- Location
- Aotearoa
Nothing so political.
Merely Emperor For (Augmented) Life.
To Boldly Go... (a Starfleet quest)
- Thread starter OneirosTheWriter
- Start date
- Sci-Fi
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- Tags
- star trek exploration fully automated luxury gay space communism top level canon (canon) #hashtagcontent all-encompassing space amoeba cardassian boy bands cardassian magical girls darkest bureaucracy debate makes the qm cackle like palpatine hoh is an empire quest it has to be foreign infiltrators more ships ship happens singers delenda est starfleet this is not an empire quest ur waifu is collective?
Merely Emperor For (Augmented) Life.
The most obvious conflict is that Chen clearly intends to serve (at least) "ten years" with both her desire to surpass Kahurangi and her reference to a potential "ten years of peaceful expansion" during her time as Starfleet Commander. This is going to go against the post-Kahurangi precedent of "five year or less" terms and lead to an increasingly testy relationship between Chen and whomever is President at that time as they increasingly prod if maybe she isn't ready to move on yet.
On the other hand it's only an unofficial precedent, not a "rule" as such, and if Chen can keep delivering the results she might be able to finagle the politics.
On the gripping hand, the players might be ready to promote Lathriss by Year 6, and if so we can just vote for a bunch of clearly disastrous decisions in year 6 and force her out. "Why yes, we do want to start 30 Birds of Paradise in all our free berths."
However, hey, that's five game years from now. Who knows what the galaxy will look like in five years?
On the other hand it's only an unofficial precedent, not a "rule" as such, and if Chen can keep delivering the results she might be able to finagle the politics.
On the gripping hand, the players might be ready to promote Lathriss by Year 6, and if so we can just vote for a bunch of clearly disastrous decisions in year 6 and force her out. "Why yes, we do want to start 30 Birds of Paradise in all our free berths."
However, hey, that's five game years from now. Who knows what the galaxy will look like in five years?
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Or we could keep opening up more senior admiralty posts for him to run. "Always something new, here at Starfleet HQ!"
- Location
- Washington DC
Considering five in-game years ago, I don't think we'd even *met* the HoH? Or if we had, it was just that one really weird first contact incident? Five IC years from now, the galaxy is pretty well guaranteed to be a different place.
- Location
- Aotearoa
There will always be the new Federation Internal Security Division.
- Pronouns
- He/Him
I suspect we'll be bumping up Starfleet Intelligence to a full admiral posting in the near future, especially if we're going to be pouring in resources for its rapid expansion.
I think moving slowly is a mistake. It could easily be a big mistake.
There are two measures by which we succeed here, and likely a limited time to enact them before either we suffer consequences or before time's up and the Council wants a war. Cause disruption, or blow their stuff up. I feel we should act to do as much of this as possible in a short time frame. The Singers are mentally weak to taking a loss. Moreover, we have the assets to attrit them, much like we beat the Syndicate by attrition.
Therefore, I strongly disagree with the slow start plans:
[X][OFF] Plan Hadanelith
There are two measures by which we succeed here, and likely a limited time to enact them before either we suffer consequences or before time's up and the Council wants a war. Cause disruption, or blow their stuff up. I feel we should act to do as much of this as possible in a short time frame. The Singers are mentally weak to taking a loss. Moreover, we have the assets to attrit them, much like we beat the Syndicate by attrition.
Therefore, I strongly disagree with the slow start plans:
[X][OFF] Plan Hadanelith
What about the fact that the specific proposed mission to blow up the Singer data center is actually very risky by the numbers?
As Derpmind points out, it has an over 50% chance of straight up failure! That's a pretty high risk.
Following this pattern, 6 successes would be 22, a result that some of our Task Groups can reach. (Though I doubt there will be any targets with difficulty 6.) Task Group Season's Computer 14 could even roll 25 or 26 for 7 successes. With a score like that, you could even Hack the Gibson.
Don't forget, a roll that's one or two under the score results in a Marginal Success.
[X][OFF] BV Investigation and Asset Building
The most important thing right now is to set things up for future missions. That means building up assets and finding more targets to hit. If we just go for blowing up targets right now, we'll have a much harder time finding important targets in the future. Plus, some quick math says that sending the Rangers to destroy the hub has a 58.4% chance of failure, since they need 3 successes (13) on the Escape roll but only have Escape 5. They need to roll 8 or higher, which is way too risky for a turn one play. (Technically could also roll snake eyes on Disruption, too.)
EDIT: Usually missing by 2 successes gets you a marginal success, but that's supposed to mean you default to an Escape roll and in this case they're already rolling an escape roll.
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- Location
- Australia
By the way, does anyone have any feedback regarding the presentation of the votes or the mechanics? Anything we can do to make it easier to parse?
KnightDisciple
Love God. Do Right. Fear No Man.
- Location
- Midwest, USA
[X][OFF] BV Investigation and Asset Building
A cautious, reasonable approach, good for the opening moves of the game.
A cautious, reasonable approach, good for the opening moves of the game.
Night
Widow Null
- Location
- Hoff
"Superior ability breeds superior ambition" has been a Star Trek staple since Khan.
I don't think so; her later thoughts spell it out pretty well. Plenty of people get to be Commander, Starfleet. Most of them are good at it. But in terms of great, well...only Vitalia Kahurangi got to say they turned the service around. Only she got to face up to full State of Emergency and save the Federation. Only she got to have herself quoted on a commissioning plaque. (Maybe.) Starfleet was, and in many ways still is, Vitalia's.
Patrica Chen desperately wants to be that kind of Commander, Starfleet.
- Location
- Aotearoa
Well, it crystalised far better for me once @Briefvoice did his analysis post breaking down the teams and targets and commenting on them. Also pointing out we could reduce the 'noise' by only looking at the (preset) combined teams. That provided a framework to understand what had otherwise been basically a page full of teams and numbers.
So, if you wanted to do in-character commentary from Chen mulling over the options presented to her, or perhaps Fapok's commentary and analysis BV-style as he presents the options. Perhaps even in a followup post. "CinC Eyes Only".
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I think it was a mistake to use the same term for "regular escape" (the number attached to your transport, that you have to roll if escape successes are part of a mission) and "average escape" (the last-minute hail mary rolled to get out of trouble in the event of a marginal success and needed to hoof it). I'm still not 100% sure I understand the relationship between the two.
Also, the probability chart that @10ebbor10 made is pretty great and you should copy it into every future post.
Something I want to comment on to the thread at large regarding Chen and her vaguely threatening, creepy thoughts in her introduction post.
I think that it makes her way more interesting than any PC we have had so far.
We haven't really had a player character who had a character arc before. You could say, oh it's not that kind of game, but then there have been plenty of CKII type civilization building quests on the board who have had very well defined PCs, as I'm sure many of you have seen. But all of the Starfleet Commanders so far have been, well they've had slightly differing personalities sure, but they've all been idealistic and committed and basically not had any personal flaws that needed solving. Kind of bland to be honest.
