You rise to your feet and make your way to the washroom. This place isnt like one of the pleasure palaces on Nueva Los Vegas, but what is? Its decent enough. You turn on the sink, look in the mirror, and see...

> A fresh faced young man, slightly nerdy with eyeglasses. Rais' world had been your first assignment. Nothing was expected, but your daily coverage of the growing famine and the fault of the corporate giants of Starcom controlled space in exacerbating it has given you a fresh reputation, and some dangerous foes. You have a full suite of recording implants, superseding the need for most equipment.

> The haggard, unshaven face of a veteran. In more ways than one. You rode with the Third Airborne Armored during the last big dustup with CosmoPact. On deployment you got a habit of taking pictures with your old Kodak 98yt your Dad had given you in high school. Turns out you had a knack for it. When the truce was signed you sold your pictures to CoreComm News for a pretty penny, and they enclosed a job offer with the compensation. Rest is history. You insist on using physical lenses and old fashioned gear. Cyborgs wig you out.

> An attractive, smartly dressed woman with a professional air. The news is your life. You took the standard track from field reporter to regional desk to interstellar news anchor, but it wasnt enough. You needed to be something better than those fake careerists at HQ. To all of their shock, you volunteered to head to the much rougher outer worlds of Starcom and even rougher unaffiliated worlds, all in the search of the hottest scoop. Rais' World was your first such, but you will be damned if it is the last. You have basic comm and recording cyberware, but your real asset is charisma. There has never been a source who could stand up to your charm for long.

>>4397421
>> The haggard, unshaven face of a veteran. In more ways than one. You rode with the Third Airborne Armored during the last big dustup with CosmoPact. On deployment you got a habit of taking pictures with your old Kodak 98yt your Dad had given you in high school. Turns out you had a knack for it. When the truce was signed you sold your pictures to CoreComm News for a pretty penny, and they enclosed a job offer with the compensation. Rest is history. You insist on using physical lenses and old fashioned gear. Cyborgs wig you out.
Kids these days don't appreciate the classics. Physical lenses are AeStHeTiC goddammit!

>>4397423
>The haggard, unshaven face of a veteran. In more ways than one. You rode with the Third Airborne Armored during the last big dustup with CosmoPact. On deployment you got a habit of taking pictures with your old Kodak 98yt your Dad had given you in high school. Turns out you had a knack for it. When the truce was signed you sold your pictures to CoreComm News for a pretty penny, and they enclosed a job offer with the compensation. Rest is history. You insist on using physical lenses and old fashioned gear. Cyborgs wig you out.

>>4397423
>> The haggard, unshaven face of a veteran. In more ways than one. You rode with the Third Airborne Armored during the last big dustup with CosmoPact. On deployment you got a habit of taking pictures with your old Kodak 98yt your Dad had given you in high school. Turns out you had a knack for it. When the truce was signed you sold your pictures to CoreComm News for a pretty penny, and they enclosed a job offer with the compensation. Rest is history. You insist on using physical lenses and old fashioned gear. Cyborgs wig you out.

>>4397423
> The haggard, unshaven face of a veteran. In more ways than one. You rode with the Third Airborne Armored during the last big dustup with CosmoPact. On deployment you got a habit of taking pictures with your old Kodak 98yt your Dad had given you in high school. Turns out you had a knack for it. When the truce was signed you sold your pictures to CoreComm News for a pretty penny, and they enclosed a job offer with the compensation. Rest is history. You insist on using physical lenses and old fashioned gear. Cyborgs wig you out.

>>4397423
>The haggard, unshaven face of a veteran. In more ways than one. You rode with the Third Airborne Armored during the last big dustup with CosmoPact. On deployment you got a habit of taking pictures with your old Kodak 98yt your Dad had given you in high school. Turns out you had a knack for it. When the truce was signed you sold your pictures to CoreComm News for a pretty penny, and they enclosed a job offer with the compensation. Rest is history. You insist on using physical lenses and old fashioned gear. Cyborgs wig you out.

