In Neptune's Realm - IC thread, High Seas Adventure Options

[toturi]

1006 EDT/1406 Zulu, 1 June 2072: Offshore of Miami
Eddie replies to Roger.
This is Eddie. My shots were quite a while back, I don't think they are still up to date.

[Digital Heroin]

Salt regards the message, and calls up his sanitized medical records. He scrutinizes the documents for a moment, and decides, what the hell, the hacker cum doctor would be able to suss them out anyway, so why not share.

<Roger, enclosed are my immunization and medical records. Anything scrambled is lost to the Matrix, but I can fill in the blanks offline if need be.>

He fires the message, with the records attached to it.

[GrimWulf]

1006 EDT/1406 Zulu, 1 June 2072: Offshore of Miami


<Hey Doc, this be Malachi, all my shots are up to date for the Caribbean and area.>

As an afterthought he also sends the following message.

<And yes I know how to type.>

[Xahn Borealis]

1004 EDT/1405 Zulu, 1 June 2072: Offshore of Miami

<I haven't been out to sea in a coupla years, so I'll need a top up of my shots, doc. Just let me know when's a good time.>

[Dumori]

1004 EDT/1405 Zulu, 1 June 2072: Offshore of Miami

<I had them a while back in the SBS and I've been working out of Miami since then. However if you deem it best Doc then just tell me when.>

[Minchandre]

Miami: 1 June 2072, 1008 Eastern Daylight Time/1408 Zulu
[Ilana Duvdevani, Active]
MY Quicksilver: Miami, Caribbean League

Cherry leaves dinner and heads to her cabin, where she takes in the fairly luxurious surroundings and the personal touches with a bit of surprise. The Bible, in particular, throws her off: the staidly secular Jew hadn't cracked a Bible pretty much since high school Talmud class. The formalities on the sundeck are participated in with a sort of interested disinterest: the attitude of a career soldier who cares, but has just seen it all before.

Afterwards, she takes her part in the flurry of personal messages. Though a little surprised at being appointed Intel instead of Comms, Cherry is no stranger to non-optimal assignments, and so keeps her mouth shut. Salt also said that he wouldn't be standing on formalities, so once they got out at sea, she'd likely be able to take up her old duties. Intel needs an Overwatch, too, right? Putting that from her mind, she composes a little message to go out on general channels.

<Hello everybody,

I'm not certain if it's my place to make a statement as XO, but at the very least, this will serve as a greeting. It seems that the Skipper wishes a more informal structure than I'm used to, so I apologize if I'm ever overly stiff or formal with you; please tell me if this is so.

To echo Captain Salt's words, I will be keeping no secrets from him. That said, I understand it's traditional for most complaints to come to the XO rather than the CO, in order to keep the latter's schedule a little more clear. If you have anything to complain about, do not hesitate to inform me, and I'll pass it up the ladder as appropriate.

I look forward to working with you all,
Cherry>


To Roger she sends her immunization records, scrubbed of all references to place or institute, but with dates and vaccinations intact. Her shots are all up to date, and probably cover most of what the doctor would like her to have, though there's likely a couple missing and a couple extra.

[Penta]

1010 EDT/1410 Zulu, 1 June 2072
[Not Applicable]
MY Quicksilver: Offshore of Miami, Caribbean League

10 minutes after the events on the sun deck, as promised, the trainees were summoned by comm message to their first classes.

Things moved very quickly after that. Their instructors were now in service khakis, and lunch was informal. Afternoon classes settled into the same rhythm. Things were settled such that, with the exception of those taking the intel officer's course, all the basics were gotten over with during that first day if possible. Those taking the intel officer's course, on the other hand, found themselves in lecture and simsense, with breaks only for lunch.

As classes broke up at 1730 to give everyone time to prep for dinner, the ship's bell rang four times over the intercom, signalling the end of the regular training day and the end of the afternoon watch for the rest of the crew.

"Bravo Watch, stand by for relief. Charlie Watch, report to your stations. Evening Mess will be served in 30 minutes, Service Uniforms or civvies," announced a crewmember over the intercom.

At the same time, the shadowrunners' commlinks beeped with an incoming text message:

<I didn't lie when I said the formalities were over with earlier, folks. They mostly are. This is a bit of a promotion party for Lt. Commander Roberts, combined with a celebration of the op's finally hitting sea, for everybody else; from the youngest enlisted through to me, a lot of the servicemembers aboard have been working 16-20 hour days for months, in high-stress, on a classified project many are only now seeing the results of. For you folks, decent civvies will do. Nothing too formal, but "Business Casual", I suppose, at a minimum.

A word on alcohol: By longstanding General Order, the Navy used to be "dry"...Had been since 1914, actually. But since the Union of the old US and Canada (US Navy was dry; Canadian Navy wasn't. Canada, for once, won the battle - sort of, with the assistance of their USN comrades), we allow very limited alcohol consumption...Only at mealtimes, only if you're off-duty, only in the Mess Hall or Wardroom, only if you're of legal age (18), and the decision of the mess whether or not to stop serving you alcohol is absolutely final. For this op, however, I issued a standing order to the crew, which will apply to you while we're aboard: You may drink anywhere except the bridge and other operational spaces (like the engine room), so long as you're off-duty and no less than 2 hours from going on duty, with no restriction on age or amount, so long as amount stays within reason. We ask that the younger members of the crew who happen to be below drinking age not write home about this fact...And that their older comrades, including you folks, make sure they don't overdo it. Oh, yes: Absolutely no drinking games, dammit; that kills people. If you see any, let me know by comm so that a quiet word might stop them before they go too far. If you start any, I will feed you to the sharks.

Finally, bear with us through the toasts, the speeches, etc. They're tradition, adapted to our circumstances. The Navy is big on tradition, almost as much as the Marines. Even in our fun, which amidst the semi-formality of dinner (and the informality of later), this is meant to be for all involved. When an officer is being promoted, especially after a long stretch of independent duty (though usually that doesn't mean of the sort that Roberts has been through!), those traditions are important. Even the somber ones, of which you'll note one or two. Perhaps especially the somber ones. - Walker>

Evening Mess is a barbecue - burgers, ribs, all-beef hot dogs, corn on the cob, and similar were the featured fare - as was a fair amount of liquor.

Before the fun begins, though, the evening begins on a somber note.

While few tables were set this evening, one was. It was, however, never occupied: Featuring the service caps of each of the armed services, this table had a black tablecloth, an inverted beer mug, blank dog tags next to each service cap, and a lemon slice on the plate.

A handbell is rung three times, and Walker steps to the front of the assembled crew, in service khakis. "Before we begin the fun tonight, let us remember," he intones. "The missing and the departed. Remember them, comrades, not with tears but with laughter. Remember them not merely in our words, but in our every action. Remember, comrades, for what they gave their lives and the last full measure of devotion. And as we remember, let us recommit ourselves to task they have left us."

The glasses, then, are raised by the servicemembers among them, glasses filled with a golden beer. "To absent comrades: May their memories never fade, may their legacy live on forever," Walker intoned, receiving a response from the others: "To absent comrades!" With that, the beers went back, tasting very bitter as they hit the tongue, as "Last Post" could be heard throughout the ship, from fore and aft.

"With that, ladies and gentlemen, let the fun begin! The smoking lamp is lit and the taps are open!" Walker announces.

