>>3607618
>Bug Eddy for details on the contact

>>3607618

>Bug Eddy for details on the contact

Praise the Six for they're back

The Dark Gods approve

>>3607618
>Bug Eddy for details on the contact

>>3607832
>>3607670
>>3607743

You lean over in the passenger's seat, glancing at the papercopy of the digital journal. You're a smart guy, but many of the ten dollar words shoved into the wall of text the Doc is reading from makes your head spin. You can't tell if its an article on human anatomy or some alien species if its even about a living thing at all. Medical jargon is infinitely worse than the military's copious use of acronyms in your opinion. But then again, you're just some rogue rifleman with a couple of leadership skills polished up.

"So Eddy," You cut through the occasional sound of superheated air discharged by your lizard man's rifle, "Who are we keeping an eye out for? Anyone we know this time?"

"As far as I'm aware, yes. It'll be my boy." He responds with a certain matter-of-fact dispassion that only a doctor can give. You have a vague recollection of Eddy's son and wife. You met them maybe a couple of times back before the Massacre. Percy is about 7 years your junior as you remember and had a job with the post office as a mail courier for one of Main Port's many neighborhoods. He was pretty tricky with a hover bike, as you recall him showboating in the Garrison's civilian parking lot after an argument with his old man. Makes sense he'd join up with the resistance.

"You don't sound to happy about it." You quip back.

"Well, it is what it is. If I could have had my way, Percy would still be delivering letters and be as far away from what we're about to do, but my boy's always had this rebellious streak, so I should just be grateful he's running packages and guiding cells to Main rather than out somewhere with a laser beam burned through his gut." Eddy coughs and flips the page of the journal.

Eddy's a hard man to read sometimes, you figure that comes with the age and medical license, but you can tell he's worried. Another sizzle of Torossk's gun and the squeal of a murdered rat fills up a tense silence.

>Grill Eddy for details on the Main Port cell
>Get in some quick target practice before Percy shows up.
>Turn on some tunes and catch a bit of Crown-approved news
>A little shuteye makes the time fly (skip to Percy arriving)

>>3607946
>Get in some quick target practice before Percy shows up.

>>3607946
>Get in some quick target practice before Percy shows up.

>>3607946
>Get in some quick target practice before Percy shows up.

>>3607948
>>3607982
>>3608072

"Well I'll leave you to your magazine." You dismiss yourself from Eddy's presence and the truck cab. When your boots hit the sand, you see how much of a shooting gallery the sewage pipe really is. A good seven Fall rats lay scattered around the cheap metal grate covering the entrance.

"Well, damn, Torossk." You announce yourself as you make your way around the truck to where the Thelusan is aiming from. "You keep this up and you'll wipe out the whole species."

"And good riddance. Nothing but a bunch of Scale Rot carriers anyway." He shoots again, ripping one of the rat corpses asunder with a splash of gore on the metal. "You come out here to shoot the shit or to shoot shit?"

"Both." You grin and pick up your own rifle.

You shoulder the gun and flip the safety as you aim down the sight, in your case a holosight, at the squirming vermin infesting the sewer. In a burst of light and hot air, you cream a few of the creatures with horrified squeaks. It really calms your heart to do such a meaningful service for your government, you think to yourself sardonically.

"You remember Percy?" You start off as Torossk takes a turn at the garbage oozing out into a sludgey puddle. He turns his head at the name.

"Oh yeah I remember him. Eddy's kid. Little hellion really tried to stick it to he man right when things started getting bad. Him and me had more than a few chats with his dad present."

"Really now? Well, he's our guide on into Main."

"Ah fuck." Torossk's shot goes wide and a rat skitters back into the sewer. "I doubt he gonna be gracious about it." He sighs loudly. "At least he's finally got a worthwhile outlet for all that energy."

You see a big rat pop its ugly head out of the metal grating. With a grin on your face, you take aim.

