Mass Effect PbP Game Thread

[Elemental_Elf]

[ic=T'Parn Network Message]To: Squad 7
Message:
 --- CEO Dikos requests your presence at the Site 44 '" the Flame's Keep '" at 18:30 GSD. Be sure you aren't followed.

-   Secretary Akinna D'Arras

Message Attachment:
--- Encrypted Pass Key
[/ic]

[IC=The Flame's Keep]You find yourselves in the Flame's Keep, a secret T'Parn bunker located inside the Odal Foundry, a fully automated ore processing facility operated by T'Soki Industries. The entrance to the Flame's Keep, which is protected by kinetic barriers, lies at the center of the maze-like foundry. The room itself is quite cozy, perhaps 10 meters by 10 meters square. Looking into the bunker from the doorway, the left and right walls are lined with many different chairs, each of which appears to be designed to seat the diverse anatomies of the most common races. On the back wall lies a Holo Screen, displaying the latest stock numbers as well as a picture of a Volus. The room is quite dark, being lit by a single light on the ceiling and the eerie glow of the Holo Screen. The room in empty, save for the four members of Squad 7. [/IC]

[note][ooc]The Flame's Keep is in Nos Astra, Illium.

Feel free to describe how your character arrived at the Flame's Keep. I posed the second IC to get the ball rolling.   [/ooc][/note]

[note=Character Sheets][ooc][spoiler=Kai]
Kai (KIE) Rijinder
Medium Humanoid
Human Noble 2

Strength 10
Dexterity 14
Constitution 10
Intelligence 14
Wisdom 12
Charisma 17

Hit Points 18+1d6
Damage Threshold: 12

Defense
Fortitude 12
Reflex 17
Will 15

Shield Rating 5

Base Attack Bonus +1
Combat Knife +1, 1d4
"Noisy Cricket" (Hold-Out Blaster), +3, 3d4
M-29 Incisor (Hunting Blaster Carbine), +3 3d8 (3d10 Critical)
Terminator Assault Rifle (Blaster Carbine +2 to hit) +5 3d8

Speed 6 squares

Skills
Trained: Deception +14 (+19 Disguise/Forgery), Gather Information +9, K (Bureaucracy) +8, K (Social Sciences) +8, K (Tactics) +8, Persuasion +9, Pilot +8, Use Computer +8.

Feats
Linguist, Master of Disguise, Skill Focus (Deception), Armor Proficiency (Light), Weapon Proficiency (Pistol, Rifle, Simple)


Talents
Get Into Position

Languages
Batarian, Common, Frisian, Krogan, Quarian, Salarian, Turian


Equipment
Combat Jumpsuit + Climbing Claws
Hunting Carbine + Rangefinder + Targeting Scope
Short-Range Commlink (Video)
Pocket Scrambler
Utility Belt
All-Temp Cloak
Omni-Tool
Camouflage Poncho
465 Credits[/spoiler]

[spoiler=Salana ]Name Salana 'Sal' T'Sara Race Asari Class Noble 1 / Soldier 1
Age 436 Height 6'0' Weight 175 lbs

Strength 14
Dexterity 16
Constitution 14
Intelligence 10
Wisdom 14
Charisma 12

Hit Points 32
Damage Threshold 16
Shield Rating 5

Defenses
Fortitude 16
Reflex 22
Will 16

Speed 4 (6 without armor)

Base Attack Bonus 1
Melee Attack Bonus 3
Ranged Attack Bonus 5

Skills
Use Biotics 7
Deception 7
Initiative 4
Knowledge (tactics) 6
Perception 8
Persuasion 12
Treat Injury 8

Feats
Biotic Training
Weapon Proficiency (pistols)
Weapon Proficiency (rifles)
Weapon Proficiency (simple weapons)
Armor Proficiency (light)
Armor Proficiency (medium)
Skill Focus (Persuasion)
Weapon Focus (rifles)

Talents
Wealth
Weapon Specialization (rifles)

Biotic Powers
Lift
Warp

Attack Modifier Damage
Improvised Rifle Melee -2 1d6+2
ICWS Rifle 6 3d8+2
ICWS Sniper 6 (4 point blank) 3d10+2
Gorgon Assault Rifle 6 3d8+4