>>4397423
> The haggard, unshaven face of a veteran. In more ways than one. You rode with the Third Airborne Armored during the last big dustup with CosmoPact. On deployment you got a habit of taking pictures with your old Kodak 98yt your Dad had given you in high school. Turns out you had a knack for it. When the truce was signed you sold your pictures to CoreComm News for a pretty penny, and they enclosed a job offer with the compensation. Rest is history. You insist on using physical lenses and old fashioned gear. Cyborgs wig you out.

File: 6455f0e74fd40a2b7ef569b9f(...).jpg (239 KB, 1920x1080)

239 KB JPG

>>4397431
>>4397442
>>4397458
>>4397517
>>4397518
>>4397542

You look at the five o'clock shadow and eyebags in the mirror before shrugging. Fuck it, not the worst you've looked. A quick shower ought to do it.

You use up your entire, actually somewhat generous, water ration before putting on some comfortable, but still decent, travel clothes. Alicia is a woman of her word and you cannot be late. Annapolis City is the largest port on the planet of Nimitz, you have no doubt she had no trouble getting the tickets quickly but end of the day it amuses her to harry you. Occupational hazard, but you will take it over mortars and railguns.

Checking out is as simple as using your datapad to notify the front desk, and all your bulky photo and recording equipment loaded into your old SCDF rucksack, you head out to the public transport maglev. A scant few minutes later finds you at the security checkpoint halfway into the starport. A comely SCDF private asks for your identification, and papers for the somewhat comical amount of equipment slung over your shoulder. You smile back at her, best you can in your hungover state, and hand over your press chit.

The young woman is a little clumsy with English you can tell. Looks like a recruit from Yamato or maybe Seoul 2.

"Ah.. so. Mr..."

> Write in name


I will be leaving this one overnight as its about 2AM here. Thank you for your interest so far.

>>4397609

>Martin Cronkite

>>4397609
Walter Wilcox

>>4397609
Sherman King

>>4397609

Karl Wolters

>>4397609
>Hank Crombie

Rolled 11 (1d100)

>>4397609
Hugh Mungus

File: onebigfuckup.png (415 KB, 627x364)

415 KB PNG

Evan "Floating Asteroid" Wright.

>Most people on earth right now probably think of Glorbob Prime as a dangerous system. Now if I were to stand up, I might get killed. But to us, behind this engine nacelle, it's pretty safe. So to us, Glorbob Prime is a safe system.

James Blackwood

>>4397622
+1

File: desk.png (1009 KB, 1565x1200)

1009 KB PNG

>>4397622
>>4398074


"Martin Cronkite, CCN." You say in a professional, clipped delivery. The soldier, Takayanagi by the name tape, blushes slightly as you interrupt her, and promptly hands your chit back after her standard issue datapad spits it out with a pleasant beep. The pleasant beep is followed by a less familiar, duller sound. Her cheerful expression drops.

" Yes, Mister Cronkite. You are clear, but I got a flag alert just now. I am sorry, but you will have to come with me."

Shit. The one time it seemed like you weren't going to be stuck for hours in a starport. Alicia must have tipped off StarCom somehow. You nod at the woman and follow her deeper into the concourses. At least you are past security.

"In here, Mr. Cronkite" Takayanagi waves her arm towards a featureless door, two armored SCDF troopers standing guard on either side. With a shrug, you enter when one of the soldiers holds the door open for you.

You deflate when you see the man standing next to the table in the barren room.

"You again? What, are you my case officer or something now?" You say with a defeated sigh.

"Hello again Sergeant Cronkite. I see Rais's world turned out well for you." Responds Agent Blythe, Internal Security. You have a history with this particular spook.

1/2

>>4398920

On the agritransport you chartered a berth on out to Rais' World he approached you out of nowhere. As far as you knew no one else was on the thing other than you and the agrifreight guys, but that's spooks for you. He's tried to warn you off looking too deeply at who was at fault for the famine on the independent world. Humanitarian interest stuff was fine, but he made it clear any blowback on the Coreworld Corpos or StarCom would be on your shoulders.

You remember exactly how you took that...

> Fuck him and fuck spooks, you reported exactly who did what on that miserable farm colony.

> You took the warning under advisement, but your own integrity required you to do something. Reporting was purposefully vague, but enough people read between the lines back home that you felt a little bit better.