>Roll me 3d100s

Rolled 9 (1d100)

>>3608131

Here we go

Rolled 85 (1d100)

>>3608131

Rolled 62 (1d100)

>>3608131

>>3608261
>>3608743
>>3608979
Writing

>>3609081
Your rifle lets loose a trio of blasts. The first one is wild and above the fat rat, missing entirely, but you quickly zero in for the second beam. It connects solidly with the body of the rat knocking it down and most likely being a mortal blow. But just to be sure, the final bolt rips the side of its chest cavity open in a shower of singed flesh, bone and blood.

"Good shot." Torossk compliments as he replaces the battery charge in gun before putting in the back of the truck. "Sure as hell showed them a thing or two."

"Well, stay around long enough and you even learn something." You quip back.

"I don't think I need any pointers on rat slaying, chief, so I'll leave that to you." There's a sound of something splashing through the thin slurry of sewage in the pipe some distance away. You and Torossk are fairly certain your contact is nearly here... but there's always a chance you've been compromised.

You look at each other and Torossk gets in the back with his gun, peeking over the top of the truck cab.

>Put away your gun and wait in the cab with Eddy.
>Keep your gun just in case, with the truck door open as a shield.
>Aim your rifle at the entrance, ready to fire, from behind the open truck door
>Do the same as above but from a stable, prone position.

>>3609159

>Keep your gun just in case, with the truck door open as a shield.

>>3609208
Supporting

>>3609159
>>Keep your gun just in case, with the truck door open as a shield.

>>3609159
>Keep your gun just in case, with the truck door open as a shield.

File: hover bike.jpg (31 KB, 736x345)

31 KB JPG

>>3609208
>>3609532
>>3609686
>>3610079

You haven't stayed alive so far by just ignoring your gut. A little paranoia goes a long way for a resistance cell like yours, so you keep your gun ready, though not aimed at the sewers, and place yourself behind the the passenger's side door to the cab as an impromptu shield should your be proven right.

But it turns out to be one of the few times where your instincts are wrong. From out of the the sewer, you see a hover bike rumble to a stop on its side of the. A man in a rust-colored biker suit removes his helmet as he steps off his stubby machine.

"Wassup?" You recognize the distinct features of an O'Quinn and smile.

"Long time, no see Percy." You half-laugh as you stow your rifle away. You hear the truck shift as Torossk move around. "Hope you came here to do more than just gawk at us from that side of the pipe."

"Oh yeah, no problem." He leans over his bike and presses a button. The cheap metal covering the bottom half of the massive pipe that prevented the truck from entering slowly lowers itself to the ground like a drawbridge over the sewer muck.

"Much obliged, son." Eddy sticks his head out the window and puts the truck into gear. You go ahead and step in and close the door. There'll be plenty of time to talk with the young man when you get back to the base.

The tunnels are dark, but thankfully the truck's headlights are in perfect functioning condition, as are Percy's lights. You can hear the grate close up behind you again as the boy on the bike leads you through the winding maze.

>See if the short-range comm can connect with Percy
>Ask Torossk about what amazing new smells he's discovering out there
>Ask Eddy about Main Port cell
>See if you can pick up the regular radio down here.

>>3610131
>>See if you can pick up the regular radio down here.
Passive observation first, active might alert any watchers

>>3610131
>See if you can pick up the regular radio down here.

>>3610131
>See if you can pick up the regular radio down here.

>>3611231
>>3611424
>>3611535

The path is long, winding and -unfortunately for you- utterly boring. Percy is racing along as his father is doing his best behind the wheel to keep up with the faster and more agile vehicle on the sloped maze that makes up the sewer system. Eddy is softly cursing at his son for a plethora of things, you can only make out complaints about reckless driving and not realizing the top speed of the truck is significantly less than his souped-up bike.

You don't dare open the window to try to make fun of Torossk being in the smelliest seat in the truck or else you'll subject yourself to his fate. Looking back, you can see him choking back vomit from the odors racing past his nose. You feel bad for him, but not enough to suffer with him.

So you do what you normally do to deal with the dead air: crank up the tunes! Or check the news, it really depends on what's on the menu for the state-controlled media services. More than that, though, you're curious on if the radio waves can even reach you down in the tunnels. If not, your cell has a small stockpile of "contraband" you liberated from the garrison before you left it for good. Maybe not all of them were contraband, but anything that pisses off the stationed crownsmen is a delight.