Credits 300
Equipment :
Omni-Tool
Kinetic Barrier Shield
Power Suit
Interchangeable Weapon System (Galaxy At War)

Max Weight 98
Carried 25

Languages
Asari
Common[/spoiler]

[spoiler=Lini'Leera]Name: Lini'Leera vas Quee-Queeg.
Class: Scoundrel 2
Species: Quarian
Gender: Female
Age: 23
Height: 5'4"
Weight: 108

STR 8 -1
DEX 16 +3
CON 8 -1
INT 18 +4
WIS 12 +1
CHA 10 +0

HP: 17 + 1d6-1
Damage Threshold: 11
Base Armor/Level Ability Class
Fort 11= 10 + 2 - 1 + 0
Ref 16= 10 + 2 + 2 + 2
Will 14= 10 + 2 + 1 + 1

+1 BAB

Knife +0 1d4-1 .5kg P/S
Hold-Out Pistol +4 3d4 .5kg Energy +5 Stealth to conceal
Heavy Blaster +4 3d8 1.3kg Energy
Ion Pistol +4 3d6 1kg Ion*
Ion Damage: Half damage to Organic. Full damage to Synthetic/Vehicle/Cybernetic. If hit reduces HP to 0, target drops 5 steps on condition track. If damage equals or exceeds target damage threshhold, target drops 2 steps on condition track.

Talents
Dastardly Strike: Whenever you make a successful attak against an opponent that is denied its Dexterity bonus to Reflex Defense, the target moves -1 step along the condition track.

Feats
Point Blank Shot
Precise Shot
Skill Focus (Mechanic)
Use Tech (Combat Drone, Tech Armor)
Weapon Proficiency (Pistols, Simple Weapons)

Skills: Bonus Level Ability Trained Other
Gather Information +6 = 1 + 0 + 5
Initiative +9 = 1 + 3 + 5
K (Galactic Lore) +10 = 1 + 4 + 5
K (Physical Sciences) +10 = 1 + 4 + 5
K (Technology) +10 = 1 + 4 + 5
Mechanic +15 = 1 + 4 + 5 + 5
Perception +7 = 1 + 1 + 5
Stealth +9 = 1 + 3 + 5
Use Computer +10 = 1 + 4 + 5
Use Tech +10 = 1 + 4 + 5

Languages: Asari, Common, Quarian, Salarian, Turian, Volus

Tech Powers
AI Hacking
Combat Drone (x2)
Cryo Blast
Tech Armor

Equipment:

Utility Belt Free
Omni-Tool (Datapad) Free
Knife 25
Hold-Out blaster Pistol 450
Heavy Blaster Pistol 900
Ion Pistol 265
Security Kit 750
Tool Kit 250
Commlink, Short, Video) 50
Datacards (Blank) [10] 10
Power Pack [2] 50
Mesh Tape 5

305 Credits

Racial:
Ability Mods: +2 Intelligence, -2 Constitution
- Medium Size
- Speed: 6 Squares
- Vulnerability to Disease: Quarians receive a -2 modifier to their Fortitude Defense against Diseases.
- Mechanics: All Quarians are considered trained in Mechanics. This is a bonus trained skill
- Cooperative Spirit: Quarians can aid another on skill checks made by adjacent allies as a swift action. Adjacent allies can also aid another on skill checks made by an adjacent Quarian as a swift action. This ability can only be used with the following skills: Gather Information, Knowledge (any), Mechanics, Pilot, Ride, Treat Injury and Use Computer.
- Conditional Bonus Feat: If a Quarian is trained in Use Computer, she may choose Skill Focus (Mechanics) or Skill Focus (Use Computer) as a bonus feat.
- Languages: Quarian and Common[/spoiler]

[spoiler=Archimedes]Statistics

Archimedes

Medium Humanoid

Vorcha Savant ["Scoundrel"] 2

Strength 8

Dexterity 12

Constitution 10

Intelligence 20

Wisdom 10

Charisma 10

Hit Points 23

Defense

Fortitude 14

Reflex 19

Will 13

Damage Threshold 13

Shield Rating 5

Attack

Base Attack Bonus +1

Melee Attack Bonus +0

Ranged Attack Bonus +2 (+3 within Point Blank range): M-6 Carnifex Heavy Pistol 3d8

Speed 6 squares

Skills

Trained: Initiative +12, Knowledge (Galactic Lore) +11, Knowledge (Physical Sciences) +11, Knowledge (Life Sciences) +11, Mechanics +11, Perception +6, Pilot +12, Use Computer +13, Use Tech +11.

