How Hard Could This Be?

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Dec 3, 2025 3:27 am
Kayla continues to fly the 'truck' at a safe altitude. Now in a straight course towards to border of the Santanocheev lands.

The jamming suddenly stops. Within seconds the comms lights up with a priority call:

"Grav Vehicle (insert serial number here), you have entered a restricted area. This is Lieutenant Pournaldi of the 3177th Lancers, Santanocheev's Own.

"Are you making a delivery from the Trader "Miss Fortune"? Please identify yourselves. We have detected unusual EM emissions from this sector. Are you all right? Is the cargo intact?"
Dec 3, 2025 3:40 am
Bronz turns back towards where they had come from to see if they are still being followed. So, this wasn't expected - interesting. He turns back towards LC and waits for the call to end. Perhaps this cargo is worth more than they were told? Did they ask enough for it?
Dec 3, 2025 3:52 am
LC leans forward on the passenger seat’s edge as the cockpit lights flicker with the revived comm link. He taps the "reply" icon slowly, voice calm when he speaks into the open channel.

"Lieutenant Pournaldi — this is Captain Rains. Affirmative on all counts. We are indeed the delivery from Miss Fortune, en route to the estate under contract with Santanocheev Medical."

"Cargo is intact, secure, and sealed per delivery instructions. All external checks confirm the crate and contents passed automated integrity scans at hop‑off."

"Passengers and crew are in good order — no injuries, no leaks, no unexpected guests hitching a ride behind the seat cushions."

He pauses, tone shifting just slightly — polite, but edged with concern beneath the formality.

"On that note, Lieutenant — we experienced what we believe was a pursuit, shortly after the comms drop. A single grav‑speeder, last seen at range, high‑speed, descended through the fog trying to intercept us. Blew past water‑logged trees, nearly at treetop level. We don’t know who they were, or what they wanted."

"Are there any mounted Lancer patrols currently deployed in sector — perhaps other grav or speeder units active north of the Ag‑lands border? We’d like confirmation that this was not your detail, and request safe‑passage instructions if there are active security sweeps ongoing. We’d rather deliver this crate with paperwork and payment, not wreck‑metal and missing parts."

He leans back, expression neutral but serious, lowering his voice slightly so only the comm channel carries his words.

"We’re moments out from what your nav‑feed labeled ‘courier approach.’ Once we’ve got coordinates, we’ll comply with all landing protocols. We appreciate the vigilance, Lieutenant — nothing about this route screams ‘smooth delivery.’ But if we get there in one piece and with coins in our vault, you won’t have to file a report about missing cargo."

He taps the console to end the transmission, looking over at Kayla without breaking eye contact — a silent nod that says: stay ready, stay sharp.

"Let’s get this over with."
Dec 4, 2025 2:34 am
Bronz sits watching the rain, listening to the storm drown out everything but the hum of the grav modules. The chase, the jamming, it all feels too familiar.

He finally turns toward LC, expression unreadable in the dim light. "We just dropping the cargo and taking the money?"

A beat. His gaze shifts back to the horizon, voice low. "We signing up for this kind of run again?"
Dec 4, 2025 2:55 am
LC Rains
LC watches the treeline slide past under the mist, the hum of the grav modules steady as a heartbeat. Bronz’s question hangs in the cabin like a bad smell from a malfunctioning recycler.

"Dropping the cargo and taking the money? Yes. Absolutely yes. With the enthusiasm of a man tossing a live grenade back to the person who pulled the pin."

He shifts in the seat, brushing rain off his sleeve with theatrical annoyance.

"As for signing up for this sort of run again…"

LC turns his head just enough to meet Bronz’s eyes, expression perfectly deadpan.

"Not unless the payment includes a new ship, a new identity, and a pleasant retirement on a beach where nobody has ever heard of psionics, nobles, or ‘no‑intermediaries’ delivery instructions."

A beat. He nods toward the horizon.

"Next time someone offers us a job wrapped in mystery, secrecy, and the faint aroma of political assassination, I propose we smile politely, back away slowly, and run like hell. Preferably before they finish the sentence."

He exhales through his nose, the trace of a smirk appearing.

"So no, Bronz. We are not making a habit of this. Once is misfortune. Twice is stupidity. Three times is how you end up a cautionary tale told in starport lounges."
Dec 5, 2025 10:25 pm
The rain continues to come down in buckets, and Bronz's attempt to get 'visual' on the hostile 'Speeder' comes up empty.

With the jamming stopped, the Grav-Truck's short-range sensors don't show anything behind either.

While Kayla grips the steering control with almost white-knuckle intensity, LC is on comm with a "Lieutenant Pournaldi" of the 3177th Lancers.

While LC describes the hostile encounter, Lt. Pournaldi responds: "Unexpected! Well, we'll try to get to the bottom of this. Wait one!"

A couple of minutes pass. Then a big armored grav-car, a Recon vehicle, comes into view off the front port quarter, (10-o'clock). "Please fall in behind the Scout Car, Mister Rains. We will lead you to a secure facility where you may transfer your cargo to the Santanocheev Medical Department.

Two more Scout Cars scream by overhead, leaving vapor trails through the rain, headed along the Grav-Truck's back-route.

On comm, Lt. Pournaldi says. "We're back-tracking. Technically out of our jurisdiction, but, well, this is a potential problem for us now, isn't it?

"If you have any information to help us, please inform us now. Thank you."
Dec 5, 2025 10:29 pm
Kayla doesn't say anything, but steers in behind Lt Pournaldi's Scout Car. The pair of vehicles plow on ahead through the rain.

