so, but because you do — and I’ve never known a Hiver to waste syllables on empty warnings."

[He tilts his head slightly.]

"I appreciate the trust, Birstag. If we make it back to Mora in one piece, I’ll take you up on that offer. The Miss Fortune could use more friends in the Hive, and you seem the type who knows which way the gravity flows."

[He extends a hand in the Terran gesture of goodwill — half-handshake, half-formality — knowing the Hiver won’t reciprocate, but it’s the thought that counts.]

"Consider it agreed."

[LC Rains, after confirming the terms and sealing the manifest, pauses just a heartbeat longer, gaze fixed evenly on Birstag’s central ocular cluster.]

[His voice remains steady, respectful, but there's a new edge — the kind that suggests he'd rather not wander around Fornice playing hide-and-seek with aristocracy.]

"One last detail, Birstag — just one thing. Where exactly on Fornice is the good Admiral these days? Household, compound, orbital estate? We’d prefer not to spend half a day navigating local protocol or knocking on the wrong airlock."

[He raises one eyebrow slightly, stylus poised over the delivery coordinates field.]

"Efficiency, after all, is the lubricant of trust."
Jul 30, 2025 9:52 pm
Quote:
"One last detail, Birstag — just one thing. Where exactly on Fornice is the good Admiral these days? Household, compound, orbital estate? We’d prefer not to spend half a day navigating local protocol or knocking on the wrong airlock."
The Hiver twitches in a weird wave of trembling limbs. Their translater-voice box lets out a series of high pitched beeps. Finally: "Ah, thought everyone knew! The Admiral-Count has extensive holdings, but primary residence is Castle Santanocheev. On island, big lake. North of Port-au-Prince Arcology. Have made X-boat message, so they expect. You comm. All info on contract. Fine print at bottom."
Jul 30, 2025 10:13 pm
[LC’s eyes narrow slightly, though the rest of his face stays composed — the face of a man who’s discovered a clause six layers deep in a lease agreement, right before it sets his hangar on fire.]

[He offers a half-smile, the kind that says "of course it’s in the fine print" without saying it.]


"Ah, yes. The fine print — bottom of the contract, naturally. Where all the best surprises live."

[He jots a note on his pad with a quick flick — ‘Castle Santanocheev, island estate, Lake region, north of Port-au-Prince Arcology, Fornice.’]

"Understood. We’ll make contact via local relay on approach. Message received, delivery window acknowledged. If Castle Santanocheev is expecting us, then we’ll be sure to arrive like proper guests — quietly, efficiently, and with a polite knock."

[He nods once more, closing the pad.]

"Appreciate the clarification, Birstag. You’ve been… unusually forthcoming. We’ll be on our way soon enough. Let’s all hope the good Count is in a generous mood."
Jul 31, 2025 2:45 am
Bronz listened to LC’s comments about Santanocheev without a word. His face stayed unreadable, but there was the faintest flicker, perhaps recognition or maybe even sympathy, before it vanished just as quickly as it came. He gave a small nod, nothing more.

When the discussion turned to the medical cargo, Bronz’s focus sharpened. No hesitation, no comment, just quiet movement as he stepped into the task. He'd seen enough in his past to know how things could be hidden: false panels, serials that didn’t match, or compartments rigged to look untouched.

To anyone watching, his inspection looked routine maybe expected, even. He moved with methodical calm, checking seal integrity, scanning for tampered identifiers, comparing weight distributions against manifests. But behind that casual posture was a careful mind, tracking every detail, looking for the one thing that didn’t quite fit.

Only after he was satisfied did he ease off. But he didn’t relax. As the crew continued with departure prep, Bronz kept quietly watching the passengers in particular the ones who looked too quiet, or didn’t look at all.