Sure this could be a set up for a villain play, but it doesn't have to go that way. It could also be that Chen just gets an actual character arc and grows or changes her mind in some way. "Maybe this 'genetic superiority' stuff was just a backstop for my own insecurity."
There's actual uncertainty. Who is this person really? She thinks kind of creepy thoughts, but she doesn't seem to have bad goals. What does she want? is it compatible with being good? Does being ambitious and out to change the world make her a bad person or misguided?
And that's interesting!
I think that it makes her way more interesting than any PC we have had so far.
We haven't really had a player character who had a character arc before. You could say, oh it's not that kind of game, but then there have been plenty of CKII type civilization building quests on the board who have had very well defined PCs, as I'm sure many of you have seen. But all of the Starfleet Commanders so far have been, well they've had slightly differing personalities sure, but they've all been idealistic and committed and basically not had any personal flaws that needed solving. Kind of bland to be honest.
Sure this could be a set up for a villain play, but it doesn't have to go that way. It could also be that Chen just gets an actual character arc and grows or changes her mind in some way. "Maybe this 'genetic superiority' stuff was just a backstop for my own insecurity."
There's actual uncertainty. Who is this person really? She thinks kind of creepy thoughts, but she doesn't seem to have bad goals. What does she want? is it compatible with being good? Does being ambitious and out to change the world make her a bad person or misguided?
And that's interesting!
Nervos Belli
Don't think this means you've won!
- Location
- Murica
[X][OFF] BV Investigation and Asset Building
- Location
- Illinois
- Pronouns
- He/Him
I'll say that it took me a while to figure out that the (Req: Escape y Infiltration z) indicated how many successes of each kind were needed for a mission. Or, at least, that's what I think that represents?
- Location
- Australia
That's correct.
Okay, I'll try to find a way to better differentiate emergency escape with normal egress.
Okay, might add some extra clarifications to help people understand, particularly with the upcoming phases.
Nervos Belli
Don't think this means you've won!
- Location
- Murica
Maybe we could use T'Mir escape to indicate an escape where you get away flawlessly, and Courageous escape for an escape when everything is on fire and half the team is dead?
- Location
- Outside the Box
- Pronouns
- She/Her
I do agree with everything you said, but part of me wants to go with a fairly goofy explanation: Human augments come with an inflated genetic-superiority complex as factory standard. Like, Patricia Chen is otherwise perfectly capable of rational thought, but when it comes to augment status she's programmed to spout off Khan-era propaganda. "The Federation's strength is in its diversity. We have so many unique sophants from such diverse backgrounds. I also take strength from my genetic superiority, cleansed of the flaws that plague the teeming masses of humanity." *cough*
IDK, I can't seem to word this in a way that conveys the joke well.
- Location
- Washington DC
Make the mission locations and names a touch clearer? Mostly the [Patrol Sweep] missions (they don't have a clear location tag) and the [build a cell] missions (which don't have clear location OR mission tags). Mostly just asking to have consistent formatting for all the mission options; the main ones with choices are clear and quite workable.
Make sure all of the Task Groups have all the skills, in the same order, even if they're zeroes? Also, have skills each on their own line? I personally find it harder to scan along a single line with multiple entries than to scan down a bulleted list.
A clear intended vote format would be nice. I kinda followed what anon_user said on the Discord to set my plan up, but having the format spelled out would make sure all plans are easy to compare.
Also nice (but hardly necessary) would be a table of teams (which is even easier than a bulleted list) and a table of missions (mostly to easily read the requirements, but also to summarize for easy plan creation). I can pretty quickly throw this stuff into Excel if I need to, so it's no big deal, but it would be convenient.
Omake - Outside Agitators Pt 17 - brmj
Series: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17
A/N: My deepest apologies for the delay. You won't have to wait that long for the next one. If you aren't sure you remember where I left off, I strongly encourage you to go read (or at least skim) OA part 16.
Outside Agitators Part 17: "Crossing A Line"
2324 Q3M3
"The Dark Spoon" turned out to be in the little neighborhood to the west of the old spaceport that had traditionally been a hub of Morshadd's alien community. Though transporters had largely replaced the heavy cargo lifters that once made up the bulk of the traffic, just as they had in turn replaced the fusion powered SSTO spaceplanes long before them, the spaceport still saw enough traffic to have not faded into complete obscurity. Today, the whole area was dominated by side by side pairs of long, straight and wide streets, with little curved or angular connectors between them; from the air, the layout of the long-gone runways was clear.
This was a place with history. The old spaceport had attracted business catering to travelers, import-export companies, small warehouses and the odd pilot's bar or two, more than willing to put up with the noise of the spaceport for cheap land and easy access to it. Interplanetary trade had brought small communities of immigrants, people from the colonies returning to the homeworld and bringing their distinct cultures with them. Some had clustered together, forming neighborhoods like "Little Calamar" and "Gammontown". Contact with other civilizations led to trade, and visiting or immigrant aliens naturally found themselves concentrating around the spaceport as well. Now Little Gaen and a small but close-knit Bolian enclave joined the other immigrant neighborhoods, while other immigrant communities without the numbers or inclination to concentrate in the same way still found places for themselves in the region as a whole. The steady replacement of shuttles and cargo lifters with transporters for transport to and from orbit reduced the importance of proximity to the spaceport, but by then the region's character was well enough established that it wasn't likely to change.
The Dark Spoon occupied a storefront in an older mixed use building, with a little corner store to one side and the offices of a less than prosperous architectural firm to the other, and several floors of apartments above. A sign in the window advertised "coffee, genuine earth tea, drinks from seventeen worlds", while a newer, less professional sign offered free coffee for firefighters.
The interior was comfortable, if a bit darker than Bimak would have preferred, with bunch of little tables, a bar with stools, and a display case with a scattering of baked goods. It was almost empty, with just a pair of firefighters sitting at one table and a hung over looking Gaeni sipping something hot and orange at another.
There was a subtle, sourceless noise in the air that would have been easy to miss for most, but was hard to ignore from an Upsider's perspective. In most Yrillian ships and stations, absolute silence was death, and meant that the life support wasn't running. Spending time on the surface of a planet or a newer, quieter ship could be disconcerting, even stressful until one got used to it. The Dark Spoon had the same kind of noise to it, like fans and pumps just on the edge of hearing, or like distant surf and radio static all at once. It felt comfortable, but Bimak couldn't help but wonder where it was coming from. Something in the ventilation? Maybe even white noise to prevent eavesdropping? Was it paranoid to be thinking about that sort of thing? She didn't know what to think.
The proprietor was a slim human woman with dark hair and tan skin, perhaps in her late fifties but clearly in good shape, with faint scarring visible on her neck and forehead. Bimak couldn't help but feel there was something a bit familiar about her. There was something in the way she held herself that was reminiscent of Ferash or some of the Romulan officers they'd encountered, not quite a stiffness, but something almost of the sort born of self-assurance, discipline and an economy of motion. Maybe that was it? Her eyes seemed to take in everything, though it would have been easy to miss for someone not looking for it.
This was someone dangerous.
She smiled in a way that didn't quite look right on her face. "Welcome to the Dark Spoon. What can I get you?"
