Plan B - A Risk Worth Taking

[Silver]

Freeport One. One of the most secure bases in Sirius, stage to a massive number of battles, countless bloodshed and shady meetings

That's where aerelm's supposed to be meetin with Silver, and he's arrived a bit early so he's enjoyin a drink at bar. A crimson robed masked figure entered the bar. Immediatly, the present corsairs found themselves in a very stiff and conspicious posture and quickly left the bar.

Aerelm's halfway through his cig when he notices the figure, and based on what he had heard and the sairs reaction it wasnt hard to guess who it is. So shaking his head with a short chuckle he lets the smoke out through his nose and pretends he hasnt noticed the newcomer.

The figure bowed and delivered a small message. By the accent, it was rheinlander.

"Santa Muerte asks for you to follow me."
"Tell Santa Muerte smoking is forbidden in the corridors so she has to give me a minute or two"
"These cigarettes dont come cheap you know. Finest libertonian blend."
The figure removed the cigar from Aerelm's mouth and extinguished it with its foot.

"Santa Muerte has a tight schedule. If you have your huevos that full, then you do not need this meeting."

The mask glinted against the light and started to turn.

"If you desire, i can relay to Santa Muerte that you are not that interested."
Shaking his head with another chuckle, aerelm gets up, and followed the figure.

"People around here are too tense, you bunch really need to relax a bit, try enjoying life just for a change."
The figure replied as it walked to the exit.
"I am dead, Herr Aerelm."
Raising an eyebrow, aerelm replies,

"Well, afterlife, in your case."

'Freaks..!' telling himself in a low enough voice not to be heard.
Suddenly two more figures appeared after they exited the bar.

The security detail, with the symbol of the Reaver Merc. Co., didn't even nudged at the sight of the robed masked figures.

"Please, do follow." The same robed figure replied.
"Yea I already am." Aerelm replies with a shrug and an indifferent tone, following the figure silently.
As they stopped near one of the elevators, the doors opened and the figure extended her hand in an invitation gesture.

The other two figures entered and placed themselves at the end of the elevator.

"Please." The figure asked.

A Reaver Merc. Co. Heavy Mech passed through the corridor alongside its escorts, all armed to the teeth.
Throwing a quick look around before entering the elevator, he tells himself

"Would've felt much less outgunned if I had just marched into Tripoli myself" then stops at the center of the evelator, turning to face the door again.
The elevator ringed, and the atmosphere tensed up as the figure headed to the numpad to select the floor.

"We are the Los Trece. Santa Muerte's personal bodyguards. We are taking you to a special place in this station. Not a word of it will come out of your mouth ever. If such happens, a rumor, a tidbit, a story is heard... Santa Muerte has given us permission to hunt you and extinguish the life from your eyes."

The mask turned to Aerelm after entering a complicated set of floors into the elevator numpad.

"Do you understand?"
"For all I care, we're still at the bar. Go ahead."
The elevator ringed again and a mechanical voice was heard.

"Code accepted."

Several laser gun turrets appeared from the walls of the elevator as it started the voyage.

"State the password." The computer voice said. "You have ten seconds."

The figure cleared its throat and replied: "Assumptions are the mother of all fuck-ups."

There was another ring and the guns retracted.

"Password accepted."
"Yeah, would've definitely felt much less outgunned on Tripoli." Aerelm tells himself while looking at the turrets retract.

The elevator stopped and the doors opened. A whole three levels of the Freeport appeared. High as it could get. Ships getting repaired. Technicians running. Hover transports carrying ship guns of all sort and shape. A whole detachment of a security group doing push-ups as they sang a bawdy song.

"There was a man called Dave
Who kept a dead whore in a cave
He said "I admit
I am a bit of a shit
But think of the money I save."

Two mechs stationed at the entrance trailed their guns and issued a question.

"Business?"

"Meeting. Los Trece. Aerelm. Today." Said one of the figures. This one now, with a Libertonian accent.

The mechs stood in their place for a couple of seconds and then returned to their prone position. "All clear."

The figures motioned Aerelm to follow them to another elevator and they quickly found themselves in a meeting room with a big window that had the view to see all of that gigantic bay.

A big table was there, with several long chairs around. One of them was spinnning left and right in an easy pace, while the occupant was viewing the scene, with the back turned to the entrance.

The three Los Trece bowed and left, closing the door. "Welcome, bub." A soft, velvety voice said.

"A nice little nest you've made for yourself here, Silver." aerelm comments, looking around the room "Can't say you don't deserve it, but can't say it suits my taste either."
"Ain't mine." She circled the chair so she could face Aerelm. "It's the company's. And 'bout deserving it... Well. You ain't one to talk, am i 'bout rite?"

"You know..." aerelm pulls a chair at the opposite end of the table and sits down "You did a pretty impressive work on that Jack kid, I have to admit. Never expected to find him in a place like that. I bet he told you about the deal I've been trying to work out with you?"

Silver grabbed a cretan cigar from her pocket and lit it up. She exhaled the smoke and looked at Aerelm.