The somber notes complete, the party begins.

uddenly, around 2000, came a noise, a clatter. Yes, the time had arrived. With due ceremony and no small amount of teasing (and a good-natured attempt at resistance and possibly an attempted escape by the newly-promoted), Roberts was thrown into the ocean by his fellow officers (led by Lt. Esteban). In his dress whites. Fortunately, the ship was stopped and the sea life was far away, enabling Roberts to surface and swim back to the ship. First words out of his mouth upon returning to the ship? "I thought the water was warmer this time of year!" That got laughs, hearty laughs from most present as the ship resumed sailing. The party continued until easily midnight, though guests began drifting off (whether to their bunks or to stand watch) about 2330.

2 June 2072: MY Quicksilver: Somewhere in the Atlantic Ocean

After a short sleep, the day began early for the trainees. At 0600, to be exact, each was awoken by a junior officer knocking at their door. Breakfast would be served at 0700, with classes beginning 0745. Breakfast was again real food and drink, and again eaten at a common table with the trainers - this time, everyone was in working uniforms, and things were distinctly less formal than they had yet been. Only the most basic rules of the mess were observed: No weapons or other working implements at the table, no classified information, and no talking shop. Besides the restrictions on classified info and talking shop, any topic was open. And topics across the spectrum were covered, from politics to sports to, in one weird diversion, fiber-optic hair. It turned out that political opinion at the table was infinitely more varied than one might expect of military personnel: While Roberts and Walker professed neutrality, the other naval and marine personnel at the table had perspectives that occupied practically every spot on the spectrum, depending on issue. The one thing that was eschewed universally was any real binding party loyalties. On sports, much of the group were traditionalists. There was, despite that, a common love for Urban Brawl, especially the smaller teams.

After breakfast, training resumed from 0745 to 1245, when classes broke for lunch, which was similar to breakfast. After lunch, training resumed at 1345 and continued until 1730, when classes paused for dinner at 1800. After that was free time; that is, until 0600 the next day, when everything started up again.

The routine continued like that for the next few days through surprisingly clear weather, despite a tropical storm that wavered between approaching the coast and staying safely out to sea.

Then, on the seventh day, they were scheduled to dock in the evening. Hence, Captain Walker called a meeting of the shadowrunners after breakfast, including them, him, and Lt. Commander Roberts, but nobody else.

"Okay, folks. We're about to dock in Cape May tonight. This will mark our departure, and you officially assuming control of this vessel - with about a 24 hour turnaround time to allow for refueling, restocking of provisions, et cetera. So you effectively get at least 24 hours of shore leave, on the Navy's tab - we'll pay for a max of 72, assuming there are no delays. But before that all happens, there are things you all need to settle and I need to take notes on. Before the fun begins, when everybody's calm and rational, these things need to be settled: How you're going to divide your three-quarters of any takings, what your cover will be, and what your backup covers will be in case your cover fails," Walker stated once they were all gathered.

"So far as takings goes, whatever you decide will work out fine, we just need to know what you decide.

"So far as covers go: We definitely need to know that. That will determine how you get contacted, what you get asked to do, and so forth. Try to choose a cover that not only gives an excuse for everything you're carrying, but also anything...Odd...you may be doing. Your backup cover not only has to be even more solid than your front-line cover, it has to explain why you were lying. And it can't point back to the UCAS government. With that said, I'll sit back and let you all discuss amongst yourselves. The only times me and Commander Roberts will comment on your plans is if we identify obvious holes or issues, especially with your covers. Otherwise, the Navy role will be to facilitate those covers."
---
<OOC: Okay. You guys can go in and "fill in the details" on the voyage, classes, etc. I'll be happy to help there, grab me off-threads if you want to run things by me. Re the takings and covers discussion: Feel free to take time to discuss both issues OOCly - remember so far as any takings that until the loan is paid off, the Government takes one-quarter to put towards the loan. The other 3/4 you guys get to allocate amongst yourselves, the ship, etc. Keep in mind that out of that 3/4 you have to cover your expenses. If you'd like a link to what BitW decided, I can link to it. Similarly, with the covers, I know BitW's cover idea was rejected, but I'd still like to see what you come up with. If you decide you're stumped on either issue, I can have Roberts or Walker gingerly offer suggestions as a last resort.>

[Minchandre]

1735 EDT/2135 Zulu, 1 June 2072
[Ilana Duvdevani, Active]
MY Quicksilver: Offshore of Miami, Caribbean League

The first day of class had been very intensive for Cherry - apparently Intel Officer meant the proverbial firehose of information. Still, she'd always been a bright girl, and did fairly well, though probably not as well as if she'd had a photographic memory or something. At least spending the whole day in VR was nothing new, right? At 1730, the day of lessons was over - though the instructors took full advantage of the elf's sleep regulator in assigning her homework.

The Captain's announcement is received, and the historical lesson consumed and digested with the rest of the intel data she'd been given, when a very atypical thought strikes, causing Cherry to laugh out loud: My sister would be so proud: I have to go to a party and I don't know what to wear! She shoots a quick message off to Roberts, describing the situation: <Lt Cmdr Roberts, Cptn Walker said to wear "business casual" to dinner: my current clothing options include my fatigues, the new uniforms we've been issued, some workout clothes, and a Zoé cocktail dress. Which of these is most appropriate?>

It takes but a moment for Roberts to reply, <In all my years in the Navy, that is perhaps the oddest question I've ever been asked. I'll check with the Captain, but none of those seem particularly good. I'll see about getting you something appropriate on the clothes printer downstairs. Your measurements are, of course, on file.>

Thus it is that Captain Duvdevani comes to the barbecue looking distinctly uncomfortable in black loose pants and sleeveless top, though she quickly gets over it. The toast to fallen comrades gets a tear, the dumping of Roberts gets a laugh, and before long the dinner's over and she's back in her cabin, nose to the virtual grindstone.

2-6 June 2072
[Ilana Duvdevani, Active]
MY Quicksilver: Various Locations, Caribbean League, Atlantic Ocean, and UCAS waters

[OOC: A montage, of course, though I can't find a good song to set it to. (IMG:style_emoticons/default/nyahnyah.gif) ]

First cut - Cherry is lying catatonic in a chair, obviously in VR.
Cut, and she's firing a pistol on a range.
Cut, catatonic in a chair again.
Cut, more chair!
Cut, she's speaking Portuguese to someone.
Cut, chair!
Cut, one of her Armadillo drones is flying.
Cut, she's examining the engine.
Cut, she's in the chair again!
Final cut, She's standing triumphantly on the bow of the ship, watching the waves.
Fade to black

730 EDT/1130 Zulu, 7 June 2072
[Ilana Duvdevani, Active]
MY Quicksilver: UCAS waters

When the meeting is called on the seventh morning, Cherry is ready for a break. What kind of barbarians don't give you the Sabbath off? Thus, the news that land will be made soon is a relief. Cherry didn't get seasick or anything, but seven days of intense training on a boat that was, if large for a boat, still tiny compared to a city or even a military base, definitely wore. When the shore leave is announced, a quick check of UCAS maps indicates that a trip to New York to visit the grandparents is probably the order of the day - hopefully she'd be able to get the full 72 hours. How fast do the trains run, I wonder?

