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Old 08-18-2007, 08:04 PM   #1
Agemegos
 
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Default 9,401, an SF thriller

9,401
an SF thriller/police procedural
The date is 3033 AD: 630 years after the destruction of Earth. In the colony Cockaigne, on the planet CD -40°898 II, the 'recipients' demand either liberty or death. The Commune is not inclined to give them liberty. The Empire is not prepared to let them die.

On a world descending into flames, a lone crackpot pleads for justice. With a billion lives at stake, what are you prepared to do?


This is the thread for in-character postings and other game-play in 9,401. The corresponding thread for commentary, chatter, queries, and kibbitzing is [OOC] 9,401: an SF thriller. Will non-players please post there, not here.

PARTICIPANTS
Agemegos (GM)
dscheidt : (Lieutenant Ashbless)
Icelander : (Inspector Thórrson)
Rupert : (Special Agent Ishikawa)
sir_pudding : (Corporal Naiooka)
zorg : (Special Agent Lethe)
The game is not open.


BRIEFING

Information about the situation and setting are available on the 9,401 website.

Notes on NPCs encountered, institutions investigated &c. in the course of the adventure are in the quick reference thread.


PROCEDURE

I will post substantive GM postings at about 10:00 Australian Eastern Time on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, which is to say approximately 00:01 ZULU, Monday, Wedneday, and Friday. I will then leave 36 hours for all players to respond: I may make minor responses, but nothing that will substantially advance the plot or change the situation until everyone has had a chance to put their bit in. At 12:00 each Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday I will start analysing the new situation and drafting my next substantive posts: I will not guarantee that player posts after the deadline will be taken into account.

Player posts may be in first or third person. Narrative goes in plain text. Speech may be either reported or quoted, as seems good to you. Direct quotes should be in block-indented italics, and headed with the name of the character speaking in boldface, not indented. Where necessary, an indication of the character being addressed goes in parentheses after the name of the character speaking, in plain type. E.g.

Supt. St. Ives (to Thórrson)
Tell me, Inspector. Why does your crime scene expert keep a bloody machine-gun in her aircar trunk?
Thórrson
It wouldn't be secure in the passenger cab, sir.
You may insert routine dialogue for minor NPCs as far as you feel confident in doing so. The worst that can happen is that I ask you to revise, right?

I will be handling all game mechanics (die-rolls etc.) myself. Players should give a statement of intent in world terms. I will translate it into game mechanics, apply the resolution system, and report the results. Game mechanics may be recorded between "fnord" tags, in case anyone is interested.

I will accept conditional statements of intent. Feel free to outline tactics as far in advance as seems good to you: I will resolve ahead as far as seems good to me. e.g. "Ashbless gets behind solid cover as quickly as she can, draws her pistol, and takes out her datastick with her left hand. She plugs the gadget into her visor, angles the head, and reaches it around the corner. If it is clear to do so, or when it becomes clear, she'll stick her head and gun around the corner, take a bead on the door, and offer to cover whomever wants to advance. If any of the oppo show a body part she'll make a hole in it the size of a softball."

Commencement in 22 hours from this posting.
__________________

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Nod head. Get treat.

Last edited by Agemegos; 09-08-2007 at 01:24 AM. Reason: link to quick reference thread
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Old 08-19-2007, 04:28 PM   #2
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Default Re: 9,401, an SF thriller

Is everyone sitting nicely? Then we'll begin….
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Old 08-19-2007, 05:58 PM   #3
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Default Prelude

Prelude

Exterior, false dawn

It is the hour between dawn and sunrise. About 1500 protestors in recipient blue are camped outside the north-east gate of the Imperial Residence on Cockaigne, with a gradually thinning wing stretched out along the perimeter fence to either side. About two kilometres west, where the Residence perimeter meets the spaceport perimeter, there is another small clot, of about two hundred. The night has been long and cool, and there has been, apparently, no-one to protest to. Moreover, the crushed security vegetation releases soporific fumes, and most of the protestors have been breathing them for eighteen hours or more. They are huddled miserably, and most of their slogan-daubed and scarlet banners are lying on the ground.

Without apparent stimulus, one figure separates itself from the group near the junction of the two fences. Pumping at the air with one fist, it runs to the Residence fence and shouts at the camera-post. After a pause of about ten seconds, the crowd take up the cry of "Justice! Justice!", and also rush the fence, shaking their fists in the air. A crush builds up against the fence, and the first figure starts to climb, boosted from below.