Then comms light up again. Grav Truck and personal devices. It's on Miss Fortune's frequency. It's THARROK... He's in the ship's air-raft, preparing to depart for a 'rescue mission'.....
Dec 6, 2025 12:48 am
LC Rains – En Route to Santanocheev Estate | April 1, 1115 |

The rain lashes across the grav-truck’s canopy like a vindictive god shaking a tin roof. Visibility drops, then rises again in gusts of wind-driven mist. LC watches the console flicker as comms come to life — again — with Lieutenant Pournaldi's crisp, professional voice.

"Unexpected," he says. "We’ll try to get to the bottom of this."

LC exhales through his nose, toggles the comm, and responds with a voice smoothed to polite professionalism and lightly lacquered with dry sarcasm.

"Much appreciated, Lieutenant. ‘Unexpected’ is certainly one word for it. I had another in mind — but this is a family channel."

As the recon vehicle swings into view ahead, LC sees the vapor trails of its two siblings streaking past overhead. He doesn’t flinch. He does, however, flick his eyes toward Kayla.

"Kayla, let’s do what the good Lieutenant says. Follow them in. With any luck, they’ll lead us somewhere warm, dry, and distinctly free of people trying to kill us."

He taps his hand-terminal, syncing visuals and logs for transmission.

"Lieutenant, I’ll relay everything we have on the speeder — visual, sensor readouts, and the moment it dropped off our boards. I’m sure your people will find the puzzle... enlightening."

As the grav-truck hums along behind the recon lead, LC’s terminal chirps again — shipboard frequency. A familiar voice breaks through.

[comm: THARROK | MISS FORTUNE]
"…preparing to depart for a ‘rescue mission’…"

LC flicks his comms back open, voice dry as a recycled air scrubber in high summer.

"Miss Fortune, this is Rains. Tharrok — appreciate the initiative, but cancel the cavalry. We’ve got escort now. If something goes wrong, we’ll let you know."

A beat. LC adds, under his breath, but still keyed to shipboard open channel…

"I mean really, what could possibly go wrong?"

He closes the channel with a calm he doesn’t quite feel and watches the storm-churned clouds ahead as they’re led deeper into the estate’s lands.

EDIT - LC does send the current coordinates of the grav-truck as it speeds to the Estate. Continuously sending the location.
Last edited December 6, 2025 5:44 pm
Dec 8, 2025 8:07 pm
The rain continues to pelt down, but Kayla stays close behind the armored Scout Car. Lt Pournaldi has his vehicle gradually descend, a course theat Kayla mimics closely. After a short time instruments show that they've reached a shoreline; probably the big lake where Castle Santanocheev is located. But Pournaldi's car doesn't head out over open water but hugs the shoreline.

"We are coming up on a landing ground. Please continue to follow."

The Scout Car turns into a narrow bay staying close to the water. At the end of the bay there is a clearing where a half dozen armored grav-vehicles sit in revetments. The Scout Car lands close by the jungle-vegetation about as far from the lake as can be found. Kayla lands a few meters to one side of the car...

Soldiers in full kit, including laser-carbines, exit the 'car' and move towards the rented Grav-Truck. Not in a menacing or even particularly military fashion, but purposefully.

"We wish you to proceed into the hangar ahead, please. At walking pace."

The "jungle" ahead starts to 'open', and in a moment its seen that behind the excellent camouflage is a large opening and a ramp leading gradually downwards. Dim greenish lights on the 'deck' of the hangar flash in sequence; a clear guide to follow.

"You will loose your comm-links once the door closes behind you. Please inform your ship that you will be all right."
Dec 8, 2025 9:54 pm
To Lt. Pournaldi (on comm)

"Lieutenant, Captain Rains here. Understood. We’ll follow your lead — at walking pace, as you request."

"But since we’re already wet, muddy, and parked just a few meters from your shiny hangar door — may I ask: why the scenic tunnel tour? Could the crate not be handed off here by the lake? I’d rather not shuffle into what looks an awful lot like a noble’s good taste crossed with a trapdoor."

"Still — your call. We won’t turn tail unless someone pulls a STOP switch on the sky. The goods are secure, and we’re ready to comply."

To the Miss Fortune Crew (encrypted / secure channel)

"Team — we’ve been escorted to a secure site for delivery. The Lancer’s men will disarm comms once we pass into the hangar. I don’t like the look of it any more than you do. But we walk in calm, carry the crate sealed, smile polite, and expect nothing more than a handshake and credits. If we don’t check back out in… say thirty minutes, assume things went sideways. Then we improvise."

"Tharrok, hold position. Stay ready. In case we eject hard and fast. I’ll alert when package transfers and we’re clear. Until then — cross fingers, and hope our "client" likes punctual, quiet deliveries."

LC specifically sends a location pin to the ship.

LC tries to see if anyone is dressed in slick black and shiney battledress is way in the back of said Hanger
Dec 9, 2025 12:37 am
With a nod to LC that he was ready to go, Bronz’s gaze swept the landing site in slow, practiced arcs. Taking in the soldiers, the scout cars, the dark mouth of the camouflaged hangar ahead.

He’d seen this kind of setup before, years ago, when "deliveries" were just another word for ambushes waiting to happen. Everyone played it calm, all easy smiles and polite orders, right up until someone twitched the wrong way.

It felt the same now: balanced on a razor’s edge.

Without a weapon, there wasn’t much he could do if things went bad. But awareness was its own armor. So he kept quiet, hands still, expression neutral. Just another hired spacer playing his part and not an ex-pirate cataloguing exits, body language, and who was pretending not to stare at their cargo.

If this turned sideways, he wanted to see it coming a heartbeat before anyone else did.
Jan 5, 2026 12:42 am
"Lieutenant, Captain Rains, are you still there?"

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