As for dividing the loot and coming up with a cover...well, intelligence and training mean little in the face of near-total ignorance.

[toturi]

2-6 June 2072
[Eddie G, Passive]
MY Quicksilver: Various Locations, Caribbean League, Atlantic Ocean, and UCAS waters

The instructors schedule the physical work during daylight hours and crammed all the lessons at night. Eddie's eidetic memory serves him well during lessons, although he was tired and he might not have understood everything but he certainly remembers them all. He is reminded of the punishing cross training he had with the Spetnaz when he was with the Yamatetsu security. Pain in the ass.

[Digital Heroin]

1 June - 7 June 2072
[Alan Hammond, Active]
MY Quicksilver: In Transit
Montage Tune: Barrett's Privateers - Stan Rogers

Day 1 - Wednesday
"To ourselves, because no one else is likely to bother."

Indoctrination training. That is what Salt would categorize the first day as. Cover the basics. Show the civilians what military life is like. Show the grunts what Navy life is like. And show the foreign sailors how the UCAS Navy does things. In truth, there are few differences left between the navies. The UCAS side are a bit more British in their sensibilities, but Salt is a student of naval tradition, and all good navies have a British influence to them.

The Intelligence Officer training he attends as a show of solidarity with Cherry, suffering the information dump along with her. He is not as accustomed to time in the virtual, however, having been born into and era where it was all still 'newfangled' and out of reach for your average citizen. The time in the chair leaves him a touch ornery.

Salt shows to the BBQ in his finest Hawaiian shirt (vintage, pre-Kingdom, silk) and shorts with sandals. While some may say otherwise, short a uniform, the kit is as business as he gets. Hell, he is retired after all. The party offers many chances for interaction with, and observation of his new crew. Of them all, Salt will stay the latest, absent only for a spell, having talked Lieutenant Benitaz into a tour of the Quicksilver's engine spaces. Save for the toast, Salt remains dry, and indulges instead in a Carib-League hand rolled cigar, a true pleasure to be hand inside of the embargo zone. He is social, even approachable through the event, and the only touchy subject for him proves to be the Azatlan government, and her people. Talk of that will really set him off, even though he has been able to set aside any bias with the present company. They are, after all, UCAS citizens and Naval personnel, that trumps heritage to him. When the mids watch shifts on, Salt returns to his quarters to do some light reading, and catch some sleep.

Day 2 - Thursday
"To a bloody war, or a sickly season."

Morning of the first full day at sea sees Salt awake early, and before the steward's shake comes he is showered, freshly shaved for the first time in several months, and enjoying a mug of black coffee while reading through media feeds, marking items to follow up on later. He had spent several years setting himself apart from the world at large, now he finds himself having to learn about it all over again. Breakfast brings with it the usual morning talk, mixed with nerves and a little illness amongst the new crew - even the seasoned can feel the sea their first few days out, especially if alcohol is in play. The conversation is light, and he spends most of his time observing, all while consuming enough three rather large portions of food.

Training begins for him with Walker and Roberts, an officer's perspective on the principles of leadership. He opens his mind, and lets all of those old NCM biases slide for the time being, soaking in their collective knowledge. He was on the cusp of that style of leadership already when he retired. One foot int he grave, one could say.

Cut to the afternoon, on the bridge. Salt is pouring over the navigation systems with Roberts, studying regional charts, and correlating them with recent naval intel as well as civilian notices to mariners. Layers of AR peel back as they build a more complete picture of their area of operations. No sense, after all, in going in to things blind.

Day 3 - Friday
"To a willing foe and sea room."

The day finds Salt and Lieutenant Benitaz conducting a more thorough and more formal tour of the Quicksilver's engineering spaces. They have already gone through the wireframe and schematics in virtual, but like any good engineer he is not about to trust in the specs. The hardworking men and women who put these things together, the ones doing double shifts to fend off debt building boats that sell for millions they will never seem they sometimes deviate from the plans. They could be tired, they may have other things on their mind, know better than the engineer who designed the boat, or they could be short on supplies and manpower. Salt understands, but he is not about to take the specs at face value. And he is not about to take command of a ship whose engines he has not personally inspected.

Day 4 - Saturday
"To our wives and sweethearts (may they never meet)."

Damage control exercises. Fighting fires, shoring up hatches, diverting power; Salt could do it all in his sleep. For twenty years he built a resume with exercises and real incidents that covers all manner of potential problems at sea. His experience with the command side of things, running an entire crew and not a team in the thick of things, however, is more limited. So he gets the hot seat, and runs the show while the crew gets some experience in working together.

The rest of the day he spends with his head in the books, actual paper books. Radio Aides to Navigation, Rules of the Road, Admiralty Guides; he spends time refreshing himself on a lot of things he has only ever casually read, or read in focused parts, before.

Day 5 - Sunday
"To absent friends."

More time studying the theater of operations, this time with a focus on civilian assets. Assets being a fancy way of saying criminal organizations. There is no sense being a privateer without knowing the lay of the land, and what pirate clans and crews are running the waters.

The studies, inevitably, sway to politics. A distasteful realm, but if they are supposed to avoid targeting allies of the UCAS, well he has to wrap his head around who exactly those allies are, and what they are up to.

Day 6 - Monday
"To our ships at sea."

Boarding tactics. Salt cut his teeth boarding pirate vessels in the Carib-League when he was barely old enough to grow a proud naval beard, but this is a different crew, and quite a different vessel. He spends the morning working with Ramirez and Lynch, two men of his own heart, developing plans to repel boarders from the Quicksilver should the need arise. After all, there is no use setting to sea and assuming the next few months will be smooth sailing. They are aiming to take on pirates, and pirates do love to board vessels.

That afternoon he enlists the Navy crew, and any of the new crew willing, to run scenarios real time, complete with use of the Zodiacs and simmunition. He and the Chiefs fine tune the plans. The exercise is more team building, and allows Salt to shake off a little bit of rust from his trigger finger as well. When it is all said and done, he and the Chiefs retire to enjoy some old man talk on the quarterdeck, shooing off anyone with bars, or without a half dozen deployments under their belts.

Day 7 - Tuesday
"To our men."

The morning of the seventh day Salt wakes early as usual. No doubt he has one of the clearest heads aboard, as Channel Fever has no doubt claimed more than a few of the naval personnel, and brought them to imbibe a bit too much alcohol, in anticipation of leave. He spends the wee hours reading up on the bridge, working a good groove into the Captain's chair for his comfort.

When Roberts brings them aside for the final pep talk, and to cut the leash, Salt looks over the others, and smiles. `This is the part where you all thank me, because I'm going to make our patrons pay as much as I can get away with, and for your time, and your hard work, I'm granting the full seventy-two.` It will give him time to sort out the details on their first tasking, and them some time to enjoy the last easy days they no doubt will have for a while. `As for the take, I'm not a greedy man. After we sort expenses out, and settle with our benefactors, I ask no more than anyone who sails with me. Even split, and any who would expect more is welcome to have words with me. Cover, well that I can provide. I know a crew out of Georgia, down in Confederate country, that does salvage. I reckon they won't turn us away if we need someone to vouch we're in the game. Any other layers we need to build after that, I'm more than open to hearing suggestions for.`

[Faraday]

1735 EDT/2135 Zulu, 1 June 2072
[Roger Wayne, Active]
MY Quicksilver: Offshore of Miami, Caribbean League

For Roger, who was in for a little Intel training, the day goes by in a blaze of information, numbers, facts, and assorted minutae. He eats nothing during lunch, preferring to look over visual notes and clips he'd stored during the first morning hours. He does engage in a little light conversation, but he is obviously distracted and more perceptive people will notice he doesn't touch any food. Then, it's back to study, just like the good ol' days in Columbia University. Hard and fast, but dedicated to the student's (trainee's?) improvement. The Intel business is new to him, but exciting, and he manages to keep pace for the most part.