He’d learned a long time ago that trouble rarely started where you expected it.
Jul 31, 2025 6:01 pm
dabaggins says:
Bronz listened to LC’s comments about Santanocheev

(snipped) .....the medical cargo, Bronz’s focus sharpened. No hesitation, no comment, just quiet movement as he stepped into the task. He'd seen enough in his past to know how things could be hidden: false panels, serials that didn’t match, or compartments rigged to look untouched.

To anyone watching, his inspection looked routine maybe expected, even. He moved with methodical calm, checking seal integrity, scanning for tampered identifiers, comparing weight distributions against manifests. But behind that casual posture was a careful mind, tracking every detail, looking for the one thing that didn’t quite fit.

Only after he was satisfied did he ease off. But he didn’t relax. As the crew continued with departure prep, Bronz kept quietly watching the passengers in particular the ones who looked too quiet, or didn’t look at all.

He’d learned a long time ago that trouble rarely started where you expected it.
This is a very difficult task without using advanced sensor equipment. Well, not difficult for the types of 'hides' that Bronz appears to be thinking of. But something seriously hidden with sensor shielding at tech-15+, well that would take equipment unavailable to the likes of MISS FORTUNE.
OOC:
dice roll provided just on the off chance..... Bronz gets +1 for Int and +1 for his background/experience. But the target number is greater than '8', and unknown. This could be something beyond his experience, if there is something there at all!

Rolls

Bronz looking for anything 'hinky' - (2d6+2)

(26) + 2 = 10

Jul 31, 2025 6:02 pm
Bronz feels there may be something weird about this. A hunch, nothing specific. But nothing substantial enough to reject the shipment? No definite evidence.
Jul 31, 2025 11:38 pm
Bronz scanned the cargo with a practiced eye. Nothing stood out but that was the problem. It looked too clean. Too perfect. He’d seen smugglers go to great lengths to make something look unremarkable. Tech could mask a lot but not everything. Not wear patterns. Not weight distribution. Not instinct.

After another slow pass, he made his way over to LC. He waited until they were out of earshot, his tone low, his posture casual enough to pass for small talk.

"They’re hiding something," he murmured, eyes still on the cargo. "Don’t know what. We don’t have the sensors to figure it out but it’s there. Too neat, too right. That ain’t natural."

He glanced at LC, his voice quiet and steady. "Your call if we play dumb like the rest, or…" He paused, then added, "…well, not sure what that ‘or’ looks like yet."
Aug 1, 2025 6:55 pm
[LC listens to Bronz without interruption. One foot propped on a cargo strut, his coat hanging open like he doesn’t have a care in the world. But behind the eyes? Full courtroom cross-examination mode.]

LC smiles and waves at the Hiver party as they depart the Miss Fortune.

[He glances at the crate — pristine, regulation-fitted, registered down to the molecule. And yet.]

"That’s the thing about perfect lies, Bronz," he says, voice soft. "They leave no fingerprints… but they also leave no dust."

[He straightens up, tapping his stylus against his datapad idly — almost casually, like a man tallying wine taxes instead of evaluating potential diplomatic munitions.]

"You’re right. If there’s something hidden inside, we’re not equipped to crack it without peeling this thing like a ration tin, and we don’t have the authority or the leverage to explain that away if it turns out to be what it claims."

[He eyes the serial again, muttering:]
"Medical tech, declared from a Hiver, that is way on the other side of Space from where they are found. This kit going straight to Santanocheev’s doorstep with no handlers and a smiling translator puppet. And we’re meant to not notice the perfect packaging?"

[He looks to Bronz, deadpan.]
"Let’s not kid ourselves. This isn’t our first smokescreen. But we’ve got no proof. No anomaly to flag. Nothing that lets us reject it without landing a counterclaim for contract interference — or worse, obstruction under diplomatic shadow."

[He flicks the datapad closed with a sharp snap.]

"Here’s what we do. We log it exactly as received: perfect casing, standard mass, no irregularities visible to non-invasive scan. And we ride this crate to Fornice like it's made of kittens and holy writ."