> You towed the line. Internal Security doesn't fuck around, you remember what happened to that one LT from intelligence who was a little loose with secrets on your combat tour. Or rather, that no one ever found out what happened.

2/2

>>4398936
>> You took the warning under advisement, but your own integrity required you to do something. Reporting was purposefully vague, but enough people read between the lines back home that you felt a little bit better.

>>4398936
>> Fuck him and fuck spooks, you reported exactly who did what on that miserable farm colony.

>>4398936
>> Fuck him and fuck spooks, you reported exactly who did what on that miserable farm colony.

>>4398936
>> Fuck him and fuck spooks, you reported exactly who did what on that miserable farm colony.

>>4398920
>Fuck him and fuck spooks, you reported exactly who did what on that miserable farm colony.

>>4398936
>> Fuck him and fuck spooks, you reported exactly who did what on that miserable farm colony.

File: folder.jpg (96 KB, 404x297)

96 KB JPG

>>4398954
>>4399015
>>4399030
>>4399056

Yeah, fuck that guy. So what, you pissed off some corpo suits back in the Coreworlds. Not like you are going back that way anytime soon. IS can eat you.

"What the hell do you want Blythe? And you know damn well I mustered out years ago. Cheap attempts to get a rise out of me will achieve nothing." You growl, sitting down across from him in the uncomfortable steel chair.

He puts his hands out towards you in a placating gesture. "Of course, my apologies Mister Cronkite." He sits down and takes out a file. Old fashioned paper, devoid of marking. Who even uses paper anymore?

"This is your IS file, we have everything in here from that arrest for narc possession when you were sixteen back on Concord to the thirty thousand credit units you spent on couples therapy before you went into the SCDF."

Is that supposed to impress you? That's all public records stuff, the arrest aside. Dad had that sealed after you did the community service. You aren't bothered at all by this obvious tactic.

You rub your finger where a ring once was.

" Of course, I doubt you are impressed by our little public records search. I'll skip to the good part. Two nights ago the word came through, from a bit higher than I even tend to walk. *Arrest and Detain*. You didn't listen to me last time and earned yourself a rendition!" He clearly takes some joy in delivering that last bit, the bastard.

"Fuck you spook." It's all that came to mind, really.


1/2

>>4399118
" Oh please, Mister Cronkite, you aren't my type. Too old." Your stomach turns. "You should be more polite, I'm the reason you are here and not on a one way trip to some blacksite in the periphery because you just sank the investment account of the Vice Director of Coreworld Ops."

Oh shit. He wants something, alright, and looks like saying no is not an option. Sweat beads on your brow.

"Something's up on Nowa Polska. My colleagues are being cagey about it and I do not like that. Unfortunately IS frowns on individual initiative, and my request for
diplomatic cover with the State Department suits on the way there was denied immediately." The snide expression hes worn since you entered softens a little.

"If Nowa Polska goes up it will be just like the bad old days after colonization. Both sides have too much invested there. No more border skirmishes like that trip to the sandbox you and the boys in the Third had a few years back. Old fashioned shooting war, no holding back, like back on Earth."

Your anger flares again, he wasn't there! This shitheel was flying a desk while you and Bravo Company were dodging CosmoPact rail munitions and buried mag limpets. But you let him continue, he isn't finished.

" My hands are tied, but yours are not. Get down there, do that job that angel of a boss wants to do. And find out what the rest of IS is up to. I used that shitty Pulitzer you won to argue you were too high profile to rendition. I put my ass on the line for that, and when this is over I expect we might be neighbors in that blacksite. I have a contact on Nowa Polska. They'll find you after you meet with your local CCN branch. They'll have more."

Fuck this is too much. You need a smoke. And a drink. A woman would be good. Fuck.

> Agree to be his pawn, you have no choice

> Try to play it detached, leaving your willingness ambiguous. (d100 best of 3)

> Fuck. Spooks.

>>4399150
>> Fuck. Spooks.

>>4399150
>> Try to play it detached, leaving your willingness ambiguous. (d100 best of 3)
You tempt me with the siren song of rolling dice

>> Try to play it detached, leaving your willingness ambiguous. (d100 best of 3)

>>4399150
> Try to play it detached, leaving your willingness ambiguous. (d100 best of 3)

>>4399150
>> Try to play it detached, leaving your willingness ambiguous. (d100 best of 3)

>>4399150
> Try to play it detached, leaving your willingness ambiguous. (d100 best of 3)

>>4399219
Calling the vote, show me the rolls.