Feats

Skill Focus (Pilot), Skill Focus (Initiative), Tech Training, Point Blank Shot, Weapon Proficiency (pistols), Weapon Proficiency (simple weapons)

Talents

Savant (Computer Use)

Tech Powers

AI Hacking (x2), Tech Armour (x2), Overload (x2)

Languages

Common, Quarian, Vorcha, Turian, Asari, Salarian

Age 6

Equipment

Padded Flight Suit
M-6 Carnifex Heavy Pistol
Omni-Tool
2 Medi-Gel Packs
Shield Battery
Utility Belt
Security Kit
Rubik's Cube[/spoiler]
[/ooc][/note]

[LD]

Fair warning: Language is censored mostly. I will probably tone it down further in future posts, but as a reference post- this is how Lini'Leera thinks and talks.

[ic=Lini'Leera - Entrapment or "Dox'd"]
"Really now? Really? Some Boshtet code monkey saw me on the T'Parn Sec Network, and this is how they try to screw me?"

Lini looked down at the email; a contract of adhesion. It wouldn't stand up in any court of law--it was clearly one filled with duress, clicking no certainly activated a "doomsday virus" that would revoke her Passport, scramble her identity and destroy her credit.

"I can recover from this." Lini'Leera mused. "Best way to get out of a Boshtet pit is to crack more."

"Then again." Lini'Leera read the lines of code again, following the Firm's indication of how they tracked her through their network, and a trail of where she had been on a bevy of Illium's networks for the past few months. "They managed to latch on to three of my five identities and they went around the firewall of my logic bomb without setting it off--that's gutsy."

Her eyes sparkled.

"That's interesting."

She read the offer more closely.

"All right 'Archimedes', I'll accept. Let's just hope your little 'bathtub of inspiration' doesn't drain out before we've 'Gone a 'Roving' into the night and made Volus-sized shipmentloads of cash. Besides," she laughed, "It's not like I actually have to follow any contract to the letter; I'll just hack to adjust."

She got out a second OmniTool, entered the Sec Network's systems, changed a few words, then laughed and went back to the original contract--which updated. She then clicked accept. Leaning back, she reflected on the words in the PS. Archimedes' words were strange, like a sort of code, but before entering into decryption mode, she ran a SubNet search on her backup OmniTool.

"Human poem that." She frowned. "Ugh. Bested by a human." A chill ran down her spine. "-Least it wasn't a Krogan."[/ic]

[ic=Lini'Leera -Planning]Lini'Leera hummed to herself, copying the CEO's message onto a datapad file while Krogan deathmetal played in the background.* She encrypted it and uploaded the words to InterCred's banking database under a new identity's vault files**. The message was wrapped with a failsafe protection wrapper. If no activation code was received from her with the proper key in thirty days, the data would be released--the message and all the little bits and pieces and scandals and evidence of twits she'd gathered from the T'Parn net. Once canceled, she'd close out the account and the identity; T'Parn would easily track her movements once she joined them, even easier than it had before.

Typing scatter scatter, she flipped up an email and encrypted it with a double-failsafe 128-letter key: "Welcome to the b****inist party place for hardcore methamphetamine deals- Site 44- Flame's Keep. Party courtesy Secretary Akinna D'Arras. The email revealed intimate details about how to get to the planet--interstellar coordinates--and it promised a key to a discrete bank account where earnest money was secured (not her money--just some money secreted by a bunch of kroganheaded fools who set their passwords with only ONE biometric identification signature that could be so ****ing easily tied to the Genetic Database records at their birth-hospitals--no one ever learned how boshtet-stupid that was).