Iymurak spoke first. "Answers."
"And you may just get them. Now, what can I get you?
"'Coffee' is your specialty, right? Might as well."
The others made their selections; Bimak ended up with a "cortado", which was apparently a special kind of coffee. The proprietor did something with an odd machine behind the counter and handed her an almost comically tiny glass of hot, brownish-tan liquid. As Bimak carefully picked it up between two fingers, she commented "I should probably go ahead and make you another one." Finally, she motioned them towards the bar.
"Between you and me, you've come to the right place. I do have certain special skills. Now, just what answers does the Kelsatha's crew want from Penelope Miranstein, simple coffee shop owner?"
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The briefing room was packed. Everyone involved in the active parts of the planned operation was there, of course, but so were as many others as could fit, while still others watched a stream from elsewhere in the ship. Operational security concerns aside, this was something they all had a stake in.
Ferash waited for the crowd to quiet down as the last few trickled in, standing straight with a severe expression on his face. He shot a glance at a pair in the back who were engaged in a quiet conversation, then nodded to himself as they stopped and began speaking.
"You know why you are here. We have a rescue mission to organize. But you may not know why I am here. I am here because I have done this before."
That caught the audience's attention.
"As first officer, I once led a mission which rescued over two hundred prisoners, including the Kelsatha's captain, from the hidden base of a Syndicate-affiliated sophant trafficking ring on an industrial-age world, all without losing a single crew member or giving the natives any reason to suspect anything had happened at all."
He paused and surveyed the room.
"Surprised? Starfleet may get the glory, but the Guard gets things done. This is what we do. Did." An almost melancholy look crossed his features, there and gone in a fraction of a second.
"I'm getting a little old for fieldwork, but I like to think i'm not completely useless and most of you voted to trust me." He grinned, genuinely if a bit strained. "So here I am, captain for the day and resident subject matter expert. And here's how we get everyone back."
Something changed in his bearing as instantly and completely as a switch flipping, and the last trace of the good humor was gone.
"There are aspects of how this is being handled that many of you may take issue with. Most notably, the decision not to share our intelligence. It doesn't sit well with me either, but there is no other choice. As soon as the government knows we know where they are, this becomes ten times harder. And as soon as the general public knows, this stops being a thing House Rithe can sweep under the rug if it is convenient. It becomes almost impossible to get away with this. So please trust me when I say that operational security is paramount. This is not a 'vestige of hierarchical Federation methods of organizing'. This is a necessity if we are to have any chance at all." There was frustration in his voice at the end, if perhaps less than there would have been a few months before.
"With that out of the way, let us begin. This is where the prisoners are being held." Ferash gestured at the screen behind him, which began displaying satellite imagery of Pashida, which smoothly zoomed in and highlighted a blocky structure in a neighborhood of office and governmental buildings only moderately affected by the bombing. "This is the Pashida Central Records Office Long Term Storage Annex, which is apparently the kind of thing you need when you try to keep a civilization functioning without computers."
The screen flashed to a street level view, revealing a dreary, rectangular building that looked as if the architect couldn't decide if it was to be a warehouse, an office building or a center of government. It was perhaps four stories tall, with row after row of narrow windows on the two upper floors and a half-hearted attempt at an impressive facade, now stained with the ubiquitous ash and soot. A low set of concrete stairs led to the main entrance. A taller building to the left just visible at the edge of the image showed serious damage to its upper floors, but the records office itself seemed to be fine.
He visibly read off of his notes for a moment. "It is home to 'hard-copy versions of everything of importance that has crossed a bureaucrat's desk in this city going back literally hundreds of years, stored on paper, analog magnetic tape, low density digital storage cards, and several different competing standards of miniaturized photographic storage, with and without rudimentary machine-readable metadata.' The Licori do not have a very well developed state bureaucracy, but even so, the accounting department alone adds almost a quarter ton every year. I am told it is so horrifying that the foreign technical advisers they are bringing in to help digitize it usually take one look and quit on the spot."
A few faint and brittle chuckles rose up from the audience but quickly died away; the mood wasn't right for humor.
"By rights, this should be perhaps the least interesting building in the city. That's why House Nithad had it built with a few extra levels of sub-basement for a secret police blacksite. Though it was only sporadically used under House Tartresis, Rithe has been making extensive use of the site since the coup."
The display changed to a 3D semi-transparent schematic of the building, revealing a full eight levels beneath the surface, with the bottom three shaded red.
"These three floors protected from orbital sensors by a scattering field, and do not exist on any official plans. House Nithad used it as a major base for their secret police, both for holding prisoners and for other purposes. The building is also intended as a strong point in case of civil unrest, with reinforced walls and doors, no ground level windows and a backup power supply. The entire building is lined with a 70% refined kelbonite composite weave to passively block attempts to transport inside, with the exception of an elevator machinery room on the roof that the secret police use to transport in undetected."
"I will not mince words. Assaulting this compound would be challenging at the best of times, and this is not the best of times. We are not equipped or trained for ground combat of any sort, let alone special operations raids. Though they are probably not expecting us, they are likely on high alert due to recent events. Trying to keep our actions deniable will make it even harder, and may not be possible. I trust that everyone here is familiar with at least the broad outlines of the plan that was voted on, but that isn't going to stop me from going over it again."
"At this moment, an engineering team is assembling a Licori pattern transporter in an abandoned warehouse on the edge of the blast zone, using spares pulled from Platform 6B and a copy of one of the Romulan control modules they're all being fit with. At 0400 local time, when all records office workers are expected to be out of the building, a small team equipped with sanitized, sealed suites will use that temporary facility to transport onto the roof, where they will cut all above ground data links and introduce anesthizine gas into the building through the HVAC equipment. Simultaneously, another team will cut the fiber optic hardlines going to the building where they join the main data trunk running through the storm sewers."
The screen updated to match, zooming out to highlight a warehouse on the other side of the crater, then back in to highlight the blocky, oversized HVAC equipment on the records office roof and the data line running through the adjacent storm drainage line just below street level.
"Once the gas has taken effect, the team on the roof will break into the elevator machine room using a Licori-pattern industrial disrupter, disable the elevators, and secure the above-ground portion of the building, making sure to destroy all recording devices in the building security office. They will seal above-ground doors to all but the north-east stairwell using thermite welding to prevent flanking or escape, then proceed down the remaining stairwell, sealing the door to each basement floor until the access door to the final three floors, which they will again breach with the industrial disrupter."
Arrows moved through the diagram of the building on the screen, showing the path of the team, with the stairwell doors and security room shading green as they were reached, entire floor following in a light blue as they were rendered secure.