When the day ends out at 1730, Roger gets to try to figure what to dress himself in. Business...casual? He ends up taking a black short sleeve polo and slacks, hoping for the best. During the party, he lets himself enjoy the festivities, as well as watching Roberts get dunked. After a few others go below, he follows and enters his room, winding down a bit before launching right into more studies, mostly overviewing the Intel course. He finally goes to sleep at 0345, and is awake shortly before breakfast is called.

Day 2-6, June 2072
Roger continues the breakneck pace of Intel courses during the day, while piling on his medical refresher at night. His brain is in full gear for these days, and he only eats at breakfast. Meal time is spent either reviewing or talking.

[OOC: Montage follows, set to Devo-I'm a Potato]

First, Roger strapped in a chair, drooling a little, hopefully in VR.
Then, he's shown firing an Assault rifle... nearly falling over from the recoil.
Cut, catatonic in a chair again.
Cut, sweating brow, doing a delicate medical procedure in VR.
Cut, back to the chair.
Cut, speaking Portuguese to someone.
Cut, showing one of his crew mates how to work a medkit.
Cut, he's chasing his Bust-a-Move down the hall.
Cut, sitting at the dinner table, apparently staring into space. Oh, he's just looking at some AR notes.
Cut, he's firing the Assault rifle again, he looks kind of competent.
Cut, poking around in a drone.
Final cut, he's in his white medical coat and doing VR. In VR, there are big green blining letters: [Quadruple heart bypass successful!]
Fade to black

[Penta]

7 June 2072: 0735 EDT/1135 Zulu
[Not Applicable]
MY Quicksilver: Offshore Cape May, NJ, UCAS

"Okay, so far as the takings goes, what I am hearing is this: 25% goes to the Navy to pay off your loan. 25% goes to a fund for upkeep, repair, upgrades, and other expenses of the ship. The remaining 50% is split equally between yourselves. So, and keep in mind that I'm using hypothetical numbers here, if you make a capture worth 100 thousand nuyen, the Navy gets 25 thousand, your ship fund gets 25 thousand, and presuming a crew of 10 for easy math's sake, you each get 5 thousand," Walker summarizes.

"So far as covers, what I'm hearing is that you're a salvage crew. Failing that, you're doing cargo transport. Failing *that*, you're human rights activists. If that fails, you fess up to being smugglers. If that fails, you shoot and run." Walker looks about. "These sound like accurate summaries of your discussions?"

After a few nods, Walker and Roberts stand. "Some final stuff before I head up to the bridge and relieve the Ensign currently holding the conn. One: As of a minute ago, we released the controls blocking outbound comms. Feel free to contact who you will, but don't mention what's going on here. Two: You're getting, courtesy of the UCAS Naval Academy, a whole lot of tutorsofts and knowsofts - they're scheduled to be released to the Midshipmen in September, and the Navy would appreciate commentary if you do use em. Otherwise, consider them a freebie. Other than that, I'm going to release you to do what you will while we head to dock," Walker notes.

7 June 2072: 2100 EDT/0200 Zulu

At 2100, the ship slides into a berth at the Cape May public marina.

The docking process is completed quickly, and the crew begins unloading what isn't being left for the shadowrunners with alacrity: After all, the sooner all this is done, the sooner their leave starts.

By 2200, that's done, and Walker and Roberts lead the shadowrunners on one last walkabout of the ship, making sure what should be gone actually is, what should stay has stayed, and so forth. Everything being found in order, the foot of the gangway is where Walker officially turns the ship over with a few computer commands, before a van pulls up to the pier. Fortunately, Walker and Roberts seem to recognize it. "Oh yeah, totally forgot," Walker mutters. Then he turns back towards the runners on Quicksilver. "We hired you some help. Including a replacement mage."
---
OOC: Okay, guys. Thank you for putting up with training week.

I'll let you determine how long your shore leave lasts, OOCly and ICly; OOCly, let's try to make sure activity doesn't die, all I ask.

Once it's up, we'll get you out into the ocean and bound for your target.

Oh, yes. Horvagab, Edana, The Goon? That van is your cue.(IMG:style_emoticons/default/smile.gif)
---
About the tutorsofts the Navy left behind:

They are rating 4 tutorsofts, in a variety of subjects. They also come with associated datasofts (the textbooks used for each course set), at rating 5. Please note that past rating 2 in any active skill, tutorsofts can only give a grounding - they can't teach the whole thing. At some point you need to practice.

Knowledge skills you can learn entirely from a chip, but that's generally less efficient than live instruction like you'd get in a classroom setting.

Subjects included, by SR4 skill:

Etiquette (Military)
Pistols
Automatics
Infiltration
Interrogation
Dodge
Unarmed Combat
Spanish
Portugese
French
UCAS Politics
Carib League Politics
UCAS Law
Carib League Law
Nautical Mechanic
Aeronautic Mechanic
First Aid
Engineering (Civil)
Hardware
Software
Data Search
Computers
Navigation
Pilot Watercraft

[Edana]

7 June 2072: 2200 EDT/0300 Zulu
[Maria Sanchez, Active Mode]
Cape May Marina, Cape May, NJ, UCAS

[ Spoiler ]

For anyone that may care to check out her profile:
Maria Sanchez, 24, native of Havana, freelance diver. Will arrange diving tours in the Caribbean, ask about package deals with Juan's Parasailing Excursions! Also available for surveying or retrieval work with the correct permits, rates negotiable.

The van in question barely comes to a complete stop before the door is flung open and a young, heavily tanned latina woman jumps out. Dressed in jeans and fitted t-shirt, she's obviously aware of the people already on the pier, but ignores them as she runs over to the edge and inhales the sea air deeply, stretches, and exults, "Finally! Real air! How people live in those insufferable conditions I'll never understand."

Apparently satisfied, she turns and walks back to the van, grabs her bag from the vehicle and slings it over her shoulder in a single quick motion before addressing the people actually standing on the pier, "Good evening, I'm Eliana", offering her hand to any who care to reciprocate. "So, who's in charge? And where do you want me to put this?" nodding to indicate her bag.

[The Goon]

7 June 2072: 2200 EDT/0300 Zulu
[Timothy Hazard, Hidden Mode]
Cape May Marina, Cape May, NJ, UCAS


Next out of the van steps a tall skinny human, carrying in one hand a large backpack with several rifles bungeed to it and in the other a full garbage bag. He is wearing a pair of dingy jeans and a faded “I'm with stupid” T-shirt, the arrow pointing down to his crotch. His hair is messily shaped into a faux-hawk but by the looks of it is held in place by natural grease rather then any kind of product. On his face is several days of growth and he wears a very retro pair of aviator sun glasses.