She set up the email on the Cloud's redundant databases and wrote a program-dat to forward it to all the names in her 'Journalists' and 'Drugrunners' address categories in thirty days unless canceled.

She stretched, cracking her muscles as she twisted her head around in a soothing circle. "Pity everyone else is a boshtet-loaded-thresher-maw-trustlessworthy Husk." She tapped fingers against the side of her datapad. "T'would be a better failsafe. Email's gonna be hacked. The Cloud's gonna fail. I can be tracked. They've probably bugged me-yeah f****ers- ****** ***** eat ***** boshtet **************.

She keyed off the Krogan deathmetal, which had been stuck on a guttural growling war-cry yell for the past several minutes. "With luck you boshtet ******** didn't hear anything thanks to this sub-Quarian racket I've filled your *****ing ***** ***** ears with ******ers."

"Oh yeah." She stood up in the mostly-empty storage room. "I know you're looking at me Archimedes--alien pervert--And I'm coming to you; gonna reveal just what you want; let you see it all, touch it all, pay for it--see how you like someone getting all up in your business. You get the time of the day-but only just because you're good enough to hit this." She gestured at her face with a thick scoop of air. "Find out a few of my identities **** me over; knowing you'll be fun, pervert--just make it worthwhile to me or I'll **** you harder than a Krogan orgy gets ****ed by a p****load of Asari Commandos with their whory hair-hardons."

Lini'Leera left the room, replacing the cracked lock and giving it a twist with her Omnitool to replace it at the right angle. Then she hacked it back into service.

She pressed another button on her OmniTool and appeared again on the ship's spectroscopic sensors, seeming as though she hobbled out of her rented room, clutching a bottle of Batarian Brew. The drone-loop playing in her room ended and she started recharging Trillian with her OmniTool's fusion core.


*Krogan Deathmetal Band - Maw Destroyers.
**Wade Gao, Human entrepreneur.

[note]
"Squad 7." Sure know how to welcome a Quarian. Pick the unluckiest number; one shorter than 8-the full Squad number- double the ideal family unit-a unit to preserve the number of the fleet without straining resources. ****ing ignorant Volus foreigners.
[/note]
[/ic]

[ic=Lini'Leera - Departure]

"Ancestors... ****." Lini'Leera paused as she stepped into the rental solo spacepod. She was deep in Asari space; near Nos Astra, the planet the message indicated.

She looked around the Volus-flagship Inevitable Inevitability's docking bay and sneered. Money, status, safety --T'Parn offered two of three and the Fleet only offered one. Subservience, Loyalty, Fellowship T'Parn required at least two of the three; the Fleet required all three. T'Parn was an improvement--if they weren't out to screw her.

Lini'Leera shuddered and turned to leave the docking bay. This was wrong for her. She did not belong under a fascist hierarchy that ordered her and caged her discretion and killed freedom and hope. Music played over the loudspeakers, electronic techno, from a Human-Volus transspecies collaboration. She paused, placed a hand over her face, and another turned off her hearing amplifier--she hated that music, it sounded like malfunctioning mechanics and engines--the nightmare of every Quarian--to be stranded in deep space, alone, away from the fleet, unable to complete one's Pilgrimage, with nothing to offer the fleet. Adrift. Lost. Gone.

Lini'Leera found herself in the space pod, queuing the systems, setting them on autopilot for Flame's Keep.

Her pod launched, by itself, the last before maintenance took the bay offline.

[/ic]

At the Meeting
[ic=Lini'Leera -Arrival]

Lini'Leera keeps to the back of the room, seething about what the **** kind of joke is being played on her. Here she is, in a room with a ****ing Vorcha, an Asari Commando who would give a Vorcha a run for the title of 'dumbest thing in the room', and a human... at least the human looked like the quality of person who she'd be associating with--maybe he was that *** Archimedes. She stared at him, then dismissed the thought; he didn't look clever enough.

She'd been allowed to keep her blasters, and she had her fingers on one of them. She pretended to fiddle with her OmniTool, not responding when spoken to, except with a wave away with her hand.