Rolled 93 (1d100)

>>4399829

Rolled 71 (1d100)

>>4399829

Rolled 61 (1d100)

>>4399829

>>4399833
>>4399849
>>4399910

Confirmed and writing.

File: NimitzDock.jpg (77 KB, 675x900)

77 KB JPG

(Roll Success)

Alright. Calm down. Panic will get you nowhere. Yeah he's got you where he wants you, but to go through all this trouble? He's desperate too. Get back some control, even if you do more or less have to go along with his plan.

You wipe the sweat off your brow and proffer a half grin. " If all you wanted was some off the books investigative reporting, Blythe, you could have sent me a ping over the net. Ill meet with your contact, you have a code-phrase or some other spook shit I should know?" Blythe's smug expression returns and you know you've navigated this thing well. Or well enough. Not like you could say no without ending up in a cell.

His arms spread wide in a theatrical motion. "I knew I could count on you Mister Cronkite! At the end of this, who knows? You could be a hero twice over." This asshole really must have never left his desk. The only heroes you've ever met ended up in steel coffins on Nouveau Marrakesh.

His hands rest at his sides as he returns to his feet. "Now that we have an understanding, you are of course free to go. I would hurry though, your ship leaves in about ten minutes if I have my timing right. Oh, and the phrase is Muckraker." This jackass makes your blood boil. There is a piercing screech as the metal chair is sent sliding as you quickly rise and head for the door. Shouldering it open you impact into Private Takayanagi who apparently had spent your brief interrogation chatting with one of the SCDF guards instead of returning to her post. With a squawk she falls back, sending her datapad clattering across the metal deck and into a crowd of travelers.

" Shit! Sorry Private!"

You don't have time to help the poor girl up however, and leave her behind as you sprint towards your assigned concourse, the laughter of the two SCDF troopers fading into the background noise of the crowd. Moments later, you arrive at the airlock gate just as the last boarding group is called. Your old SCDF ruck gets some bemused looks with all of its bulk, but these days commercial space travel has plenty in the way of personal storage space. Your ticket even lists you as having a private cabin, a small boon you'll have to thank Alicia for once you have network access planetside. Most would consider it cramped, but you spend enough time basically living in one of the old Puma AFVs your unit used back in the day anything can seem spacious. The photo and recording equipment fits nicely into the personal effects closet along with your clothes and other belongings.

1/2

>>4400637
A text message from Alicia pings your communicator, and you bring it up on the room's personal terminal.

*Hey hotshot, I was a little harsh earlier, so I hope the room takes some of the sting out. I doubt you know much about Nowa Polska or the situation there, so I've included some required reading you should have plenty of time to get through in the next few days of travel. First report is expected to be delivered to the local CCN branch the day you come in. Just a general overview is fine. And Martin, don't fuck this up. For both our sakes.*

A fond smile makes its way to your face. For her, that was practically loving. You move the terminal's cursor down to the attachments. You will have plenty of time to read them all, but you have to start somewhere.

>CosmoPact interests on Nowa Polska

>StarCom interests on Nowa Polska

>Nowa Polska history and independent government.

> CosmoPact/StarCom recent conflicts and projected future flashpoints, provided courtesy of SpaceWarontheRocks.exonet.

2/2

>>4400653
>>CosmoPact interests on Nowa Polska

>>4400653
>CosmoPact interests on Nowa Polska

>>4400653
>CosmoPact interests on Nowa Polska

>>4400653
>>Nowa Polska history and independent government.

>>4400653
>Nowa Polska history and independent government.

>>4400653
>>Nowa Polska history and independent government.

Leaving the vote until 10, probably another one post night tonight. Im EST for the record.

Rolled 2 (1d2)

>>4402262

1 is CosmoPact

2 is Nowa Polska

>>4402464
Confirmed, writing.