You push the knob in activating the radio and get a hiss of static before you start fiddling with the dial to try to find a clear station.

"A... ker... che... Ult..."

Still static. You're not all that surprised. You're under at least a mile of rock and metal, after all. Instead you put in a small thumb drive and switch the radio into media reading mode.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fyHXlE9Z3m8

Goddamned do you enjoy the classics from Earth.

With some music pounding away even a little of the tedium of the trip, things begin to pass by with more speed. Before you know it, the four of you are out of the sewers and into a waste 'treatment' facility. The thing is mostly populated by mindless robot shells built for their specific purposes and the smell works well to hide activity away from most prying eyes. An excellent smoke screen for a secret entrance into the city.

With the worst smells out of the way, Torossk opens the small window on the back of the truck cab.

"You two better be fucking grateful I didn't open this during the ride up."

"And we are, Torossk. Thank you." Eddy responds dryly.

"What he said." You copy his halfhearted thanks, but with more unambiguous glib in your voice..

Percy rounds his way to his father's window and prompts the old man to roll it down.

"Almost there.This week's safehouse isn't far. Stay close and be cool. Garrison's been awfully uptight recently. So much as breathe wrong and its all eyes on you." The younger man grumbles. You have to stifle a laugh at how similarly they two of them sound when they have something to complain about.

>Keep playing your music.
>Switch to State-approved radio
>Turn it off

>>3611891
>>Turn it off

>>3611891
>Turn it off

>>3611891
>Turn it off

>>3611891
>Turn it off

File: hideout.jpg (213 KB, 1440x751)

213 KB JPG

>>3611908
>>3611926
>>3611943
>>3612399

Your lips flutter as you make a disapproving noise while shutting down the radio. Nothing like the Crown to disrupt a harmless good time. Bunch of spoilsports. You joined up to help cut down on violence when the tensions started to get heated, but before that you were always more inclined to take things easy; out to enjoy yourself to spite the planet you were raised on.

The streets are far more vacant than you remember as your two-vehicle caravan moves through Main Port. The pedestrians you do see are walking with purpose and a certain fire under them making them hurry along. You see Crownsguard in their very distinct uniforms loitering like hoodlums on street corners snickering to themselves and pointing at certain civilians. You start flashing back to the Massacre...

You remember some of those faces, but mostly the uniforms under polished silver-white armor leveling beam rifles at the gathered mob. You remember the Crownsguard officer in charge with his knobby nose and pompous-looking mustache waxed to a shine that rivaled his armor. You remember telling him to shove it up his ass only a few seconds before the rest of the garrison fired. You, Eddy, Torossk, Jayce and Chelsea were taken away as civilians scattered in fear or clung to the dead and dying.

"Riv? Riv you alright?" Eddy's concern pushes its way through the fog. His eyes are filled with a knowing concern. "You okay?"

"I'm fine. Juuust peachy." You don't think he buys your assurances.

"If you want to talk about it, I'm always here." Eddy's hand rests gently on your shoulder.

There's no time to answer, though, as you reach your destination: You're back in the industrial zone, but now at a manufacturing plant for glass bottles. Percy rolls to a stop in front of what looks like a rarely used maintenance shed. He dismounts and knocks on the sheet metal sidings in a distinct pattern and then whistling a tune.

The side of the shed opens up like a garage door and Percy ushers the truck inside, following behind on his bike. A corridor leads down under the shed itself and into a hidden, secondary factory floor. Its windows have the yellow light of sundown streaming through grime and onto a mess of wires, cables, paper, and a massive, unusually pristine rug.

Further down, you see a computer with a wall-sized screen displaying new feeds from across the sector along side a medical chart. Three secondary screens have data scrolling past, but its moving too fast for you to read.

"Welcome to the Main cell, gentlemen." A old voice creaks out as a chair in front of the computer swings around revealing an old woman with a warm smile surrounded by her wrinkles. "I'm sure this trip has been draining on you. There's plenty of time, so please go ahead and take a rest. Freshen up, if you'd like. You, too, Percy, dear."