She sat in a chair made for a Krogan--uncomfortable to a Quarian physique (she sunk down way far into it and needed to pivot slightly to avoid the alternating round and jagged Krogan beads on its bottom, beads that massaged a Krogan's tough physique, but which prodded and poked at her suit like knives)--but why the hell would she trust that the Quarian chair wouldn't be trapped? Besides, she could use this chair's shell to conceal herself.

Lini'Leera waited.

[/ic]

[Steerpike]

[ic=Outside Nos Astra]Archimedes smiled; a frightening thing for a vorcha to do.  He sat in a columned marble room in his apartment on Illium; apart from the dull red glow of the simulated fire in the holo-hearth the only illumination was the dimming smoulder of Tasale and the cold, ever-flickering light of the dozen gilt-framed monitors that surrounded his chair.

"She really is magnificently vulgar," he murmured to himself, replaying the quarian's amusing tirade again.  "Almost lyrical.  A true gift for the obscene..." The quarian's talents, of course, extended well beyond profanity: it had been a genuine challenge, and a keen pleasure, to circumvent the myriad traps and prolix digital fortifications she armoured her multifarious identities with.  Chasing her through the labyrinth of T'Parn's network had banished a migraine for hours.  Now, as his synapses cooled, the pain already began to grow again; in a few hours it would be truly excruciating.  It would take solving a 7^5 5-cube on his Omni-Tool to quiet the pain enough for him to sleep.

Archimedes' sleek grey cat, Mycroft, twined itself around his legs as the vorcha's talons skittered across the console, sifting through a morass of information.  Tomorrow he would take a company car into town to Odal Foundry, to meet the rest of "Squad 7."  The meeting, and the subsequent assignment, held the potential to stave off the throbbing agony beneath his skull for quite some time...[/ic]
[ic=The Flame's Keep]Archimedes hums the tune to Berlioz' La damnantion de Faust while tapping away at a holo-program on his Omni-Tool - a diverting puzzle-game of his own design, 'Zarathustra's Paradox' - with the claws of his left hand while his right casually takes out and solves a 3x3 Rubik's Cube.

He darts a quick, surreptitious glance at the other individuals gathered in the room with him.  A pity he can't see the quarian's face; the mixture of puzzlement, annoyance, and incredulity sure to play across her features when she realizes she was snared by a vorcha would have been satisfying.  From what he can see she's impossibly tense - pretending to fidget with her Omni-Tool, tapping her fingers against the pistols at her waist, like they were in some kind of cantina backroom and she expected someone to pull a gun.

He catches a whiff of the asari: a mixture of sweat, cigar smoke, elasa, krogan ryncol, and the weird, eldritch tang of element zero.  One doesn't need to be fully versed on the latest theories in proxemecist paralinguistics and kinesics, as he is, to notice the giant chip on her shoulder; she and the quarian have that in common.  She looks like it's been too long since she's hit someone and that waiting around in this bunker isn't helping matters.

The human is the hardest to pin down; Archimedes can tell the man is very conscious of how he presents himself - a practiced manipulator.  Like the asari he smells of nicotine and booze (turian faux-Terran scotch, a good enough imitation to fool most palettes); unlike the asari he doesn't radiate aggression and braggadocio from every pore of his body.

"That chair really can't be comfortable," he says presently, without looking up from his game.[/ic]

[Ninja D!]

[note=Open Dossier]Operative Name Salana "Sal" T'Sara
Born [CLASSIFIED]-[CLASSIFIED]-1748, to [CLASSIFIED] and [CLASSIFIED], at Artemis Tau Cluster - Sparta System - [CLASSIFIED] - [CLASSIFIED]
Specialization Combat, Ranged Combat, Sharpshooter

[CLASSIFIED][ERROR = 12 DEFAULT LINES READING "[CLASSIFIED]"]

Personal History [CLASSIFIED][ERROR = 147 DEFAULT LINES READING "[CLASSIFIED]"][ERROR = DATA HAS BEEN REMOVED][ERROR = GENERAL ERROR]

Service History Joined as active operative 23-February-2168. [CLASSIFIED][ERROR = 27 DEFAULT LINES READING "[CLASSIFIED]"][ERROR = DATA HAS BEEN REMOVED][ERROR = LINKS HAVE BEEN REMOVED][ERROR = GENERAL ERROR]