File: Poland.png (992 B, 1920x1200)

992 B PNG

>>4402472

You open up the attachment titled NowaPolskainfo.docu. About a dozen windows flash to life, covering most of the terminal's display. A number of scholarly articles pop up, along with dated news bulletins and a few notes from Alicia that raise an eyebrow. This should have been a job for one of the analysts but it looks like she took a hands on approach with you yet again. Almost makes all the abuse worth it. Turns out you knew most of the basics, but the detail here is great and its not like you couldn't use a refresher on the subject.

It takes you a few hours to work through it all, but you get a general picture sure to be helpful when you make planetfall.

The most comprehensive of the documents starts way back, to when the generation ships were first being developed in the wake of the Severny incident and the following environmental collapse. The UN had its own program, as did the NATO countries, China, and even some private entities, but the most individual ships were completed by the old world Warsaw Pact. In an ambitious move the General Secretary announced that each SSR would have its own ships constructed by the party so that International Socialism would not perish from the Galaxy even if the Earth would. The origins of Nowa Polska are found in the construction of the Generation ship for the old world nation of Poland, the *Spychalski*.

Its no secret that the methods the Soviet government used to get its incredibly ambitious program completed were both brutal and rushed. Despite heavy use of forced labor and the full industrial might of the old USSR, many ships were written off halfway through construction and more were lost in transit to mysterious failures. The Spychalski would have its own failure, but this one was by design.

Practically none of the Poles used to build the ship were on the limited roster of colonists. They got word to sympathetic elements among those who were and a plan developed. A flaw was intentionally wired into a number of the cryo pods, timing them to fail at a particular point in the journey. Some of the Polish nationalists, at the sacrifice of their chance of completing the voyage intact, seized the ship from the Communist skeleton crew and altered their destination from the interior of plotted out Soviet space and toward one of the secondary prospective worlds, closer to where a source from the West had informed them the NATO ships would end their own travels.

Nowa Polska was the result, a truly independent colony in the space between the superpowers, the first of many that would follow its example in the coming decades. The government, formed by the various military and civil leader who had been in on the plan but remained in cryo, was a militarist junta that naturally had decent ties to what would become StarCom's worlds.

1/2

>>4402777
Things would remain this way in the heady years after colonization, as the new alliances replaced the old ones they so resembled and hard scrabble survival gave way to growing industry and abundance. Nowa Polska enjoyed the benefits of trade with StarCom space for many decades, becoming among the most wealthy of the independent worlds with its abundant natural resources. All of this promise would come to an end with the onset of humanity's first interstellar war, as the fractured Soviet and Chinese colonies finally united as CosmoPact and turned their combined might on the vulnerable and lucrative independents.

The successive generals who effectively ruled Nowa Polska had built a respectable army, but numbers and control of space made resisting CosmoPact forces for long an impossibility. Their hand forced, they formally requested the aid of the SCDF, which landed troops so soon that the rumor remains to this day they had their own invasion planned with our without the consent of Nowa Polska's government. The First Astral War, as it became known in StarCom space, lasted five years and was utterly indecisive. By the time of the armistice, Starcom and Cosmopact each controlled roughly half of the strategically valuable land on Nowa Polska. The planet remains divided, a reborn successor to the old Polish Communist Party holds sway as a puppet government under CosmoPact in the area it controls. The Nowa Polska government still holds what land it retained, but its an open secret those lands are under StarCom occupation in all but name. Its a heavily militarized border and violent incidents are common. Partisans also attack both superpowers' forces with regularity, the fierce polish spirit still alive many centuries after leaving Earth.

Its been more than three hours. You felt the engines of the transport burn to life and the inertia of takeoff some time ago. The terminal closed for the night, you turn in after a quick nightcap. The remainder of the files can wait, you have a lot of time to kill.

Three days later

Not the longest or worst time you have had to spacetravel, but possibly the most boring. Arriving on a planet infamous for it's harsh and cold climate that may well spring into a battlefield at a moments notice actually felt like a relief. You make your way out of the concourses and down to the ground transport area of Pilsudski Memorial Spaceport.

You consider getting a autotaxi before your comm squawks. Good thing you remembered to turn it back one. The audio feeds directly into your ear from the small earpiece. Most everyone gets their comm as an implant but you draw the line on cyberware more strictly than most.

2/3(Im bad at counting.)