"This is where it gets tricky. We don't believe that the secret police facility has an independent air supply, but we also do not have detailed plans past the fifth subbasement. The doors will be sealed level by level with magnetic clamps, and additional anesthizine will be pumped in through holes cut with the industrial disrupter. If it is needed, there is a good chance the Rithe forces will have already noticed the attack and gone for any breathing equipment they may have in storage. Once the anesthizine has had time to take effect, the door to the lowest level will be breached with a small shaped charge. Our team will then fight their way through any opposition as per standard close quarters combat techniques, securing any House Rithe prisoners as they go. Once the facility is secure, they will disable the scattering field, retrieve or destroy all records, and deploy a set of transporter pattern enhancers, which they will then use to rescue all prisoners, retrieve all unconscious or captured secret police and finally escape themselves using the same transporter facility they used for infiltration. Finally, timed explosive charges will destroy the pattern enhancers."
Again, the screen mirrored the description, zooming in to show stick-figure Yrillians breaching the door with military precision and clearing the sub-basement room by room, setting up a trio of pattern enhancers, then beaming out. Finally, the pattern enhancers disappeared in a flash.
"Following exfiltration, our team, the rescued prisoners and any captured Rithe forces will be beamed to waiting ground transports throughout the city. Rescued prisoners of a less sensitive nature will be released in solidly committee-controlled regions of the city, while any higher profile prisoners who would not be safe and captured Rithe forces will be moved to a fire-damaged office building currently being outfitted for the purpose. Our team will be driven to a location that would not arouse suspicion and transported back to the Kelsatha. Finally, the transporter will be destroyed with a low powered plasma charge to eliminate evidence. Though it is not anticipated that the Licori state will be actively monitoring transporter events, it can not be ruled out and must be planned for."
The view once again zoomed out to a map of the city, color-coded dots appearing and each tracing a line to their individual destinations, before the building with the transporter installation flashed and winked out.
"If this does not go flawlessly, we will be implicated. Even if this does go flawlessly, the government will likely have their suspicions. Our hope is that House Rithe will assume this is the work of another major house, or at minimum be unsure enough about the culprits that they choose not to openly act against us. Still, we must be prepared to leave the system in a hurry if necessary."
Ferash paused a moment to let it sink in.
"Make no mistake, this is crossing a line. If nothing else changes, House Rithe will soon decide that we are more trouble than we are worth. Well, something may just change. You know this better than I do. You've all felt the mood on the streets, heard the slogans being raised. All of you keep saying it: the next phase in the struggle is coming. Maybe what the prisoners we rescue have to say will help it come that much sooner."
The room was somber, but hopeful. Ferash gave them a decisive nod.
"Well, get to it. There's work to be done, and you've all got your own briefings with your team leaders. Let's make this happen."
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"I have an open stack. We still have plenty more on the agenda. Any final comments on this proposal before we move on?"
The chairperson had to raise her voice to be heard. The circle of striking workers was rather large, after all, and the acoustics of the open patch of factory floor over by the loading docs left something to be desired, even with all the machinery shut down.
No one moved or spoke up. A glance passed around the circle. Finally, a middle-aged Licori with a nose that had been broken and healed poorly raised his hand. The chairperson gestured towards him.
"We've said all that needs said. I say we vote!"
A ragged cheer went up from the the crowd. This time, the chair had to actually shout. "You call the question, then? Do I have a second?" Perhaps twenty hands went up before she even finished talking. "Okay, then. All in favor?"
A forest of hands rose.
"All opposed?"
A fair few, but obviously less than before.
"Abstentions?"
Just a handful. Gryer raised his hand; this wasn't his work gang, so he didn't feel that it was his place to cast a vote. They'd already heard what he thought on the matter in any case.
"The proposal passes. We'll be officially signing on to the call for a 'All-Pashida Council of Factory Committee Delegates'. We'll vote on our delegates tomorrow. Once again, under the provisional rules, we are entitled to three. Anyone who'd like to nominate someone should get those names out early so there's time to talk it over. Now, moving on to the next point… setting up more formalized rotation for night time security. Is there an 'Addarai Karakhas' here? I have you down to motivate this proposal."
An especially short woman in a grease-stained jumpsuit fought her way to the front of the crowd and began speaking about the need to maintain a full roster of guards at all times to protect the factory occupation. Gryer allowed himself to tune her out; it was an important logistical topic, but one he had no stake in and for which he had nothing to add.
He really hoped they were doing the right thing. The proposal for a council of delegates was undeniably a step forward towards worker's power, but it was a bit more hierarchical than he was entirely comfortable with. It was almost more Sydraxian Vanguard than Yrillian in form. Perhaps that couldn't be helped, without enough computers to speed up large scale democracy. He resolved to mention that in the Kelsatha's chat, maybe help put together a proposal to get mass quantities of simple tablets into the hands of the factory occupation committees. It could take up quite a bit of manufacturing capacity, but it could be very helpful going forward.
The most recent proposal wasn't the only Sydraxian thing to be catching on; the little booklets the Sydraxians had taken to handing out on how to run a meeting seemed to be seeing a lot of use, at least in a simplified form. Once again, something that worked a bit better without computers than the Yrillian equivalent. He personally found some of the intricacies a little odd, like the fact that they insisted on calling the list of names "stack" when it was obviously a priority queue, but it at least prevented people from talking over each-other too much and made sure everyone got heard.
The "factory committee" had formed shortly after the occupation had begun, as had others all over the city, all in imitation of the firefighting committees and the related neighborhood and district committees that had started coordinating essential services. It seemed that when something needed to be done, the first instinct of the people of Pashida was now to organize themselves into a sort of proto-workgang to do it. He'd read the arguments that the formation of bodies of this type was a necessary and inevitable step on the path to democratic working class self-rule, seen the case studies identifying them in countless revolutionary and pre-revolutionary situations on many different worlds, but actually seeing it in practice was something else.
The proposal had been discussed, argued over, and amended several times to produce something more satisfactory before it was eventually voted on and approved. Somehow, the entire process barely took ten minutes. Now, if Gryer remembered the agenda correctly…
"Okay, next up, we've got a request from the Yrillians to borrow one of our trucks. Gryer?"
Gryer didn't bother moving; he was tall enough and loud enough that it wasn't going to be necessary.
"Thanks once again for having me here. It's been an honor to see this. You're making history, even if it might not feel like it yet."
No one seemed to know what to make of that, so he pressed on.
"I'll get to the point. You've got a couple trucks sitting at those loading docks. You don't plan to go back to work any time soon, so they aren't going anywhere. We could use a couple trucks to help move people and supplies around the city, freeing up our transporters so we can use them for things a truck can't do. We would of course return them when the strike ends or if you ask for them back, and we'd make them available to the committees when we don't need them. They aren't doing any good here, are they?"
He swallowed nervously. For all that he'd gotten better with practice, this sort of thing wasn't exactly his specialty. At least he wasn't having to stretch the truth very far; they needed a few ground vehicles for the extraction from tonight's raid, but they'd be useful for other things too.
"I get that this is maybe a big step. Going from just occupying the means of production to taking it over in some small way. But it's your truck after all, House Halsiad bought it with the fruit of your labor. Why not let us put it to use?"
Gryer figured he'd leave it there. The chairperson shot him a look to make sure he was done; he just shrugged in response, so she jumped in.
"You all know how this works by now. Raise your hand for a comment, raise a fist for a question, I'll prioritize questions and people who haven't spoken yet." A few hands rose. "You, in the back."