Psychological Profile [ERROR = DATA HAS BEEN REMOVED]

[AMMENDMENT ADDED 10-January-2184 BY Administrator 12A][MESSAGE DICTATED ELECTRONICALLY][BEGIN MESSAGE]"I don't know how that slut keeps doing this to her personnel file. By all accounts she's totally inept with computers and all technology that doesn't relate to sex or killing. I really don't know when we'll get to restoring her profile this time. The backups appear to have been wiped. The short version is she's a bitch but she's very good at what she does. Oh, yeah, and having her on a mission voids certain parts of our personal insurance policy. So, yeah...watch out. End dictation."[END MESSAGE][/note][ic=Recruitment]February 20th, 2168
Omega

Salana sat in her chair, checking her messages on her omni-tool, which was linked into the extranet. That service didn't come cheap on Omega, Aria made sure of it. The chair was the only piece of furniture in the first room of her small two room apartment. The second room held only a bed. The chair was comfortable and sitting in it while checking her messages had become a sort of daily ritual. It was odd, considering that she was usually pragmatic and she usually ended up deleting all the messages without opening them.

Sometimes she read the junk mail, just for entertainment. Her favorites were the ones that claimed to be from a salarian prince. His story was always the same and his name was always different, probably the result of some automated randomizing algorithm on some equally impersonal mass mailing server. The prince was always looking to get out of legal trouble and would pay handsomely for help, all you had to do was send back your credit account number.

For about the last week, there had been a new message showing up every day. The sender was a T'Parn Security and Investigations Firm and the subject line always said something about a job offer. The message showed up like clockwork and was deleted without being read just as regularly. Today, that message seemed to be missing and Salana hoped they'd given up. When she wanted to work, she was perfectly capable of finding it on her own.

Today, one message caught her eye. It seemed to be a simple advertisement. The sender was Live It Up Bar and the subject line read, 'Grand Opening Ladies Night!!! Asari drink free!' Salana opened the message and found that the first thing in its body was an image of a beautiful, dark haired, human woman. The woman was visible from the midsection up in profile. Before Sal got the chance to scroll down further, the woman in the image moved, revealing that she was actually seeing a video. 'Hello, Salana,' the woman said. 'My name is Chelsea Klonde, I was hoping you could spare me a minute of your time.' A live feed, then. Salana was now sure that this message was not actually from any bar.

A grin crossed Salana's face. It was a look she considered her hunter's grin because she always found herself wearing it when she was after a certain type of 'prey'. 'For a treat like you, I'm sure I can spare a solid 20 minutes, any time you want it.'

Chelsea appeared to blush. 'Well, thank you,' she said. 'I have a job offer for you from the T'Parn Security and Investigations Firm. You have a reputation and, based on our research, it is well-deserved. We'd like you to come work for us as a special operative, primarily for security contracts.'

'Are there other girls like you there? No, nevermind. Where is this job?'

'The T'Parn Firm is based on Illium,' Chelsea replied, 'but the work could take you elsewhere. The pay is also highest tier.'

Salana had been to Illium before, pretty early on in her maiden days. There were no humans there then. 'Alright, I'm in. I was getting bored here, anyway. When do I--'

'We've arranged for you to leave in the morning, via private shuttle.' As the human woman answered the unfinished question, a small notification appeared on the screen of Salana's omni-tool. The subject line was cut short but it was obviously a confirmation message of some sort.

The rough faced asari nodded. 'Good, I still have a night to see this place off. There's just one thing; I think your message promised me free drinks.'

Chelsea was clearly surprised. 'Yes, it,' she hesitated. 'Yes, of course. I'll transfer some money to your account to make good on that.'

There was another new message notification on the omni-tool's screen. This one said that 50 credits had just been transferred into Salana's personal account. She nearly laughed, 'You said you knew me by reputation. If that's true, you know 50 credits ain't going to cut it.'