>Take her up on the offer.
>Decline, lets get to brass tacks before anything happens.
>Ask her some questions first. (Write in)

>>3613594
>>Decline, lets get to brass tacks before anything happens.
Make sure the delivery was correct, and that they confirm receiving it, then go and get something to drink and eat

>>3613594

>Decline, lets get to brass tacks before anything happens.

>>3613594
>Decline, lets get to brass tacks before anything happens.

>>3613609
>>3613666
>>3614088

"If its all the same to you, I'd like to get to brass tacks before we miss our window." You speak up. "I'm sure your crew is also tracking the weapons shipment. We've only got a short time from the handshake to rob it without alerting the escort or the garrison immediately."

"True, true." The old woman nods her head. "I'll page our pilot." She turns around again and taps a few keys on the monitor before turning back to you. "She'll be here shortly. Now then I have something to ask you."

"Oh boy..." Eddy grumbles.

"Don't be like that, Edward." The woman snips. "You haven't even heard what I need done!"

"Marco, Torossk, let me actually introduce this woman. This is Doctor Phyllis Reed. Professor of Neuroscience at the Freefall Planetary University, and widely considered one of the foremost minds on, well, minds." Eddy motions at her, and she waves meekly at her introduction.

"That's far too much flattery from you, Edward."

"She was one of my professors for my medical degree back in the day." He adds on.

"You're getting me off track, Edward. Stop it." She chastises him, but turns back to you and Torossk with a beaming smile. "Yes, well, I am also the communications officer for the Main Port cell as well. Its been keeping my retirement quite busy. Anyway, what I was going to ask you was to help me get in contact with the larger rebellion."

"Wait... there's a larger rebellion? Like... an actual, organized insurgence?" Torossk asks incredulously.

"If the Crown has been this level of awful consistently across the sector, then its more than possible others have had the same ideas we had. Hell, they might even have to tools to actually do something more than cause disruptions for the local regiments." You posit. Torossk nods in agreement.

You look at the large screen and one of the windows has a picture of a massive space cruiser traveling the stars with other, smaller star ships. The caption reads, "Rebel Armada more dangerous than imagined?"

You hope that's true. The Crown Prince can't just shut them up if they're more dangerous than they expected. You smile at the thought.

"So what do you want us to do?" You ask. Phyllis smiles.

"Dears, I need you to launch a satellite beacon for me. Well... I say 'launch' but really its more like, throwing it out the window while you're in orbit." She laughs politely at the absurdity of her own statement. "In it, I have a message for the Rebellion."

>"I'm not shoving a message in a bottle out into space without knowing what's written. What's the message?"
>"I think we can do that. We can just jettison it out while we breach the delivery ship."
>"That sounds like a security risk. I'm not about to risk everything we're doing here just to say hello."
>Other? [Write in]
>

>>3615947
>"That sounds like a security risk. I'm not about to risk everything we're doing here just to say hello."

>>3615947

>"That sounds like a security risk. I'm not about to risk everything we're doing here just to say hello."

>>3615947
>>"That sounds like a security risk. I'm not about to risk everything we're doing here just to say hello."

>>3616634
>>3616648
>>3617933

You frown and furrow your brow.

"That sounds like one helluva security risk and we're already pushing things with the heist by even getting in contact with you guys, but you want us to then shove a tin can into orbit screaming whatever it is you want to say out to the high heavens where everyone and their mothers can hear it? I say no." You fold your arms.

Phyllis gives you that look you can only get from disappointed old ladies, but you stand firm. No amount of little old lady guilt tripping will make you change your stance on OpSec.

"Oh please reconsider! If we can establish contact with the larger rebellion, we can do more than just stay in this holding pattern. We're in a war of attrition right now and to be honest, we're not winning it. How often have you had to go days without food or subsist on what little you can hunt in the wastes? Do you think that's a problem for Crown garrison? No! They've got a supply chain that we're not equipped to sever! I know its a risk, but its a risk worth taking!"