"I don't see why not. Seems easy enough, and we all know how much use they've been. We should do it."
"I've got Baros next on the stack."
Another hand raised rather insistently as someone, apparently "Baros", started speaking.
"Agreeing to this is crossing a line. It's signaling that we are taking this factory, and we may not be giving it back. Senkh Halsiad is going to take note, and he won't be happy. So, it's time to ask ourselves if we are buying what the Yrillians are selling? Is this just about leverage, and protecting the committees, and getting a fair deal, or do we really think we don't need the Halsiads at all?"
Scattered cheers and applause.
"No! No! That is not what I am suggesting! None of us know the first thing about running a factory."
Someone in the crowd broke in: "Speak for yourself!" Baros was drowned out by laughter until the chairperson got things under control with a shouted "Respect the stack!"
"Look, we would be picking a fight that I don't think we can win, and I'm not even sure we should. That's all I'm saying. We need to think long and hard before we do something stupid for no good reason."
Several more hands had shot up while he was speaking. They went down as the chair made eye contact (or, if that wasn't enough, pointed) as and noted them down on a piece of paper. All except for the man who'd raised his hand before Baros started speaking, who was still stubbornly raising it as high as he could.
"Gray hat."
"Me?"
"Yeah. Go for it."
"Okay. Um. I don't see why they need it. They've got transporters and shuttles and things have mostly calmed down. What do they suddenly need trucks for? But we don't need them either. Maybe we should loan them to the firefighter's coordinating committee? They'll know where they could do the most good. And I see what Baros is saying, but I disagree. I think we crossed that line when we occupied the factory, and the boss won't see any difference. We're in trouble either way if they win."
That generated a few thoughtful nods. Meanwhile, the guy from before was still raising his hand, and had escalated to waving it back and forth a little. The chairperson was clearly getting annoyed.
"Look, I've already got you on the stack. You'll just have to wait your turn like everyone else."
He wasn't going to take no for an answer. "But it's important! Big news!"
The chairperson rubbed her temples. "Fine. But you had better not make me regret this."
"Someone found the prisoners! The ones from the Harhkude weapons plant! They're being held under the old city records building! It's all right here!" He waved a little hand-held computer. Romlan green, Gryer distantly noticed. "There's already people gathering outside and a standoff with the police and everything!"
That got everyone's attention. All it took was someone shouting "Well fuck this! I know where I'm going." to completely destroy all semblance of order. As most of the crowd headed towards the door, Gryer stepped away to let the rest of the crew know. This looked pretty bad.
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It was pretty bad.
The records office looked every bit as dreary in person, but had taken on a dystopian tinge with the addition of a police barricade. Perhaps three dozen well armed police and uniformed Rithe guards huddled behind a wall of interlocking transparent aluminum barricade sections, while a handful more watched warily from the roof as the crowd outside grew. Confused office workers could be seen peering out from the windows as the little clusters of angry demonstrators turned into hundreds.
When the spontaneous march from the factory had arrived, a group of street toughs had been hanging around the edge of the demonstration throwing rocks, debris and fireworks, brandishing clubs, and jeering. The police of course stood by and did nothing; there was hardly even a pretense that they weren't in the pay of either Rithe or a minor house with industrial interests. "Go Home / Goon Squad!" had joined the now standard anti-government chants, and plenty of bricks and rocks were being thrown right back, but Gryer saw someone go down with a solid hit to the head. Their little column of factory workers had managed to come up behind the "goon squad", and rushed them with a savagery Gryer could hardly believe, turning it into a pretty nasty brawl. By the end of it, most of the thugs had been beaten badly, but managed to slip out through an ally. Being outnumbered five to one and surrounded would do that, even when the other side was mostly unarmed.
Someone came on a megaphone shouting for the crowd to disperse, but it was obvious their heart wasn't in it. Groups of firefighters and strikers were still arriving, and there weren't enough police to do anything about it without an escalation they didn't want to risk.
A knot of Kelsatha crew coming from a sidestreet waved to Gryer and tried to make their way over to him. Someone in the crowd had thought to set up one of the transport inhibitors the Kelsatha had been manufacturing since the day before, and the police weren't the only ones being inconvenienced.
A soot-stained minibuss pulled to a stop as close as it could get and disgorged firefighters. A pair of teenagers spray-painted anti-government slogans on the building across the street. A shuttle in House Rithe livery flew overhead, made three slow passes while the police tried and failed to clear room for it to land, then gave up and dropped off another batch of Rithe guardsmen on the roof. Chants would start somewhere, spread through the crowd like wildfire, and die down only to be replaced with something else.
The other crew had finally managed to reach Gryer. Bimak raised her voice to be heard over the crowd. "You hear that?"
Gryer strained to pick up what she was referring to. Suddenly, it rose up from the crowd, spreading like the chants had been, becoming impossible to miss. The people were singing The Guns of the Baron's Men.
Gryer found himself smiling almost against his will. "This is new. A new phase in the struggle. Things are moving, and fast."
Bimak shook her head and smiled sadly.
"No, that." She gestured towards the line of police and Rithe guards, including the one still futilely bellowing into a megaphone. "That's the sound of a perfectly good plan smashing into a million pieces. What the fuck are we supposed to do now?"
A/N: My deepest apologies for the delay. You won't have to wait that long for the next one. If you aren't sure you remember where I left off, I strongly encourage you to go read (or at least skim) OA part 16.
Outside Agitators Part 17: "Crossing A Line"
2324 Q3M3
"The Dark Spoon" turned out to be in the little neighborhood to the west of the old spaceport that had traditionally been a hub of Morshadd's alien community. Though transporters had largely replaced the heavy cargo lifters that once made up the bulk of the traffic, just as they had in turn replaced the fusion powered SSTO spaceplanes long before them, the spaceport still saw enough traffic to have not faded into complete obscurity. Today, the whole area was dominated by side by side pairs of long, straight and wide streets, with little curved or angular connectors between them; from the air, the layout of the long-gone runways was clear.
This was a place with history. The old spaceport had attracted business catering to travelers, import-export companies, small warehouses and the odd pilot's bar or two, more than willing to put up with the noise of the spaceport for cheap land and easy access to it. Interplanetary trade had brought small communities of immigrants, people from the colonies returning to the homeworld and bringing their distinct cultures with them. Some had clustered together, forming neighborhoods like "Little Calamar" and "Gammontown". Contact with other civilizations led to trade, and visiting or immigrant aliens naturally found themselves concentrating around the spaceport as well. Now Little Gaen and a small but close-knit Bolian enclave joined the other immigrant neighborhoods, while other immigrant communities without the numbers or inclination to concentrate in the same way still found places for themselves in the region as a whole. The steady replacement of shuttles and cargo lifters with transporters for transport to and from orbit reduced the importance of proximity to the spaceport, but by then the region's character was well enough established that it wasn't likely to change.
The Dark Spoon occupied a storefront in an older mixed use building, with a little corner store to one side and the offices of a less than prosperous architectural firm to the other, and several floors of apartments above. A sign in the window advertised "coffee, genuine earth tea, drinks from seventeen worlds", while a newer, less professional sign offered free coffee for firefighters.