>>4402813
"Mister Cronkite? Im Ron Chen, I intern at the local CCN branch under Miss Rosalski. She had me come down in her car and get you. Im right outside gate 3's baggage exit." The voice sounds very young, and a little nervous. Makes sense, you would't want to be trusted with Alicia's hovercar. Even if you did buy it.

"Thanks for coming out Ron, I'll be right over." You leave the call on as you step outside, toting your rucksack. Something strikes you.
"Wait, Ron, we've never met. How will I know which vehicle."

"Believe me sir, its never been an issue" There is humor in the boys voice, and as you push past the crowd your jaw drops. A young asian boy sits at the wheel of a bright red, pristine, wheeled convertible sports car. Basically a museum piece. Miss Rosalski must be both rich and reckless to trust something like that with an intern. Ron waves when he sees you.

You take a moment to gingerly place your equipment in the car's trunk and then jump in beside Ron as he offers his hand, which you shake firmly.

"You're the boss right now Mr. Cronkite, I can take you to your hotel so you can stow your stuff or we cam just head to the branch office and meet Miss Rosalski. You scratch the beginnings of a beard on your angular shin as you contemplate.

> Straight to CCN's offices

> Go to the hotel to settle in

> Ask if anything important happened while you were in transit

> Write in (The order in which even seemingly minor things is done can and will have effects. That said, expect a bit more freedom from now on.)

Poland can into space

>>4402821
> Ask if anything important happened while you were in transit

>>4402821
> Ask if anything important happened while you were in transit

>>4402821
>Ask if anything important happened while you were in transit

>>4402821
> Ask if anything important happened while you were in transit

>>4402821
>> Go to the hotel to settle in

File: NowaWarszawalightsnowfall.jpg (711 KB, 1920x1080)

711 KB JPG

>>4402821

You lay the seat back slightly and let the wind whip your shoulder length, unkempt mop of hair to and fro as Chen wheels the antique convertible out of the mass of far newer hovercars and auto taxis gathered around the ground transport entrance. You see far more people trying to leave than arriving, which tells you that word must have got out things were escalating.

" Ron, what's the latest? You know we don't get data feeds in transit." You say, your voice raised over the beating tundra winds as Chen winds between cars like hes being chased. For all his nervousness the boy is one hell of driver. You could have used him in the Third.

He looks over for a moment before turning back to the road and speaking. " Oh yeah I didn't think of that. I'm sure Miss Rosalski would have filled you in but while we're here, right? Basically whatever lead got you sent down here was on the money, an ammo dump went up in CosmoPact territory the other end of this continent. We saw it on satellite, must have been huge. They officially blamed the partisans but the Polish Free Army usually takes credit for their attacks. Nothing but silence. State Department is meeting with their Politburo counterparts at the Sobieski Interstellar Hotel. Nowa Polska's Generals have been sidelined, word is StarCom is upset with them over not managing to nip the partisan activity in the bud. I doubt the locals are happy about that." Yeah no shit, its their planet. Not surprising though, the higher ups at StarCom have always thought themselves more important than any individual planet, much less a technically unaffiliated government.

A light goes off in your head. "Wait, I'm at the same hotel as the diplomats?"

"Well yeah, we thought you would want to be close to whatever goes down." That's fair enough, but being close to those stuffed suits is liable to make your blood boil.

Your curiosity sated, you sit in companionable silence and enjoy the fresh, if frigid, air blowing by as the car rolls towards the Sobieski some fifteen minutes away. Snow begins to fall as you arrive at the front of the hotel, you hear the mechanical covering of the car rising up to cover it as you hand your id chit to the security at the entrance, notably a SCDF trooper devoid of unit markings. He waves you in, and it takes only a few minutes to find your room, one of the least prestigious but still better than just about anything you have ever stayed in. Actually kind of a shame you can't stay and have a drink in the lobby bar but you need to get to the CCN offices soon. Technically you could have gone there right after landing but its actually been valuable to get a partial mental map of Nowa Warszawa. You quickly change clothes and return to Chen who you find waiting patiently, despite holding up a few exceedingly expensive looking hovercars from approaching the entrance. You hop in, and at once the vehicle pulls out once again heading for the CCN branch.