After a few steps he sets down his bags and watches as Eliana finishes her ocean salutation and greetings. After she finishes speaking he steps forward flashing a shit eating grin, “Hi y'all, I'm Barnyard” he raises his hand to give a slight wave to the group of other runners. “You guys been having as much fun as us the last week in jarhead heaven?”

[horvagab]

7 June 2072: 2200 EDT/0300 Zulu
[Martha Jones active]
Cape May Marina, Cape May, NJ, UCAS

Ivy breathes in the air, recognizing the scent of the sea and water, and she inadvertently smiles. Finally, back on a boat, on the open sea, just being a cog in the machine. God I missed it. Wonder what kind of crew I'm sailing with, maybe I should take a sneak peek at them. Opening her arcane senses, Ivy glimpses the auras of her fellow sailors, she's gonna bet her life on them, so she thinks getting the hang of what kind of people are they is not a bad idea.

[Minchandre]

740 EDT/1140 Zulu, 7 June 2072
[Ilana Duvdevani, Active]
MY Quicksilver: UCAS waters


Cherry finds nothing objectionable in any of the terms that Walker lays out: she's independently wealthy, so doesn't care about the take, and doesn't really know enough about naval matters - or the world at large - to speak about the cover. The bit about external communications being re-established gets here attention, though, and she doesn't even wait until the meeting's completely over before booking a train ticket from Cape May to New York City. Accompanying the ticket comes a pair of emails: one to the grandparents, and one to an old flame. Family comes first, of course. She also sets a download of all the new 'softs: reference materials are always handy.

<Babi Lisa and Zeta Sammy,

It's your favorite granddaughter! Well, no: it's actually her sister (IMG:style_emoticons/default/nyahnyah.gif)

Anyway, as you know, I'm on leave now, and I'm sending you this message because it turns out that I'll be visiting New York City for 72 hours, starting either late this evening or early tomorrow morning. I really apologize for the short warning - my travel circumstances are a little odd right now (sorry, can't talk about it - Top Secret), and I only just learned that I'd be able to get up to the City. Anyway, I was hoping that I could see you at the least, and stay with you hopefully too, though I understand that that might not be possible so last minute. Don't worry if I need to get a hotel room: I'm not sure if I told you, but my doctoral thesis got picked up by Ares, and I'm loaded! (IMG:style_emoticons/default/biggrin.gif)

Lots of love and see you soon,
Ilana>


Another message, this time in Hebrew:

<Eisenberg-

I know you're in Manhattan sometimes, so I figured you might wanna know that I'll be in New York City for 72 hours starting in about 18. I know that's kinda short notice, but c'est la vie. Anyway, I'm (hopefully) crashing with my grandparents, but I'd love to grab dinner with you or something. If you're not there, I get it: big shot Ares execs have places to be and such. But if you are, we need to catch up, and if you've got the time, I recall my grandparents being favorably inclined toward you.

Um, also - I wanted to ask this in person, but I realize we probably won't see each other so, I've got a favor to ask. There are a few items that I'd very much like to get my hands on - items that are, let us say, slightly difficult to acquired. I can't tell you why I need them, but Uncle Chaim can vouch for me if needed. If further needed, I can probably get someone else to vouch as well. I don't think I need to tell you to keep this quiet.

None of these are time sensitive, but I need the first one before I need the next two.

-First, I need a Pilot for an Aztechnology Armadillo or similar small airborne EW drone. A good one. I realize that milspec's not gonna be available, but I'd dearly appreciate the next best thing. I know for a fact you've got something like this stashed away, even if you have to dumb down the production-level software.

-Second, I want submersible recon drone. Something like the Daggerfish class the Navy use to patrol for terrorists, but I don't need all the guns and stuff.

-Finally, and this is the least important, I'd love a genuine small-scale air combat drone. I suspect that the guys I worked with in Tzahal are off the table, but I know that "civilians" are getting their hands on some surprisingly sophisticated gear.

If possible, I'd also appreciate advanced Pilots to go with each of the drones I'm asking for.

I realize this is a big request to make, but it's pretty much right up your alley, and I promise you it's for a good cause that your corporate overlords would approve of.

Hope to see you soon,
Duvdevani>


Messages done for now, Cherry settles in for the last day of training. Yay!

2200 EDT/300 Zulu, 7 ((IMG:style_emoticons/default/cool.gif) June 2072
[Ilana Duvdevani, Active]
Cape May Marina, Cape May, NJ, UCAS


Cherry joins the crew in departing the boat, clad again in her fatigues, a fairly empty duffel over her shoulder. The news of replacements is a little surprising, but last minute roster-changes are nothing new in the military, so she takes it fairly in stride. The new arrivals seem fairly innocuous, though Barnyard gathers a quick look of disapproval. She answers Eliana's question about who's in charge, not bother to wait for Salt. "He is," she says, indicating, ""Name of Salt. Unless you mean our military masters, in which case it's Captain Walker. I'm the XO, Cherry. Now, I do apologize for the brusqueness, but the last train to New York tonight leaves in half an hour and I need to make sure I'm on it." At that, she quickly departs the marina, calling a cab to take her to the train station, and from there she goes north. En route, she checks her mail, finding responses from both previously contacted parties.

<Ilana dearest,

Rachael is not our favorite. We love all of grandchildren equally, and resent the implication that we play any sort of favorites. Rachael's gifts may always have been more expensive, but yours were always more full of love.> When were old people allowed to start getting sarcastic? <Anyway, we're very happy that you're coming to see us, short notice or not, and it's absolutely ridiculous for you to consider staying in a hotel. As you said you would be arriving very late, we've told the door to let you in, and I've had Sam make up the guest bedroom. Try not to make too much noise when you come in.

Lots of love,
Babi Lisa>

Amit had also sent a message - apparently some 2 hours after hers had gone out.

<Duvdevani, it's always a pleasure to hear from you - even when you're asking enormous favors. Anyway, I unfortunately won't be able to haul out to New York. I'm actually up the well right now, not scheduled to come back down for some time.

As for the items, I'll see what I can do, but can't offer any promises. What you're asking for is some serious kit. Funnily enough, it looks like the sub is probably gonna be the easiest to get you. The programs and the UCAV, though...and you'll probably have to pay for it. I can force through some funny looking purchase orders, but I don't think I can make anything fall of the back of a van, if you catch my drift.

Keep me posted of any more requests that seem suspiciously as though you're outfitting a bunch of pirates (I would have said mercenaries, but the sub is a dead give away).

Have fun being a loser with your "gravity" and your "manasphere".

Eisenberg>

8-10 June 2072
[Ilana Duvdevani, Active]
New York, NY, UCAS and Manhattan


Cherry arrives at her grandparents in the dead of the night, but someone manages to avoid waking the alter kockers up. Aside from a quick trip to stock up on non-lethal ammo and a few discreet [OOC - I almost put discrete! (IMG:style_emoticons/default/grinbig.gif) ] but ultimately fruitless inquiries into adding a second magazine to her HVAR. At one point, her grandmother makes a comment about the young elf's fashion sense (or lack thereof), leading to the telling of a slightly redacted version of the clothing crisis that had accompanied the welcome party. A few minutes later, the party found itself in the nearest Zoé boutique purchasing some clothes "Suitable for all occasions." An hour and 2500 (IMG:style_emoticons/default/nuyen.gif) later, Cherry found herself weighed down by a suit of dark gray with a white and a lavender shirt to match. Revenge came swiftly, however, when Lisa and Sam were forced to attend an open talk at the MDC building about Matrix security.