The interior was comfortable, if a bit darker than Bimak would have preferred, with bunch of little tables, a bar with stools, and a display case with a scattering of baked goods. It was almost empty, with just a pair of firefighters sitting at one table and a hung over looking Gaeni sipping something hot and orange at another.
There was a subtle, sourceless noise in the air that would have been easy to miss for most, but was hard to ignore from an Upsider's perspective. In most Yrillian ships and stations, absolute silence was death, and meant that the life support wasn't running. Spending time on the surface of a planet or a newer, quieter ship could be disconcerting, even stressful until one got used to it. The Dark Spoon had the same kind of noise to it, like fans and pumps just on the edge of hearing, or like distant surf and radio static all at once. It felt comfortable, but Bimak couldn't help but wonder where it was coming from. Something in the ventilation? Maybe even white noise to prevent eavesdropping? Was it paranoid to be thinking about that sort of thing? She didn't know what to think.
The proprietor was a slim human woman with dark hair and tan skin, perhaps in her late fifties but clearly in good shape, with faint scarring visible on her neck and forehead. Bimak couldn't help but feel there was something a bit familiar about her. There was something in the way she held herself that was reminiscent of Ferash or some of the Romulan officers they'd encountered, not quite a stiffness, but something almost of the sort born of self-assurance, discipline and an economy of motion. Maybe that was it? Her eyes seemed to take in everything, though it would have been easy to miss for someone not looking for it.
This was someone dangerous.
She smiled in a way that didn't quite look right on her face. "Welcome to the Dark Spoon. What can I get you?"
Iymurak spoke first. "Answers."
"And you may just get them. Now, what can I get you?
"'Coffee' is your specialty, right? Might as well."
The others made their selections; Bimak ended up with a "cortado", which was apparently a special kind of coffee. The proprietor did something with an odd machine behind the counter and handed her an almost comically tiny glass of hot, brownish-tan liquid. As Bimak carefully picked it up between two fingers, she commented "I should probably go ahead and make you another one." Finally, she motioned them towards the bar.
"Between you and me, you've come to the right place. I do have certain special skills. Now, just what answers does the Kelsatha's crew want from Penelope Miranstein, simple coffee shop owner?"
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The briefing room was packed. Everyone involved in the active parts of the planned operation was there, of course, but so were as many others as could fit, while still others watched a stream from elsewhere in the ship. Operational security concerns aside, this was something they all had a stake in.
Ferash waited for the crowd to quiet down as the last few trickled in, standing straight with a severe expression on his face. He shot a glance at a pair in the back who were engaged in a quiet conversation, then nodded to himself as they stopped and began speaking.
"You know why you are here. We have a rescue mission to organize. But you may not know why I am here. I am here because I have done this before."
That caught the audience's attention.
"As first officer, I once led a mission which rescued over two hundred prisoners, including the Kelsatha's captain, from the hidden base of a Syndicate-affiliated sophant trafficking ring on an industrial-age world, all without losing a single crew member or giving the natives any reason to suspect anything had happened at all."
He paused and surveyed the room.
"Surprised? Starfleet may get the glory, but the Guard gets things done. This is what we do. Did." An almost melancholy look crossed his features, there and gone in a fraction of a second.
"I'm getting a little old for fieldwork, but I like to think i'm not completely useless and most of you voted to trust me." He grinned, genuinely if a bit strained. "So here I am, captain for the day and resident subject matter expert. And here's how we get everyone back."
Something changed in his bearing as instantly and completely as a switch flipping, and the last trace of the good humor was gone.
"There are aspects of how this is being handled that many of you may take issue with. Most notably, the decision not to share our intelligence. It doesn't sit well with me either, but there is no other choice. As soon as the government knows we know where they are, this becomes ten times harder. And as soon as the general public knows, this stops being a thing House Rithe can sweep under the rug if it is convenient. It becomes almost impossible to get away with this. So please trust me when I say that operational security is paramount. This is not a 'vestige of hierarchical Federation methods of organizing'. This is a necessity if we are to have any chance at all." There was frustration in his voice at the end, if perhaps less than there would have been a few months before.
"With that out of the way, let us begin. This is where the prisoners are being held." Ferash gestured at the screen behind him, which began displaying satellite imagery of Pashida, which smoothly zoomed in and highlighted a blocky structure in a neighborhood of office and governmental buildings only moderately affected by the bombing. "This is the Pashida Central Records Office Long Term Storage Annex, which is apparently the kind of thing you need when you try to keep a civilization functioning without computers."
The screen flashed to a street level view, revealing a dreary, rectangular building that looked as if the architect couldn't decide if it was to be a warehouse, an office building or a center of government. It was perhaps four stories tall, with row after row of narrow windows on the two upper floors and a half-hearted attempt at an impressive facade, now stained with the ubiquitous ash and soot. A low set of concrete stairs led to the main entrance. A taller building to the left just visible at the edge of the image showed serious damage to its upper floors, but the records office itself seemed to be fine.
He visibly read off of his notes for a moment. "It is home to 'hard-copy versions of everything of importance that has crossed a bureaucrat's desk in this city going back literally hundreds of years, stored on paper, analog magnetic tape, low density digital storage cards, and several different competing standards of miniaturized photographic storage, with and without rudimentary machine-readable metadata.' The Licori do not have a very well developed state bureaucracy, but even so, the accounting department alone adds almost a quarter ton every year. I am told it is so horrifying that the foreign technical advisers they are bringing in to help digitize it usually take one look and quit on the spot."
A few faint and brittle chuckles rose up from the audience but quickly died away; the mood wasn't right for humor.
"By rights, this should be perhaps the least interesting building in the city. That's why House Nithad had it built with a few extra levels of sub-basement for a secret police blacksite. Though it was only sporadically used under House Tartresis, Rithe has been making extensive use of the site since the coup."
The display changed to a 3D semi-transparent schematic of the building, revealing a full eight levels beneath the surface, with the bottom three shaded red.
"These three floors protected from orbital sensors by a scattering field, and do not exist on any official plans. House Nithad used it as a major base for their secret police, both for holding prisoners and for other purposes. The building is also intended as a strong point in case of civil unrest, with reinforced walls and doors, no ground level windows and a backup power supply. The entire building is lined with a 70% refined kelbonite composite weave to passively block attempts to transport inside, with the exception of an elevator machinery room on the roof that the secret police use to transport in undetected."
"I will not mince words. Assaulting this compound would be challenging at the best of times, and this is not the best of times. We are not equipped or trained for ground combat of any sort, let alone special operations raids. Though they are probably not expecting us, they are likely on high alert due to recent events. Trying to keep our actions deniable will make it even harder, and may not be possible. I trust that everyone here is familiar with at least the broad outlines of the plan that was voted on, but that isn't going to stop me from going over it again."