1/2

>>4404069
The CCN office is about twenty minutes drive in moderate traffic, though the rarity of wheeled vehicles these days gives the sleek sports car an advantage in not getting held up too much by traffic. The Hotel is in the Financial District, and the CCN Branch is closer to the mid-range residential. This area of the city was hit hard in the First Astral War, so most of the buildings are of a squat, practical design clearly meant to add to structural integrity should conflict return. One such squat structure bears the CCN logo on it's facade, along with an array of broadcast and reception equipment sticking up from the rook like a small metal forest. Chen parks the convertible in a small covered garage housing a number of hovervans and one large utility hauler with the CCN logo. You both head inside a nearby door that connects to the Branch Office proper.

The secretary on the first floor sees you enter with Chen and silently points to an internal elevator to her left. You both take it up to the fourth floor, where the studio and production for broadcasts are handled. The elevator reveals an older dark haird woman, probably around fifty, in a sharp pantsuit.

" Cronkite, you're here, good. Introductions can wait, we need to get your introductory broadcast done as soon as possible. This one you'll do in studio but I imagine you will be on location more often than not. Remember this is going to be seen on every standard level feed in StarCom space, and after all those awards for Rais' World its a coup for my branch to have you. Step on into the studio and I'll have our anchor hand things over."

You nod your understanding and head over to the filming area. These cameras are a lot fancier than your own gear, and will take pictures in a 360 degree angle so as to the smoothly transition your image into the holographic standard displays common to the core worlds. At the signal from the anchor, you prepare to deliver your introductory report for your new station.

> Deliver the report neutrally. (Write in optional, 1d100 best of 3)

> Deliver the report with a pro StarCom slant

> Deliver the report with a sympathetic view towards Nowa Polska and it's people

> Draw attention to possible IS misdoings

> Write in

Also, while at the hotel you changed clothes:

> A rumpled suit and loafers with a red tie

> Smart and airy button-up with khaki pants

> Street clothes, a hooded winter coat and work boots for that hard scrabble on the scene look.

> Write in

2/2

Rolled 93 (1d100)

>>4404098
>> Deliver the report with a sympathetic view towards Nowa Polska and it's people
> Smart and airy button-up with khaki pants

>>4404098

> Deliver the report with a sympathetic view towards Nowa Polska and it's people

> Smart and airy button-up with khaki pants

>>4404099
+1

I have an irl Dnd session tonight so next update may be tomorrow. More time for any new voters to pop in meanwhile.

Rolled 80 (1d100)

>>4404098
>> Deliver the report with a sympathetic view towards Nowa Polska and it's people
> Smart and airy button-up with khaki pants

Rolled 91 (1d100)

>>4404098

>>4404099
>>4406418
>>4406458

Rolls confirmed update forthcoming later tonight.

File: TotallynotamockupforAlArabiya.jpg (418 KB, 1800x982)

418 KB JPG

A tone informs you the recording equipment has spun up. " This is a CCN special report. Good evening, I'm Martin Cronkite broadcasting across free space from CCN Studios Nowa Warszawa on Nowa Polska. Tensions continue to rise on the divided independent world, putting its long suffering people at ill ease as the superpowers seem poised to continue their titanic struggle on unaffiliated land. With the destruction of a CosmoPact ammo dump with unknown damages and casualties..." You go on for several minutes, making excellent use of the info Alicia sent you along with Chen's quick refresher. This is a bit different from the on location work you're used to, but then having air conditioning and no risk of local children messing with your recording setup is hardly a negative. Before long the light above the recording equipment blinks to life, signaling you to wrap it up. " ...we will continue to keep you up to date with on the scene reporting as the situation develops. This has been Martin Cronkite, CCN."

The lights overexposing your face dim and silence returns after the audible CCN jingle fades, leaving nothing but a soft clap from the silhouette of Miss Rosalski standing near where you entered. "That was excellently done, Cronkite, I guess Alicia wasn't blowing smoke up my ass about you being worth the trouble. "She walks into the dim light, offering her hand. "Zofia Rosalski, charmed. Im not really your boss so Zofia will do." You shake her hand gingerly. She has a regal bearing, and some foolish instinct almost had you kissing her hand like some holodrama about Old Earth. It's more than a little embarrassing your mind even went there.