Delis were raided, a Broadway show was seen, and much family bonding occurred ("You remember your cousin Raymond? He's a department head at Mount Sinai now!"), but 66 hours drew to a close far too quickly, and before long, the train was running back towards Cape May.

2136 EDT/236 Zulu, 10 (11) June 2072
[Ilana Duvdevani, Active]
Cape May Marina, Cape May, NJ, UCAS


Cherry makes it to the dock almost half an hour early - such are the vagaries of traveling by train - and, seeing no reason not to, proceeded to board the ship and stow her things, sending out a message to all hands. <Cherry here - I'm back on deck. Is there anything I should be appraised of?>

[Faraday]

7 June 2072: 2200 EDT/0300 Zulu
[Roger Wayne, Active Mode]
Cape May Marina, Cape May, NJ, UCAS

Roger appraises the newcomers as they greet themselves, but is polite. After Cherry introduces herself and the other officers, he chimes in. "While you might be taking orders from those folks, I'll be the guy making sure you don't die if you get yourself hurt. Name's Roger, and I'm the doctor on this boat. I'm also the, erm, Purser, which means I keep track of the money going in and out of the boat."

7-11 June 2072
Roger has a somewhat boring shore leave, having little money to spend on it and not many friends to go see. Screw you too, dad. He largely sticks to the boat and has a nice meal out on the town at one point, possibly tagging along with anyone staying in town. Otherwise, he sticks to continued study and some meditation.

2136 EDT/236 Zulu, 10 (11) June 2072
While in the middle of playing a last-century tetris emulation, Roger gets the message from Cherry. <Roger: I had a nice surf and turf dinner last night. Just thought you should know.>

[horvagab]

7 June 2072: 2200 EDT/0300 Zulu
[Martha Jones active]
Cape May Marina, Cape May, NJ, UCAS

Some magical types, no mages, and an overall feeling of fatigue is what Ivy gets from her brief scan, no surprises there. Well, better introduce myself and get this ball rolling. She nods towards the XO, not having enough time for a regular greeting, but then to the crew: "It seems I'm your mage. Name's Ivy as far as most of the crew's concerned, those who need to know probably have my file already. I served some time in the Royal Navy, and that's the standard I'm holding this crew and everybody, including myself." Then she turns towards Salt "When and where do I start, sir?"

[Edana]

7 June 2072: 2200 EDT/0300 Zulu
[Maria Sanchez, Active Mode]
Cape May Marina, Cape May, NJ, UCAS

"Doctor and in charge of the money? Sounds like my new best friend. Want to go get some drinks?" Eliana grins at Roger and winks. "A little more seriously, I've got a bit of medical training myself, so don't be shy about asking if you need any help." She smiles again, continuing, "And I mean it about the drinks, marines are absolutely full of fun when you're barely getting 6 hours of sleep and all, but I could use a break about now. Goes for anyone else interested, especially if you know of any place good around here."

7-11 June 2072
Anyone staying on or near the boat quickly comes to the conclusion that Eliana ascribes to 'work hard, play harder' as a philosophy. As she lacks any kind of roots in the city, she spends her leave time alternately digging through the ship inspecting systems and layout, studying the materials provided and familiarizing herself with her new 'home', followed by afternoon periods of sunbathing on the deck, and, some might say excessive, drinking at night. She happily invites anyone else staying aboard on her excursions, glad to spend time with people not trying to run her into the ground. She does at least make sure not to drink too much on the last night of leave, so she's not hungover when it comes time to ship out.

2136 EDT/236 Zulu, 10 (11) June 2072
She receives Cherry's message while sitting on the sun deck looking out over the ocean and nursing a beer with anyone else interested in spending the last of their free time just hanging out. She sends a quick message back: <Welcome back. You missed some fun times, hope NY was good. On the sun deck, come have a drink!>

[Dumori]

7 June 2072: 2200 EDT/0300 Zulu
[Robert Mitchell, Active Mode]
Cape May Marina, Cape May, NJ, UCAS

Sharky tries to make time to say hello to each of the newcomers but first he makes a general statement "Right, I'm Sharky, Rob, Mitch what ever you call me I'm this ships quartermaster so I have the fun of making sure all your toys are solid, secure and safe. As well as fixing up any damage to them and or your armour. And I guess if push really come to shove I can help fix you up as well I've had field medic training. Sharky seemingly egea to get a look ad any weaponry the brought at some time though you can't quite tell if its out of pure gun nuttery or a sense of duty and wanting to know what he'll be working with. He will happly talk about guns to any who share his passion. After the meet and greet he sends a quick message to the nearest member of his smuggling ring.
<Hey, Sharky here I need you to hook me up with 10 pepper punch loaded splash 'nades ASAP doable?>


7-11 June 2072
The time Sharky doesn't spend in the armoury or his quarters he spends in the wardroom, sundeck or swimming. Most of his free time is spent almost pointless maintaining his guns, it seams to either be a startrgy to cope with waiting or a form of meditation for him, or booting up simsense tutor softs to carry one where he left off in the 7days in transit. He will happy join Roger on his meal if invited.

2136 EDT/236 Zulu, 10 (11) June 2072
While in the middle of recalibrating his sniper rifle, after striping down and checking every moving part for defects that in his eye hasn't been quite the same since he took it apart to board the ship. He received the message from Cherry <Welcome back hope you had a good time. Sharky.>

[The Goon]

7 June 2072: 2200 EDT/0300 Zulu
[Timothy Hazard, Hidden Mode]
Cape May Marina, Cape May, NJ, UCAS

Get some drinks... some drinks... drinks... the beautiful words float in the air as if sung by a heavenly choir. Barnyard's eyes loose focus staring into nothingness as the gravity of what he believes to be his situation begins to settle in.

I'm going to be paid to take a boat trip around The Gulf and Caribbean, on permanent happy hour, and I might even get to shoot at some folks.

As his focus comes back to the meeting at hand, Sharky mentions "Toys" and peaks eagerly at Barnyard's guns.

Yep, I think I'm going to like it here.


7-11 June 2072

Without a dollar to his name Barnyard is stuck on the boat, but makes the most of his time. He drinks heavily with and without Eliana, sleeps most of the days away, talks guns with Sharky, sleeps outside in a self made bunk and tells far too many stories about life growing up on the farm. Still, even with his busy schedule he manages to find time to give the ship a good once over and even go for a swim or two. By the 11th the man is starting to get restless staring at the dock and can't wait to get out on the open sea.

[Penta]

<OOC: Some godmodding. I hope you all forgive me for this - normally I'll try to let you control your own characters during "cut-scenes" like this. - GM>
11 June 2072, 0600 EDT/1000 Zulu: MY Quicksilver: Docked, Cape May, NJ

It was an early day for Quicksilver's crew, as they rose with the seagull's cry and the sailing of the fishermen heading out to sea. Shore leave being complete, the team members who'd had stuff to do over the previous 3 days boarded and raised the gangway, within 15 minutes releasing their lines from the dock (where they'd gotten a free refill of their fuel and water tanks and free reprovisioning, courtesy of a "Mr. Jones" according to the marina), weighing anchor, and slowly pulling away from the pier where they'd been berthed.