Then the fenceposts start glowing red, indicating a dangerous pressure. After a few seconds the fence gives way, so engineered as to prevent anyone being crushed to death. The screamers come on with a shriek like an ice-pick, and some of the mob start behaving erratically, tripping, falling, and staggering with their hands over their ears. But the ringleader picks himself up and starts running across the glacis of the Residence, picking his feet up high to avoid tripping in the tanglefoot weed. Over half the mob follow him.

Four minutes later, the ringleader arrives at the second fence, which is at the top of the counterscarp. Here he repeats his performance, shouting, inaudibly over the screamers, at the nearest camera. His movements are in this case noticably less vigorous, as though he were fatigued, or the soporific fumes of the vegetation were starting to have their effect. The mob join him in dribs and drabs, and again the fenceposts start glowing red to indicate a dangerous pressure. But this fence is not engineered to give way: the fall into the ditch might inflict severe and even fatal injuries. Instead, marines on the scarp open fire with heavy automatic stun-cannon. The protestors fall in a writhing, screaming heap.

Two fireteams of the marines guard cross the ditch and second fence on personal flyers, one east and one west of the protester. From each team, two marines go to ground outside the second fence, while two fly off to the north to patrol the glacis. After a minute or so protestors start struggling to their feet and running or hobbling away to the north. When almost all have started moving, four more marines cross the ditch and fence to the site of the incident. One is wearing the insignia of a sublieutenant, another those of sergeant. The four marines sweep the area, and the officer finds a figure prone in the tanglefoot weed. A call, a gesture. One marine is a medic, and starts applying rescusitation equipment.

An ambulance lands. Medics disembark. The corpse in the tanglefoot is pronounced dead.

The pumpkin-coloured sun, close and cool, begins a sluggish transit of the horizon. By the time it has dragged itself above the mountains the military police are there in force.

The Regimental Provost chases everyone off the scene, and sets two privates to surrounding it with poles and 'crime scene' tape. He takes out his datastick and, carefully photographing everything before he sets foot on it, makes his way to the body. The victim is lying on his back with his chin and palms up. His jacket and flies are open, his shoes are missing, and his undershirt has been cut open down the front. The whole face is covered by a bruise which is still darkening, two similar bruises, each as round as a breakfast plate and surrounded by a ring, discolour the front of his torso. The officer photographs the body in situ, then squats to examine it. He does not like what he finds behind the ear.

Lt. free Grail
****, damn, and blast!
(to his provost-sergeant)
Dammit, Staff, this is a murder.
(to the nearest MP corporal, who happens to be Mzilikaze)
Take three marines and tell Ath and her sergeant to confine themselves to their quarters and to speak to no-one until they are debriefed. Send your other fireteam to round up her medic and batman and the two marines off the wall, to be confined to quarters until debriefed.
(to the next-nearest MP corporal, Wang)
Send two marines to get a statement from each of those Home Office ambulance types. Don't forget to tell them that what they say will be recorded and used in evidence.
Lt. free Grail gazes off to the north, where marines are re-erecting the first fence. The protestor are long gone into colonial jurisdiction.

Lt. free Grail
Dammit!
He fires up his netlink and calls the Department of Justice office.

Lt. free Grail
Thórrson? Grail here, Regimental Provost. I've got a deader on the glacis, and all my suspects have vanished off the base. I'd like to hand the case over to you.



No, a protestor. They broke down the north fence, and got stunned by Guard at the top of the glacis. But they were out again before we found the body.



Possibly, but I don't think so. I'd need a pathologist to be sure. I think he was killed up close and personal.



I'll have you met at sally port number five.
He turns to his remaining corporal.

Lt. free Grail (to his Naiooka)
Naiooka, the Department of Justice are going to handle this one. Meet Inspector Thórrson at sally port number five and bring him and his people here.
Naiooka
Aye-aye, Lieutenant.
__________________

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Nod head. Get treat.

Last edited by Agemegos; 12-03-2009 at 04:03 PM.
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Old 08-19-2007, 06:13 PM   #4
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Default Re: 9,401, an SF thriller

Cpl. Naiooka does a quick check to make sure his uniform is squared away, and swiftly walks to sally port five. When he gets to the gate he quickly scans the area for threats, exchanges appropriate greetings with the gate guard (if any) and then stands at ease.