"No. He didn't. The ones that saw you, did." She smirked.

"Yeah.. I gave up on that whole privacy thing. Trying to get some in the world we live in is pretty much pointless." He comments with a casual shrug.

Silver chuckled. "Youd ocked in Freeport Five, after all. You can't pop a smoke there without 'sairs knowin' 'bout it." She looked at Aerelm and asked. "So. Do tell me. I want to hear it from you first, love. Business is so much clearer this way."

"Its el Freeporto Cinco after all, one can one do?" He says with a chuckle and continues without a pause.

"Let me give you the short version. I know a friend who's, well... Let's say he's a bit of a tech-maniac with loads of cash. He wants a Gladiator, and not just the ship itself, but the prints too, so he can modifty it or whatever the hell he calls modifyin anyway. He's asked me to get him the ship and the print, so here I am."

Silver raised an eyebrow and in the disbelief kind of way. "Bullcrap."

aerelm reclines, staring at Silver as he crosses his arms. "Yup, was hoping you won't buy that story. Jack said you can get me on Tripoli, but the main question is, Can you? Because if you do, grabbin the prints shouldn't be that big of a deal on my own."

"Bullcraaaaap." Silver singed the word.

She smoked and looked at Aerelm.

"Now kiddo. We do this my way or no-way. Spill them beans or get lost."

Leaning forward and staring right into Silver's eyes, he says in a less friendly tone. "Didn't think I'd have to explain even the most obvious parts for you. That Jack kiddo might be too stuck-up in his own little world to miss all the obvious details, but expected you to get the whole story without any explanations."

He reclines again and continues,

"Who in hell would be interested in Gladie blueprints? Who in hell from the people I know? Casts of course. Gladie is a unique ship, a 'one of a kind' if you prefer, and if you have to shoot it all day, every day, you'll sure start to think if Sairs came up with somethin like that, you sure can come up with something far better. Do I have to keep stating the obvious or do you finally have the picture now?"

Silver exhaled the smoke and chuckled. "You have to be very oblivious to the whole fucking picture bub. Mollys, Bretonians, Hessians, 'Casts as you said, etc. They would all kill to get the blueprints for a hybrid interceptor just like the Glad. So, ye. I like the whole fuckin' story straight from your lips, boyo."

"Call it, business. I like it layed on the ground with everythin' to see." She grinned. "So.. 'Casts wants a Glad. Ain't that somethin'? Guess the 75th ain't cutting much on piratin' and then some."

"Those 75th are just a bunch of rookies who still have loads to learn when it comes to flying an actual ship. They don't have a say in stuff like that either. It's the 101st who want the prints, so you can bet the pay is good."

Reaching for his pocket and pulling out his cigarette pack, he takes one out, lights it and continues. "Though, They've been going downhill eversince Jameson went AWOL. But long as there's a cow, it would be a waste if you don't milk it. You better than anyone would know that, I'm sure."


"Sure, did milk 1.5 bills from them, all by myself. And i'm keepin' on milkin' it...." Her data-pad beeped and she grabbed it to read it. While she was writing a reply, she asked. "So, what you want?"

"It's simple. I don't like it when it's too easy, so instead of asking you to get me the prints, I'm asking for a way into Tripoli. Those Cretards do have wireless access on their bases, don't they? If they do, and you can get me on their shipyard, grabbin the prints by myself shouldn't take long."

He says, pulling the ashtray closer to himself on the table, and adds.

"So that's what I want - Someone to get me on Tripoli, and also arrange a place for me to stay low for a few hours till I have the prints. Then it would be the matter of working a way out before they realize someone's been fingering their database."

"Hmmm. That can be an issue." She sighed in sarcasm. "I upped their defensive systems and security. You won't find the blueprints in a wireless network. You'll have to get it by force actually."

"Oh, great. I wonder who should I thank for that!" He replies with a sarcastically confused expression on his face.

Silver smirked. "Me, actually." She smoked and thought for a couple of seconds. "How good you are with accents?"

"How good are you with accents?" aerelm replies, mimicing Silver's words nearly the same way she had used them.

"I mean 'sair one." She sighed. "Eh.. Considerin it's not that different from the Cast one, and I do hang around Cast space every now and again, I doubt it'd be much of a challenge." He replies, while scratching his chin.

"Aigh't. I got a plan. I'm still workin' on getting Tripoli's security in tip top shape. Soooooo.. Me, bringing a new tech to work on the servers..." She grins.

"Hmm.. That's actually more subtle than I thought." He comments with a smirk. "Go on."

"You'll get in the server rooms, work your magic.. without being disturbed, with prime access. You'll probably just need to say hi and bye to the random guards checking up on you.. And i'll tour the base once more. You'll give the signal when you're done, i'll hit the server room and you leave with me... As part of one of Los Trece. Mask and all. So basically.. No one will see you getting in. Or getting out." She put the cigar away. "What you think?"

"Long as I don't have to stick to that mask and robe thing for more than this one incident, it's all fine by me. But what I think is, what would -you- ask for in return." He looks at Silver, then pulls out his notepad and checks something on the screen before putting it back into his pocket.