Their first destination was a point 30 kilometers southeast of Cape May, well out into international waters. Upon reaching that point 2 and a half hours later, a brief burst transmission, encrypted, was made by the comms officer to a satellite orbiting overhead.
***
11 June 2072, 0830 EDT/1230 Zulu:

In Suitland, Maryland, this transmission caused a comm terminal to beep with an incoming message.

A Navy Petty Officer tore the printed message off the thermal printer (where it was printed on flashpaper) and brought it into the office next door after knocking on the doorframe (the door was open).

"Captain," he announced, "New message traffic from crew Alpha-One on project ALFRED. They report themselves to be clear of port and posted at Waypoint Alpha, eager and ready to proceed with their assigned orders. Authenticator is Alpha Whiskey X-Ray One Niner Lima Oscar Foxtrot. Authenticator matches the posted daily sign, sir. I confirm the message as authentic."

The Captain took the message. "I read the authenticator as Alpha Whiskey X-Ray, One Niner, Lima Oscar Foxtrot. I confirm the message as authentic. Note it in the comms log, Petty Officer."

"Noted in the log, sir."

"Understood," the Captain replied. "Alert Lieutenant Commander Roberts, and begin setting up a videoconference from Conference Room 1 for 15 minutes from now with Crew Alpha One."
The message was then burned in a small ashtray on his desk, and the ashes were dumped in the classified waste basket.
***
11 June 2072: 0845 EDT/1245 Zulu:

Fifteen minutes later, the conference room's blank wall appeared on the holoprojector on the Quicksilver's bridge. Lieutenant Commander Roberts sat at the table in service khakis.

"Greetings, Quicksilver. I hope you enjoyed your shore leave. Now, for your latest intel brief. Chantico's Bounty is currently steaming in the mid-Atlantic, under the discreet observation of Submarine Force Atlantic assets. Satellite take and latest positioning info as of 1200 Zulu is being downloaded to you now, along with any analysis from SUBLANT. The Cipher is Psalm 18:39.

"Our best guess right now is that she'll be passing between Antigua and Montserrat in one week. At that point, SUBLANT will cease tracking her - I advise being in position to shadow her by that point. You may use your discretion so far as the shadowing and attack process goes, consistent with your orders. Keep in mind that Montserrat is owned by Wuxing, and Antigua by Horizon - both maintain small surveillance posts on the islands along with their other operations, and both are considered to have decent relations with Aztlan and Aztechnology. In public, anyway.

"Are there any questions? Please, for the sake of transmission time, keep it brief."

If there are questions, Roberts will attempt to answer them. If there are not (or when the question-and-answer is done), you hear the following:

"Further briefs, to save transmission time, will work like this: At 1200 Zulu each day, we'll drop the brief in a Matrix dropbox. It'll either be text or video, and may or may not include attachments - it will always be password protected, openable with the day's authenticator. The cipher is used to provide an extra layer of security to the attachments, and the day's cipher will be mentioned in the message. I suggest being quick about getting to it, as unopened messages will self-destruct 30 minutes after being left. Other matrix drops will be used for communications to us. The authenticators are the cards in the individual foil packets in the safe, marked with dates. They cycle daily at 0800 EDT, as does the cipher for any attached information. After the authenticator's day is up, shred the card it's on, then burn the remains.

"You've got enough authenticators for a month. When they're close to being used up, let us know. If you're in danger of capture, destroy the authenticators.

"With that? Good luck and good hunting, Quicksilver. Roberts clear."

And then the transmission ends.

---
OOC notes, trivia, etc:

Trivia:
Psalms are numbered differently in the Septuagint (Greek) and the Hebrew versions. Here's the text that is the cipher, at least as it's rendered in the King James Version: "For thou hast girded me with strength unto the battle: thou hast subdued under me those that rose up against me." The exact rendering is unimportant OOCly, but I figured it'd be neat trivia.

ALFRED is the name of the first ship commissioned into the Continental Navy. Its first Master was one John Paul Jones. No, you do not know that that's the project name.
---
Notes:

Trying to trace this transmission back to source, by the way, would fail miserably: The lag alone suggests it's being routed through multiple satellites so as to hide the source of the transmission.

Yes, this is a copy-replace of the post I used with fedallah. You guys need to know more, but...If you don't ask...(IMG:style_emoticons/default/smile.gif)

[The Goon]

Barnyard stares blankly at his "commanding" officers waiting for them to start talking with command or open the floor to questions...

After an eternity Barnyard lets out an audible sign thinking to himself, here goes nothing.

Raising his hand and starting to speak almost simultaneously Barnyard rapid fire starts with his questions:

"What kind of resistance can we expect, is this a booze cruse or heavily armed corp/PMCs? Will they be expecting trouble? Any intel on mojo?

Once we get the boat is this a "no witnesses" kind of op?

What do yall want from the boat? Is it big, small, explosive? Can we still retrieve it if they scuttle they boat? Do they know that someone else wants what they have?

Or is there nothing on-board that is needin' savin'? Money aside, could we just shwack the whole boat if things get too messy?"

Man they shouldn't let me talk.

[Penta]

<OOC: This post was delayed 12 hours because every time I tried to write it, my puppy licked my toes and wanted to play. The puppy is now being handled by parents today, so I can write.(IMG:style_emoticons/default/smile.gif) >

Roberts went looking off into the distance as Barnyard spoke, in the fashion of someone pulling something from AR.

"Okay, to try and answer that scattershot of questions, here's some basic data on the Chantico's Bounty compiled by ONI," he began, as everybody on the Quicksilver had their commlink beep.

What appeared without introduction:
---
OFFICE OF NAVAL INTELLIGENCE
NATIONAL MARITIME INTELLIGENCE CENTER
SUITLAND, MD

(TS) DATA REPORT, MV CHANTICO'S BOUNTY

Name: MV Chantico's Bounty
Flag State: Aztlan
Owner: Sol Atlantico, Ltd.
Type: Container Ship
Length: 134 meters
Beam: 17 meters
Draft: <uh, pick a number that sounds right, I have no idea how to calculate a proper draft. - GM>
Net Tonnage: <Same as with draft, figuring this out is confusing. - GM>
Gross Tonnage: <See Net Tonnage. - GM>
Capacity: 10000 TEU
Crew Complement: 12
Passengers: 20

<There's further data, of course, this is just the highlights. - GM>
---

Roberts then continues. "As you all can see, MV Chantico's Bounty is a 134-meter freighter registered to a subsidiary of a company controlled by the Aztlan State, through a horde of shell companies. It's your average container ship...What's key is what's in those containers. We're not especially sure. She's sailing on an Africa-Aztlan route, uniquely not in convoys, so she's either carrying something very spooky, very unique, very perishable...Or very, very illegal. Our running guess is that, given she was coming from Nigeria, she may be carrying slaves. For what purpose in Aztlan is something we're very interested in finding out. Could as easily be for human sacrifice as sex or wage slavery. Your mission is a simple one: Find that ship - we do know that she's scheduled to dock in Veracruz in about three weeks - intercept her, ascertain the nature of her cargo after capture. We can't tell you about security, particularly on the thaumaturgical end, because we simply do not know.