"Nice to meet you, Zofia. I'm glad I didn't fuck up my first day at least." You say with a hand rubbing the back of your head in what you hope seems a casual tic. She smiles subtly. "You did wonderful! I'm told to process anything you send me and get it sent off as soon as it's ready. Here, ill send my comm ID over. Call if you need the studio for something, or just want to chat." Your comm pings as it receives the new contact. You think over your options for the rest of the day.

> Blythe's contact was supposed to meet you after you got to the CCN offices. You will likely run into them if you wander around a bit.

> Couldn't hurt to get to know the local crew a bit better(Who?)

> Never a bad idea to check in with StarCom's local HQ. Probably just end up with an official statement but making the effort is half the job.

> Try and catch a CosmoPact official at lunch or in the Hotel Bar, they usually have too many guards to get near but who knows.

> Visit the Government Palace, maybe the independent government is willing to talk to the press.

>>4406757
>> Blythe's contact was supposed to meet you after you got to the CCN offices. You will likely run into them if you wander around a bit.

>>4406757
> Blythe's contact was supposed to meet you after you got to the CCN offices. You will likely run into them if you wander around a bit.

>>4406757
>> Blythe's contact was supposed to meet you after you got to the CCN offices. You will likely run into them if you wander around a bit.
I hope that this isnt dead yet

>>4406757
>> Visit the Government Palace, maybe the independent government is willing to talk to the press.

Hey guys, not dead. Will update tomorrow. Thank you for your patience.

File: apartments.jpg (50 KB, 500x357)

50 KB JPG

>>4406793
>>4406966
>>4413025

You say your quick goodbyes to Zofia and her crew before returning downstairs and moving to leave the studio building. Agent Blythe said his contact on the ground would seek you out after you arrived at the CCN studio. You don't like the man but he has you by the balls on this one. Besides, might end up being a good story.

The surrounding area is mostly devoid of places your mind would point out as good places to be found, no public parks, bars, or other gathering spots. Just featureless buildings in the spartan prefab style of early colony buildings, with clear reinforcement and repair work done more recently. After a few minutes you find yourself just wandering through the sparsely traveled streets and alleys, searching in vain for someone who fits your mental image of a spook. Walking through yet another dim alleyway, you stop cold at the telltale mechanical click of a weapon's safety at your back. Out of options, you take a chance.

"Muckraker" At the words you hear the safety reengage, and turn around. Before you stands a young man in the distinct grey and red of a Nowa Polska army officer.

" Sorry for the precaution, Blythe gave me a good description and you fit it, but I do not get careless with IS crawling around the city for the conference." His accent is thick and local, clearly Blythe has more reach here than you realized to get a uniformed asset like this.

" You can call me Captain Symanski, or Pawel if you prefer to be casual. Makes no difference to me. Blythe wanted me to share intel when you got planetside, but I had to verify first. Come with me, I know a place nearby." He walks out of the alley beckoning you to follow. A few moments later he steps into a non-descript building,and it turns out you were wrong about the area. Within is a well stocked and pretty lively bar, the kind of place you would frequent pretty often back in your military days. Symanski directs you to an empty booth in the back after the burly bearded man behind the bar gives him a knowing, curt nod.

"Nice place you have here." You say, as drinks arrive seemingly without being ordered. He shrugs.

"I know Borys, he lets me have my privacy and I don't tell the military police he sells weapons out the back." Symanski smiles and shrugs. "Yeah you probably guessed but I am with Nowa Polska military intelligence. My capacity is official even if your friend Blythe can't be. I also have authorization to help you in most ways, but first I want to see what you suspect, what you have seen. Then I will now what to tell you from my end." He takes a swig of his drink

>Be upfront with Blythe's suspicions about IS as relayed

>Share doubts about the legality of StarCom's presence and their intentions

> The Reds must be up to something

> The local guerrillas did that job on the ammo dump, maybe they want to disrupt things

> Write in

>>4431141
I may have to archive after this one looking at the catalog. New thread soon, but please respond to this prompt here for now.

>>4431145
Switching to secure trip due to a crack, do not be alarmed.

>>4431141
>>Share doubts about the legality of StarCom's presence and their intentions