With her little speech over, you fold your arms. Torossk doesn't look as sure as you.

"If there's a chance we can get some real firepower down here and throw off the Crown..." He leaves his sentence open.

"I'm with Marco on this one." Eddy pats your shoulder again. "Its our war. What's to say this bigger rebellion isn't just going to be a worse dictator than Max is going to be? There's a lot of assumptions being made here and I'm not all that comfortable with them."

"We made a lot of assumptions when we decided to fight back, didn't we? We've all made gambles. And this is one that could tip the scales in our favor." Phyllis makes her plea again. "Besides, you're not even getting on this mission without us. I don't want to do this, but reaching out is too important to just rule out. The rebel fleet is at its closest now as its ever been! The Massacre may have been the trigger for the rebellion, but we're a backwater! The real fighting and the real differences are being made elsewhere!"

You grit your teeth at having her pull this. Effectively holding the mission hostage.

>Leave it up to a vote, contacting your cell.
>Leave it up to a vote with only present members of the heist.
>Agree, but on the condition this message doesn't give away your resistance's position.
>Agree, but on the condition everyone is made aware of what's being conveyed to the rebels
>Hold your ground, you can pilot the ship.
>Hold your ground, Chels can still pilot the ship.

>>3619006
>>Agree, but on the condition this message doesn't give away your resistance's position.
And they wait to relay the message till it's difficult to pinpoint the place the satellite was dropped off in orbit, so it won't be easily tracked to their launch.

>>3619034
Supporting

>>3619034
>>3619101
I'd like one more before continuing on, but I think that's all I'm getting this round

>>3621753
>>3619101
>>3619034
Lurking and reading lad

>>3621753

You pinch the bridge of your nose.

"Fine. Fine, we'll launch your tin can." You quickly switch to pointing sternly at the old woman. "On the conditions that the message is on a timer and doesn't mention our coordinates. Gives us a chance finish robbing the shipment without having to dodge more laser fire than we have to and don't have to worry about garrison knocking on our doors."

"I can agree to those." Phyllis returns your stern gaze. For a frail old lady, she still has quite the large fire still in her eyes. "I'll adjust satellite. All that's left for you is getting Blake back in a pilot's seat."

As if on cue, a tall. thin woman around your age strides in. You're certain she's from a high society family. Her expensive-looking and sleek clothing is nearly spotless and she carries herself with a careful, practiced grace.

"What did you need, professor? Who are they?" Her questions carry a foreign twinge to them. She's clearly Offworld. You narrow your eyes. Offworlders rarely prosper long on Freefall and the Massacre put and even larger strain on that relationship. You have to remind yourself she's on your side if she's in Main Port's cell.

"Blake, dear, these are three members of the Dust Bowl cell." Phyllis tells her. 'Blake' wrinkles her nose at that, as if the words carried a stench. "They've come here looking for a pilot with a Space Cert."

"Boys, this is Blake Driscol. She's a student of mine as well as novelist." Phyllis introduces her. Blake gives a short bow.

"Its good to make your acquaintance. Thank you for your efforts in fighting tyranny." Blake responds and offers a hand in the direction of all three of you.

>Give her a half-hearted handshake. You're not a fan of offworlders and this deal is constantly finding ways to put a bad taste in your mouth.
>Give her a firm handshake with eye contact. You might not like offworlders, but we're all fighting a common enemy... plus you really need a pilot.
>Skip the pleasantries and ask her what it'll take to get her to pilot for the heist.

>>3621963
>>Give her a firm handshake with eye contact. You might not like offworlders, but we're all fighting a common enemy... plus you really need a pilot.

Desperate times calls for desperate pleasantries.

>>3621963
>Give her a firm handshake with eye contact. You might not like offworlders, but we're all fighting a common enemy... plus you really need a pilot.

>>3622008
>>3622021
This

>Maximilian Tyrssi

>Blake Driscol

rolling for distant relatives / Driscol forgotten-revered imperial bloodline

Taking a break for the holiday weekend

If the thread still updates when I come back, I pick up here. If not, I'll see you in a new thread.