"If the cargo is found to be slaves, you will contact us immediately. Allow me to emphasize that immediately. We will then begin the process to direct you and your prize ship to a friendly port where the ex-slaves can be cared for. We will then officially condemn the ship as a slaver, deal with the crew according to law, and proceed according to admiralty law. Chances are, the ship will be sold and you'll be credited with a portion of the value at auction as you would a standard capture - not enough to pay the whole thing off, Chantico's Bounty is a thirty-year-old ship, but it'd possibly put a dent in your loan. If it isn't sold, and is instead taken up by the government, you'll be credited a portion of the fair market value up to two hundred thousand nuyen. Until you reach port with any slaves, you guys will be expected to care for them, and the ship's crew who'll be your prisoners, humanely. If, along the way, you can get people to talk and figure out what the slaves were meant for, we'll pay easily fifty-thousand nuyen per crewmember for statements gathered such that they're admissible in court. No, you won't be required to testify - DOJ will handle any information you gather as though it were gathered from intelligence sources for purposes of criminal procedure. Me or Captain Walker will be the one appearing in court. The idea here is to turn the crew to finger the next level up, but if we can't do that, we will gladly try the crew on applicable charges.

"If it's not slaves, you'll be allowed to capture the ship and fence it and the cargo however you like. If it's a mixed cargo, well, we'll take the slaves and the ship off your hands, and let you fence the cargo however you will. We'll figure out a way to explain its absence to the judge, probably the manifest will be falsified by the crew anyway, so hopefully we won't have to lie and risk the case."

Roberts paused to let what he'd said sink in - it was a torrent of info, after all - and moved on.

"You guys might reasonably ask, given the whole prosecution angle, why we're using you guys to make the capture. The reason is that while we suspect a fair amount about Chantico's Bounty, we don't know a whole hell of a lot with much certainty past that data sheet - which is for the most part made up of unclassified information, except for the TS-level ownership and crew and passenger numbers, because we didn't get those bits from open sources. If it's slaves it carries, we want to make the capture and stick it to the Azzies. If it's not, we want to know just what the fuck it is carrying that merits not travelling the normal convoys and trade lanes. It could be some hot new product for commercial release, or it could be something else."

Another pause as he pulled up something else from AR.

"Moving on, some quick rules of engagement, in ten-point form:

"First off, you are to capture the crew alive if at all possible, so that they may be tried before a jury in a federal district court if they are holding slaves. Related to that, you do not dare use torture to gather information from said crew - even if you may want to. Don't even use spells. Either method gets the evidence suppressed in court. DOJ is salivating over the chance to roast the Azzies for slavery, and they want a conviction that survives the appeals process.

"Secondly, if they are indeed holding slaves: Separate them. Separate the crew from the slaves, separate male from female, and try to separate kids from adults. Prevents bad things from happening.

"Thirdly: Do try not to sink the ship. Even accidentally. As SECNAV - who happens to be the descendant of slaves, and is taking a personal interest in the case, put it to me: 'We want the damn ship presentable, to be able to go 'Nyah nyah' to the Azzies.' Rather immature of him to put it that way, I think, but I agree with the underlying sentiment," Roberts noted with a grin.

"Fourth: Record all interrogations and encounters with the crew and the slaves on audio and video. Don't do stuff alone, that's a quick route to being accused of misconduct. Two people for any dealings if at all possible."

"Fifth: Before any interrogations...It isn't required by our lawyers, because you aren't technically 'state agents'...But it is strongly recommended that you Mirandize your suspects. We don't have it ready right now, but will, while you are en route to the Caribbean, send you details on how to conduct an interrogation the FBI clean teams don't have to work on, or at least minimally have to clean up. We will also, as a separate document, send you our requirements for an interrogation of intelligence value. If they lawyer up, they go to wherever you're holding em and are left undisturbed, so far as interrogations go, until they reach port."

"Sixth: We ask that you record everything you can, audio and video, from the moment you sight the Chantico's Bounty through to the completion of capture, defined as when all resistance has been supressed. This is not required for payment, but will primarily be how we debrief you guys. A debrief without unedited audio and video takes a lot longer."

"Seventh: If the cargo is not slaves, you're free to do with the ship and crew as you will. We recommend keeping the crew alive for PR and intel value, but you don't have to. We'll help in fencing any non-metahuman cargo if there's a mixed manifest. If there are absolutely no slaves, you guys get to fence the ship with our help, but the cargo is your problem, unless we determine it to be of value to us."

"Eighth: When you capture the ship, try to get a copy of all documents and electronic data that may be aboard. This goes especially for the ship's manifests - the nominal one they present to port authorities or any coast guard that stops em, and the real one they use for operational purposes. We need both of the manifests, and other ship's paperwork to prove the ship is who we say it is and was doing what we say it was doing to the courts - especially to any jury that might hear the case if we prosecute anybody."

"Ninth: As an exception to point one, if the crew fights back...We would prefer you not kill them. Especially if the ship is carrying slaves. But if they happen to die in combat, it's okay.

"Tenth: If the cargo is slaves, you are permitted and encouraged to undertake a friendly interrogation of them, if possible. Same rules as with the crew, but no need to Mirandize them. We also recommend, and this is primarily for Roger and anyone who might assist him, conducting a census of the slaves immediately to determine your requirements to care for them. This includes potentially running rape and sexual assault kits on anyone who even hints at the issue. Roger, the necessary supplies for kits for up to 500 persons are stored in your medical bay. Obviously, handle it like potential forensic evidence; we can easily tack rape charges on for the crew if need be."

"That ends your ROE for this mission. If you find any targets of opportunity and have the crew and resources to grab erm? Go ahead, so long as their flag state is on the cleared targets list that was with your orders.

"Final details: Comms. You guys got encryption chips and authenticators from me before we left you at Cape May. These are to be stored in the provided safe on the bridge - it's a dual-lock safe requiring palmprints from two separate people. Those two people keep 'eyes on' the crypto at all times when it is out of the safe, from the moment the safe is opened to the moment it is closed again. If it is compromised, contact us through a provided matrix dropbox ASAP. You'll often communicate with us through encrypted messages sent through matrix dropboxes. You'll get messages back from us that include authentication codes - if they don't, it's fake, and should be ignored. Real-time comms are possible, through certain commcodes we will give. We expect these to be encrypted. Contact us on an unsecure channel, and we dun know you. Also, we meant it when we said 'immediately' if there are slaves - by immediately we mean within fifteen minutes of capture being complete. No comms and we may think you've gone rogue, Captain Walker warns, because we're not unaware of just how much slaves can bring on the market."

"Anyone else have questions?" Roberts asks. "Because yes, the way we do things, we really do mean for you to ask questions. There is no such thing as a stupid question...Only the question stupidly left unasked." This is said seriously, but it's apparent Roberts is amused to be saying it.

<OOC: If I've missed anything, Goon, tell me on the OOC thread and I'll post an addendum here. Yes, Minchandre, the point about asking questions is directed squarely at Cherry.(IMG:style_emoticons/default/smile.gif) >

[Xahn Borealis]

Jackson looks dumbfounded at the infodump, but after a few minutes to collate what was said into AR while ongoing, he asks, "When you say free to do with as we will, could we... hold on to this Bouncy Chico for ourselves for this operation?" It is not immediately clear if he intentionally got the name wrong.


[OOC: Is it too late to post the training montage and shore leave section?]