Again, Chelsea was surprised. She appeared to quickly check something on the screen of a computer to her side. 'Of course, I'm sorry.' Another notification of a new message appeared, this one stating that an additional 350 credits had been deposited into Salana's personal account.

'Thank you,' Sal said, as she got up out of her chair. 'I expect to see you, personally, when I get off that shuttle.' The human woman began to speak, probably in protest, as Salana closed the message and put her omni-tool into standby mode. Her face still wore that hunter's grin. She'd be spending the evening in Afterlife and tonight, she admitted to herself as she thought of the girl called Chelsea, she would be looking for some human company.[/ic][ic=The Message]Salana was lying on the floor of her Ilium apartment, looking up at the ceiling. It was mostly a boring thing, made of several large, metal plates. There were two lights on it, each one near to a door. There were also two scorch marks that were Sal's unintentional contribution to the decor several years ago. The entire apartment was very small for someone with as much money as Sal, especially on Ilium.

She wore the form fitted jumpsuit that is made for beneath her armor. She didn't have the process down to a science she could explain in any way but she always knew when she was going to get another job. This day seemed like it had been just long enough since the last one, so she waited at the ready. Raising one arm slowing up into the air, she blocked one of the lights with her cigar. She carefully admired the wisps of smoke flowing smoothly from its lit end before bringing it back down, once again very slowly, to her lips for a long, deep drag. As she did this her omni-tool chirped. 'Priority message received,' it said in a synthetic voice. All omni-tools had this feature, most people just found it annoying and turned it off. Sal left it on because it often seemed impressive to simple girls when the notification sounded.

Sal closed her eyes slowly and held them shut for several seconds, taking another drag from her cigar. 'And so it begins again,' she said to her self, as softly as her rough voice could manage. She raised her arm so that the omni-tool was in front of her face. She paused a moment to admire the device. The core of it was made of dark metal, like nearly everything else, but when it was activated a much larger, holographic device seemed to appear out of nowhere. The lit up portion of hers was light purple, only a little darker than lavender. In her current, less-than-sober state, it looked mesmerizing as the faint wisps of smoke from her cigar trailed through it. She used her left hand to select the new message on the screen and read it carefully. Then she read it again, and again. She memorized the message and then deleted it.

When she let both arms fall to the floor on either side of her, she accidentally tipped over a glass on her right side. The blue contents, some cheap liquor she had picked up down in the market, spilled onto the rough, tightly-woven carpet. 'Damn.' Not bothering to clean the spill up, Sal put out her cigar and stood to prepare for work.[/ic][ic=Arrival]Salana approached the door of the bunker incautiously. Rarely was anyone foolish enough to follow her. If they had, they could be dealt with easily enough. She took one last drag from her cigar, then put it out on the side of the building before submitting to the scan required to enter. When that was finished, she waved her omni-tool in front of the control panel to transmit her identification code and the door opened.

Entering the room, she looked at each individual that was there in turn. All of them were new to her, though she'd seen limited dossiers on most. She wasn't supposed to have of course but there were benefits to keeping a girlfriend that worked in the data entry and records department of the firm. Benefits other than the obvious, that is. The vorcha she'd seen on a monitor at headquarters before. Someone had been speaking with him, as strange as that had seemed at the time it seemed even stranger now. There had been no dossier on him in the files she'd been given.

Sal's armor was metallic and covered her entire body from just below the neck to her feet. It had no gaps or open joints. Judging by the noise when she walked, it was easy to tell that the suit was mechanized in some way. There were many visible dents and scratches. Saying it looked heavy used was an understatement. It looked like it had been to Hell and back. Maybe it even had. Despite all the damage, a careful inspection would reveal that there were chips of dark purple paint in many places. Likely, such paint once covered the entire suit. Mounted on the back of the armor was a rifle that seemed to be made from many extremely small parts, almost like a jigsaw puzzle, which could be clearly seen by any passive observer.