[He leans in, just slightly, voice lower still.]

"But the moment something smells wrong — power flicker, escort reroute, orbital chatter spike — we prep an emergency jettison tag on that bay. Quiet. Fast. Denied knowledge."

[Then, with that dry grin creeping in:]
"Until then, we play dumb. The professional kind. The kind you get paid well for."

[LC looks at Bronz]
"I am pretty sure that anything done to the package Birstag will know about it. I suspect so will Santanocheev. But I prefer this piece of cargo near one of the cargo bay doors. So make it happen and treat this 'package' with care."

LC taps out a message on his datapad and with a finger flick sends it out to the crew.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Internal ShipNet Message — Crew Broadcast | Origin: LC Rains | Priority: Amber]

Subject:
Protocol Notice — Item REDBIRD

All crew,

Be advised: one cargo unit currently stowed in Bay Three, forward starboard, is now designated Item REDBIRD.

REDBIRD is part of a direct diplomatic shipment from a Hiver merchant to a high-ranking client on Fornice. The terms of the cargo contract specify no inspection, tampering, or handling beyond standard loading protocol. Do not scan, move, or interact with the unit unless explicitly ordered.

If you see anything unusual — temperature shifts, humming, blinking, odors, blinking that shouldn't be blinking, crew near it who shouldn’t be — flag it immediately on the ship-wide channel using the phrase:

"Redbird sings."

That will trigger an automatic crew-wide ping and lock down the surrounding area until I or Bronz issue override clearance.

Again, do not interact with REDBIRD. Watch it, respect it, and don’t trust it.

— L.C. Rains, Esq.
Captain (reluctantly)
Free Trader Miss Fortune
Aug 3, 2025 4:59 pm
playbydave says:
https://i.imgur.com/Wr5KYCD.jpeg

The sophont with the 'artificial voice' arrives a few hours prior to MISS FORTUNE's departure. "Birstag Foshba" turns out to be a very strange alien indeed, a HIVER! They are accompanied by four human laborers pulling grav-assist sleds with the 1 dTon of advanced-tech medical devices. "As you require, I have come to person you and visit one to one. Freight-cargo is ready for load.

"I glad to meet you.

"Goods very important and for very important man. Admiral Count Santanocheev have much influence. You must never dissapoint him! Personal delivery, no carrier-service or other handling. Admiral's staff handle all customs so never mind no difficulty for you. Will pay 5,000cr when goods turned over. You very good for taking this shipment! Always come see me for best advanced med gear!"
"Tamm will see to the delivery personally," Tamm assures the Hiver. With some help from our resident Noble, hopefully," Tamm says to himself."

Tamm also takes care of stowing the cargo, too.
Aug 3, 2025 5:05 pm
OOC:
I know there was some mention of Miss Fortune's stated cargo capacity. This post might be too late but, I'd suggest refiling the cargo capacity to 56 dton (?) or whatever tonnage doesn't include our hidden capacity. I don't know about the ins & outs of rationalizing the change in capacity (if necessary) so I'll leave that to people who know how to work the system.
Aug 3, 2025 9:10 pm
LloganTamm says:
OOC:
I know there was some mention of Miss Fortune's stated cargo capacity. This post might be too late but, I'd suggest refiling the cargo capacity to 56 dton (?) or whatever tonnage doesn't include our hidden capacity. I don't know about the ins & outs of rationalizing the change in capacity (if necessary) so I'll leave that to people who know how to work the system.
OOC:
My understanding is that the ship's capacity was officialy listed at 61 dTons, 56 of regular cargo hold and 5 tons of 'extra' in hollows below the deck. You can still hide things in there, but a very astute and suspiscious Customs Agent might figure it out fairly easily.
Additionally: The one-dTon of "medical supplies" shipped as 'special freight' is not a single large crate but several smaller containers. It was brought on four grav-lifters, so you should be aware that it is in 4 1/4 ton containers.

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