"At this moment, an engineering team is assembling a Licori pattern transporter in an abandoned warehouse on the edge of the blast zone, using spares pulled from Platform 6B and a copy of one of the Romulan control modules they're all being fit with. At 0400 local time, when all records office workers are expected to be out of the building, a small team equipped with sanitized, sealed suites will use that temporary facility to transport onto the roof, where they will cut all above ground data links and introduce anesthizine gas into the building through the HVAC equipment. Simultaneously, another team will cut the fiber optic hardlines going to the building where they join the main data trunk running through the storm sewers."
The screen updated to match, zooming out to highlight a warehouse on the other side of the crater, then back in to highlight the blocky, oversized HVAC equipment on the records office roof and the data line running through the adjacent storm drainage line just below street level.
"Once the gas has taken effect, the team on the roof will break into the elevator machine room using a Licori-pattern industrial disrupter, disable the elevators, and secure the above-ground portion of the building, making sure to destroy all recording devices in the building security office. They will seal above-ground doors to all but the north-east stairwell using thermite welding to prevent flanking or escape, then proceed down the remaining stairwell, sealing the door to each basement floor until the access door to the final three floors, which they will again breach with the industrial disrupter."
Arrows moved through the diagram of the building on the screen, showing the path of the team, with the stairwell doors and security room shading green as they were reached, entire floor following in a light blue as they were rendered secure.
"This is where it gets tricky. We don't believe that the secret police facility has an independent air supply, but we also do not have detailed plans past the fifth subbasement. The doors will be sealed level by level with magnetic clamps, and additional anesthizine will be pumped in through holes cut with the industrial disrupter. If it is needed, there is a good chance the Rithe forces will have already noticed the attack and gone for any breathing equipment they may have in storage. Once the anesthizine has had time to take effect, the door to the lowest level will be breached with a small shaped charge. Our team will then fight their way through any opposition as per standard close quarters combat techniques, securing any House Rithe prisoners as they go. Once the facility is secure, they will disable the scattering field, retrieve or destroy all records, and deploy a set of transporter pattern enhancers, which they will then use to rescue all prisoners, retrieve all unconscious or captured secret police and finally escape themselves using the same transporter facility they used for infiltration. Finally, timed explosive charges will destroy the pattern enhancers."
Again, the screen mirrored the description, zooming in to show stick-figure Yrillians breaching the door with military precision and clearing the sub-basement room by room, setting up a trio of pattern enhancers, then beaming out. Finally, the pattern enhancers disappeared in a flash.
"Following exfiltration, our team, the rescued prisoners and any captured Rithe forces will be beamed to waiting ground transports throughout the city. Rescued prisoners of a less sensitive nature will be released in solidly committee-controlled regions of the city, while any higher profile prisoners who would not be safe and captured Rithe forces will be moved to a fire-damaged office building currently being outfitted for the purpose. Our team will be driven to a location that would not arouse suspicion and transported back to the Kelsatha. Finally, the transporter will be destroyed with a low powered plasma charge to eliminate evidence. Though it is not anticipated that the Licori state will be actively monitoring transporter events, it can not be ruled out and must be planned for."
The view once again zoomed out to a map of the city, color-coded dots appearing and each tracing a line to their individual destinations, before the building with the transporter installation flashed and winked out.
"If this does not go flawlessly, we will be implicated. Even if this does go flawlessly, the government will likely have their suspicions. Our hope is that House Rithe will assume this is the work of another major house, or at minimum be unsure enough about the culprits that they choose not to openly act against us. Still, we must be prepared to leave the system in a hurry if necessary."
Ferash paused a moment to let it sink in.
"Make no mistake, this is crossing a line. If nothing else changes, House Rithe will soon decide that we are more trouble than we are worth. Well, something may just change. You know this better than I do. You've all felt the mood on the streets, heard the slogans being raised. All of you keep saying it: the next phase in the struggle is coming. Maybe what the prisoners we rescue have to say will help it come that much sooner."
The room was somber, but hopeful. Ferash gave them a decisive nod.
"Well, get to it. There's work to be done, and you've all got your own briefings with your team leaders. Let's make this happen."
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"I have an open stack. We still have plenty more on the agenda. Any final comments on this proposal before we move on?"
The chairperson had to raise her voice to be heard. The circle of striking workers was rather large, after all, and the acoustics of the open patch of factory floor over by the loading docs left something to be desired, even with all the machinery shut down.
No one moved or spoke up. A glance passed around the circle. Finally, a middle-aged Licori with a nose that had been broken and healed poorly raised his hand. The chairperson gestured towards him.
"We've said all that needs said. I say we vote!"
A ragged cheer went up from the the crowd. This time, the chair had to actually shout. "You call the question, then? Do I have a second?" Perhaps twenty hands went up before she even finished talking. "Okay, then. All in favor?"
A forest of hands rose.
"All opposed?"
A fair few, but obviously less than before.
"Abstentions?"
Just a handful. Gryer raised his hand; this wasn't his work gang, so he didn't feel that it was his place to cast a vote. They'd already heard what he thought on the matter in any case.
"The proposal passes. We'll be officially signing on to the call for a 'All-Pashida Council of Factory Committee Delegates'. We'll vote on our delegates tomorrow. Once again, under the provisional rules, we are entitled to three. Anyone who'd like to nominate someone should get those names out early so there's time to talk it over. Now, moving on to the next point… setting up more formalized rotation for night time security. Is there an 'Addarai Karakhas' here? I have you down to motivate this proposal."
An especially short woman in a grease-stained jumpsuit fought her way to the front of the crowd and began speaking about the need to maintain a full roster of guards at all times to protect the factory occupation. Gryer allowed himself to tune her out; it was an important logistical topic, but one he had no stake in and for which he had nothing to add.
He really hoped they were doing the right thing. The proposal for a council of delegates was undeniably a step forward towards worker's power, but it was a bit more hierarchical than he was entirely comfortable with. It was almost more Sydraxian Vanguard than Yrillian in form. Perhaps that couldn't be helped, without enough computers to speed up large scale democracy. He resolved to mention that in the Kelsatha's chat, maybe help put together a proposal to get mass quantities of simple tablets into the hands of the factory occupation committees. It could take up quite a bit of manufacturing capacity, but it could be very helpful going forward.
The most recent proposal wasn't the only Sydraxian thing to be catching on; the little booklets the Sydraxians had taken to handing out on how to run a meeting seemed to be seeing a lot of use, at least in a simplified form. Once again, something that worked a bit better without computers than the Yrillian equivalent. He personally found some of the intricacies a little odd, like the fact that they insisted on calling the list of names "stack" when it was obviously a priority queue, but it at least prevented people from talking over each-other too much and made sure everyone got heard.
The "factory committee" had formed shortly after the occupation had begun, as had others all over the city, all in imitation of the firefighting committees and the related neighborhood and district committees that had started coordinating essential services. It seemed that when something needed to be done, the first instinct of the people of Pashida was now to organize themselves into a sort of proto-workgang to do it. He'd read the arguments that the formation of bodies of this type was a necessary and inevitable step on the path to democratic working class self-rule, seen the case studies identifying them in countless revolutionary and pre-revolutionary situations on many different worlds, but actually seeing it in practice was something else.