"Hmmm. What can you get? And i mean.. Tech, secrets, the good stuff. Money ain't that interesting, as you can tell." Silver grinned at Aerelm. Reclining again, aerelm looks at Silver.

"First, let's make it clear that it's a deal between you and me, not the Reavers. As I told that hooded chick downstairs for all I care, we're having this pleasant chitchat at a corner of the bar right now." Even though his tone of sarcasm on 'pleasant' was obvious, he continued in a casual tone "Also, as I told Jack, the options are more or less open, so It'd make things more simple if -you- tell me what interests you."

"Few things do, love." Silver turned to face the ever bustling bay. "This is one of them. Knowledge. Antecipation. Planning. Politics. Power. To see Sirius as i see it. A balance of forces." Her chair swerved again to face Aerelm.

"And for anything that can help me on that... I'll set the universe.. on fire." She grinned in the deadliest of fashions.

"Hmm..." aerelm pauses for a brief moment then continues, "Last time I met Jameson, he was knee deep in a research he was doing on Liquid Cardie, and he did mention a thing or two about it." and adds after another short pause, "Needless to mention, it was shortly before his disappearance."

Then staring into Silver's eyes again, he asks "How would that interest you?"

"I know Jameson's work. What was his end-game with that?"

"He was pretty close to gettin somethin useful out of it, actually. Otherwise, why would've he needed that Navy flyboy as his personal labrat? What was his name again? Logan somethin?"

She raises an eyebrow and clicks on her data-pad. She quicly types something and gets a reply. "Willows. Logan Willows. Son of Admiral Willows of the Liberty Navy. Quite.. the troublemaker. My kind of guy." She chuckled.

"Yeah, him. Jameson had his lab on that moon orbitin Malta, that's as far as I know, and rumor has it that after he disappeared, the whole place is nothing but a ghost town. Now, my bet would be, they're still keeping a copy of his research somewhere on their central database on Malta, they just don't have the balls to continue the research themselves." He pauses for a moment, lighting another cigarette "But if, and if being the keyword here, I can get my hands on those research logs, I bet something big enough would come out of it. How would that interest you?"

"Hmmmm." She kicked back in the seat. "Drugs.. Or whatever. Ain't my thing. I don't deal in gettin' the blues, if you know what i mean."

"Buuuuut. The tech. Hmmm. That would interest me."

He looks out of the window for a few seconds "The best thing they have to offer is their Krakens right now. But, if this whole mess works out well enough, and they do manage to build their own version of Gladie, that could also be an option, but in a long run of course."

Silver grins like a wolf. "How 'bout a big ass dread?"

aerelm scratches his chin "Too big compared to a Heavy Fighter, don't you think?"

"Too small compared to blueprints, don't ya think?" She replied. "But ye, that's probably... out of your league, i suppose." She swerved the chair and looked at the bay. "How close are your connections to the 'Casts?"

"Close enough. But! What I was referring to..." aerelm crosses his fingers "was the actual size, not the.. 'value'. Because let's make it clear again, this is a deal between you and me. Neither the Reavers nor the 101st come into this at any point, so obviously when I offer Cast tech, it's not of 'legit' nature, if you know what I mean."

After throwing a glance at the bay as well, he continues.

"Now, using or abusing their trust as some may see it, I sure can make one of their ship get caught in airlock malfunction of sorts, which'd suddenly end up in your hands, but making a Dread disappear wouldn't be that realistic, don't you think?"

Silver kept eyeing the bay. Two more transports left. Two more food hauls to Crete. "What 'bout ten 'cast techs and eight ships? It's a squadron. I'm sure those get it lost in the Taus every once in a while."

size=medium]"And you'll be flying them all?"[/size]

"Let me guess. Politics and relationships are your concern." She grinned.

"Actually, nope. Not promising something which'd make me have a taste of hell to actually get though, is." He replies with a smirk.

Silver unleashed a laugh that could shook a man. "Hell. That's vacations, bub." And yet another food transport left the bay. "Three ships of my own choosing and guns." She turned back to Ae. "The snub kind, of course." She smirked.

"Now we're starting to talk about real world. Ships from their current line, or future snubs? My guess is the latter."

"Their current line is not their own line. So yes. The kind they are startin' to churn out of their prod lines. Plus, Infernos and Krakens are the kind of guns.. that makes a girl happy." She grinned.

"Technically speakin, their current line used to be theirs, before the models flooded the blackmarket, but why bother bringin that up anyways." He checks the time on his notepad and continues "I don't think their ships are gonna be out any time soon, so the happy girl should wait till there are enough of those ships around to start disappearing, and I'm sure you know what I mean."

"No prob on that. But. Guns too." She replied quickly and got up. Moving to Aerelm's seat, she offered her hand. "Deal made and done."

Shaking Silver's hand, he gets up. "Gonna be fun."

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[8:32:45 PM] Dusty Lens: Oh no, let me get that. Hello? Oh it's my grandma. She says to be roleplay.
[12:12:00] Traxit: this is smut stop