When the DoJ personnel arrive he snaps to attention and salutes. After the Inspector acknowledges:

Naiooka
Inspector Thórrson? Follow me, please sir.
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Old 08-19-2007, 06:41 PM   #5
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Default Re: 9,401, an SF thriller

Inspector Thórrson took the call while in his office, catching up on the week's paperwork.

He acknowledges Lt. free Grail's request and tells him he'll be there as soon as possible. Then he calls Lt. Ashbless:

Thórrson
Sulanne, I need a crime scene expert at sally port five of the 'Residence. Meet you there in five?

We'll also need Ishikawa, so she'll get a feel for the principals and Lethe can go over the survaillance feed on scene.

---

Oh, and Sulanne... If you get there before me, try not to snap too hard at anyone.
Thórrson gathers up his stuff and takes a DoJ aircar to the sally port. He could probably rustle up a driver, but he likes to drive himself. Gives him a better feel for the layout of the place.

When he gets there, he gets out of the car and walks to the Marine guard stationed there. He can't remember his name and that vaguely troubles him, but new Marines have been streaming into the post and no one can remember everything. Or that's how he justifies it to himself as he makes a point of noting the name tag on his uniform, for later reference.

Thórrson
Good morning, Corporal. Nasty business?
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Last edited by Icelander; 08-20-2007 at 03:16 AM.
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Old 08-19-2007, 07:23 PM   #6
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Default Re: 9,401, an SF thriller

Naiooka
Good morning, sir. It's been a busy morning. Lt. free Grail instructed me to direct your team to the crime scene.

Last edited by sir_pudding; 08-19-2007 at 07:31 PM.
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Old 08-19-2007, 07:31 PM   #7
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Default Re: 9,401, an SF thriller

Naiooka reports by netlink that the Inspector has arrived and they are standing by for the rest of his team.
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Old 08-19-2007, 07:40 PM   #8
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Default Re: 9,401, an SF thriller

Ashbless gets the call while she's preparing for her morning workout.

Ashbless:

Inspector. What's the situation?
---
Hmm. That sounds like a messy scene, alright. I'll get Athene and Osiris on it.
---
Wouldn't think of it, Inspector. I only eat heads after breakfast, anyway.


Ashbless quickly dons her uniform, checking she has all her usual kit, carefully checking that her sidearm is loaded, and batteries show an acceptable state of charge. While trotting to her aircar, she calls Athene.
Ashbless:

Athene, we're on a homicide. I don't know who the vic is, apparently a protester at the Residence. The provos have detained a couple of their guard. Go see what they've got to say. Don't let 'em know their suspects, eh?


As she arrives at her car, she takes a quick walk around it. She climbs in, instructs the autopilot to take her to the sally port. Then she calls Lethe.

Ashbless:

Osiris. Good morning.

---
Homicide. Yeah, it'd be nice if we could get them to happen in business hours. See what the surv cams show. Thórrson is going to want background on the guy, too, of course.



When she hangs up the phone, she takes manual control of the car, and flies the rest of the way to the port. She comes in for a landing at just a touch faster and steeper than the regulations allow. Thórrson's car arrives as she's getting out of her own. She acknowledges the marine with a curt nod (are we supposed to return salutes from them? If so, she will.) She begins taking her gear out of her trunk.



Ashbless:

Corporal. Can you help me hump this junk?

Inspector. What do we know?


With that, she and the rest of the group start walking towards the scene.
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Old 08-19-2007, 07:57 PM   #9
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Default Re: 9,401, an SF thriller

Nodding good morning to his team of investigators, Thórrson follows Corporal Naiooka to the scene.

Thórrson (to Ashbless)
At the moment, we know nothing at all. A protestor died, Lt. free Grail thinks it's murder.
Thórrson (to Lethe)
Which reminds me; get me everything we have on the vic, get me camfeed of the protest and get the ID of everyone visible on it. Then pull everything we have on them.
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Old 08-19-2007, 07:58 PM   #10
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Default Re: 9,401, an SF thriller

Naiooka (to Ashbless):
Aye, ma'am.


He then helps her unload and carry her gear while leading them to the crime scene.

Last edited by sir_pudding; 08-19-2007 at 08:06 PM.
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