The proposal had been discussed, argued over, and amended several times to produce something more satisfactory before it was eventually voted on and approved. Somehow, the entire process barely took ten minutes. Now, if Gryer remembered the agenda correctly…
"Okay, next up, we've got a request from the Yrillians to borrow one of our trucks. Gryer?"
Gryer didn't bother moving; he was tall enough and loud enough that it wasn't going to be necessary.
"Thanks once again for having me here. It's been an honor to see this. You're making history, even if it might not feel like it yet."
No one seemed to know what to make of that, so he pressed on.
"I'll get to the point. You've got a couple trucks sitting at those loading docks. You don't plan to go back to work any time soon, so they aren't going anywhere. We could use a couple trucks to help move people and supplies around the city, freeing up our transporters so we can use them for things a truck can't do. We would of course return them when the strike ends or if you ask for them back, and we'd make them available to the committees when we don't need them. They aren't doing any good here, are they?"
He swallowed nervously. For all that he'd gotten better with practice, this sort of thing wasn't exactly his specialty. At least he wasn't having to stretch the truth very far; they needed a few ground vehicles for the extraction from tonight's raid, but they'd be useful for other things too.
"I get that this is maybe a big step. Going from just occupying the means of production to taking it over in some small way. But it's your truck after all, House Halsiad bought it with the fruit of your labor. Why not let us put it to use?"
Gryer figured he'd leave it there. The chairperson shot him a look to make sure he was done; he just shrugged in response, so she jumped in.
"You all know how this works by now. Raise your hand for a comment, raise a fist for a question, I'll prioritize questions and people who haven't spoken yet." A few hands rose. "You, in the back."
"I don't see why not. Seems easy enough, and we all know how much use they've been. We should do it."
"I've got Baros next on the stack."
Another hand raised rather insistently as someone, apparently "Baros", started speaking.
"Agreeing to this is crossing a line. It's signaling that we are taking this factory, and we may not be giving it back. Senkh Halsiad is going to take note, and he won't be happy. So, it's time to ask ourselves if we are buying what the Yrillians are selling? Is this just about leverage, and protecting the committees, and getting a fair deal, or do we really think we don't need the Halsiads at all?"
Scattered cheers and applause.
"No! No! That is not what I am suggesting! None of us know the first thing about running a factory."
Someone in the crowd broke in: "Speak for yourself!" Baros was drowned out by laughter until the chairperson got things under control with a shouted "Respect the stack!"
"Look, we would be picking a fight that I don't think we can win, and I'm not even sure we should. That's all I'm saying. We need to think long and hard before we do something stupid for no good reason."
Several more hands had shot up while he was speaking. They went down as the chair made eye contact (or, if that wasn't enough, pointed) as and noted them down on a piece of paper. All except for the man who'd raised his hand before Baros started speaking, who was still stubbornly raising it as high as he could.
"Gray hat."
"Me?"
"Yeah. Go for it."
"Okay. Um. I don't see why they need it. They've got transporters and shuttles and things have mostly calmed down. What do they suddenly need trucks for? But we don't need them either. Maybe we should loan them to the firefighter's coordinating committee? They'll know where they could do the most good. And I see what Baros is saying, but I disagree. I think we crossed that line when we occupied the factory, and the boss won't see any difference. We're in trouble either way if they win."
That generated a few thoughtful nods. Meanwhile, the guy from before was still raising his hand, and had escalated to waving it back and forth a little. The chairperson was clearly getting annoyed.
"Look, I've already got you on the stack. You'll just have to wait your turn like everyone else."
He wasn't going to take no for an answer. "But it's important! Big news!"
The chairperson rubbed her temples. "Fine. But you had better not make me regret this."
"Someone found the prisoners! The ones from the Harhkude weapons plant! They're being held under the old city records building! It's all right here!" He waved a little hand-held computer. Romlan green, Gryer distantly noticed. "There's already people gathering outside and a standoff with the police and everything!"
That got everyone's attention. All it took was someone shouting "Well fuck this! I know where I'm going." to completely destroy all semblance of order. As most of the crowd headed towards the door, Gryer stepped away to let the rest of the crew know. This looked pretty bad.
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It was pretty bad.
The records office looked every bit as dreary in person, but had taken on a dystopian tinge with the addition of a police barricade. Perhaps three dozen well armed police and uniformed Rithe guards huddled behind a wall of interlocking transparent aluminum barricade sections, while a handful more watched warily from the roof as the crowd outside grew. Confused office workers could be seen peering out from the windows as the little clusters of angry demonstrators turned into hundreds.
When the spontaneous march from the factory had arrived, a group of street toughs had been hanging around the edge of the demonstration throwing rocks, debris and fireworks, brandishing clubs, and jeering. The police of course stood by and did nothing; there was hardly even a pretense that they weren't in the pay of either Rithe or a minor house with industrial interests. "Go Home / Goon Squad!" had joined the now standard anti-government chants, and plenty of bricks and rocks were being thrown right back, but Gryer saw someone go down with a solid hit to the head. Their little column of factory workers had managed to come up behind the "goon squad", and rushed them with a savagery Gryer could hardly believe, turning it into a pretty nasty brawl. By the end of it, most of the thugs had been beaten badly, but managed to slip out through an ally. Being outnumbered five to one and surrounded would do that, even when the other side was mostly unarmed.
Someone came on a megaphone shouting for the crowd to disperse, but it was obvious their heart wasn't in it. Groups of firefighters and strikers were still arriving, and there weren't enough police to do anything about it without an escalation they didn't want to risk.
A knot of Kelsatha crew coming from a sidestreet waved to Gryer and tried to make their way over to him. Someone in the crowd had thought to set up one of the transport inhibitors the Kelsatha had been manufacturing since the day before, and the police weren't the only ones being inconvenienced.
A soot-stained minibuss pulled to a stop as close as it could get and disgorged firefighters. A pair of teenagers spray-painted anti-government slogans on the building across the street. A shuttle in House Rithe livery flew overhead, made three slow passes while the police tried and failed to clear room for it to land, then gave up and dropped off another batch of Rithe guardsmen on the roof. Chants would start somewhere, spread through the crowd like wildfire, and die down only to be replaced with something else.
The other crew had finally managed to reach Gryer. Bimak raised her voice to be heard over the crowd. "You hear that?"
Gryer strained to pick up what she was referring to. Suddenly, it rose up from the crowd, spreading like the chants had been, becoming impossible to miss. The people were singing The Guns of the Baron's Men.
Gryer found himself smiling almost against his will. "This is new. A new phase in the struggle. Things are moving, and fast."
Bimak shook her head and smiled sadly.
"No, that." She gestured towards the line of police and Rithe guards, including the one still futilely bellowing into a megaphone. "That's the sound of a perfectly good plan smashing into a million pieces. What the fuck are we supposed to do now?"
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[X][OFF] BV Investigation and Asset Building
ClawClawBite
Mad Engineering!
- Location
- Seattle, WA
I would suggest 'Scram' for emergency escape. It has a nice sense of hasty panic.