The battle-worn asari then walked across the room and round a chair designed for turians, just as she always did. As she sat, she removed the rifle from her back and placed it flat on her lap in one fluid motion.[/ic]

[CoyoteCamouflage]

[ic=The Invitation]"So someone wants me bad enough to go through the trouble of actually tracking me down and composing a letter that would make a Krogan's head explode. I wonder why?" The question was rhetorical, yet there was no one else present to hear the spoken words. The speaker's teeth clamped down on an unlit cigar. He considered the glass of Terran Scotch sitting on the small table beside him before removing the cigar. Real tobacco. Much too good to waste here and now. He placed it back in its case and back safely into his coat pocket.

As he pondered this latest development, the newest trend of Techno music played at a steady, hypnotic beat outside of his private booth. Night clubs, with their overly loud, terrible music, had never featured high on his list of welcome locations. But there was no denying the usefulness of the place-- public, but far more private than most suspected, and in that same vague twilight of mistaken certainty is where much of his skills lay.

He took a quiet sip of Scotch, savoring the Terran delicacy-- it had cost a small fortune to get a bottle from Earth, but considering it hadn't been his money at the time, he considered it quite the steal.

"T'Parn Security and Investigation." He spoke the name aloud, tasting the spoken name as he would a new drink. "I wonder, just how much do you know, hmm? You must know the official details, of course," he speaks to the message displaying on his omni-tool as if it were a person right beside him. "But I am curious about just how much you know about what really happened. To me, and what I've been up to since they cut me loose." He grins broadly and shakes his head with a sharp laugh, his blonde hair flashing messily with the act. "Or perhaps you simply understand the kinds of 'marketable skills' they teach us in the military these days."

He downs the final measure of his drink and sighs wistfully. "And you have ships. Maybe this won't be so terrible after all."

He reaches over and presses a button near the door. In a few seconds, it opens, revealing a smiling-- and in Kai's opinion, scantily clad-- human server.

"What do you need, Mr. Riggy'ander?"

He couldn't help but laugh at the complete butchering of his given name. The server smiled slightly in response, but otherwise gave away nothing else by her reaction. He had been coming here for months now, and still, the accents these spacers spoke in seemed to preclude them from anything remotely close to his actual name. Perhaps it was more accurate to call it a form of game by now. Much to his chagrin, such a triviality had proven a fun diversion. Apparently, much entertaining of life did come down to the small things in it.

"I'll be closing down my tab today, Miri. It seems that I am to be taking my business off-station for awhile, and I do not know when I will be returning."

"Ah, of course, Mr. Riggy'ander. I will inform Lynn, and she will be here shortly with the bill due."

Kai nodded politely to the woman as she turned to seek someone above her pay-grade, then he leaned back in his chair and wondered if this was going to be a better run than the last time. The Varrens-- a juvenile attempt to seem scary, surely-- but answering only to the president? Very interesting. Maybe this was what he had been waiting for-- but would it prove to be his big break or the next-closest thing to a firing squad? His guess was as good as anyone's, but he'd be damn sure to try to skew the odds however he could along the way.

Now his potential would not be restricted by the incompetence of those having a greater rank than he. Redemption? Justice? Are those what he wants from this? Does any of it really matter in the end? There is only one way he is going to find out.

"Officier aan dek..."[/ic]

[note= Discharge]
Anyone with access to Alliance Military information in any measure-- or even a keen eye on the news surrounding Alliance Military may recognize Kai Rijinder. Kai was dishonorably discharged from the Alliance Military following a disastrous accident during a routine training exercise. The Heavy Cruiser Helsinger was badly damaged, requiring an extensive refit and repair in a dry-dock. Total casualties numbered nearly one-third of the crew, with most of the fatalities coming from the forward batteries, not Engineering, as would be expected from the Captain's testimony.

The cause of the accident is still unclear, and though a lack of clear evidence prevented him from receiving prison time, he was still dishonorably discharged in an effort for the Alliance Systems Military to maintain a reputable image in the eyes of the populace.[/note]

[ic= The Message]
"Flame Keep. Silly name. But it's on Nos Astra, so I suppose there must be something lost in translation." He leans back in his chair and smiles. The military had taught him the basics of enduring space travel, but they had never even pretended to make comfort a matter of importance.

The civilian sector, on the other hand, had more than enough time and energy to devote to luxury, and while Kai felt uncomfortable with the sheer opulence of the truly top-tier levels of comfort-- or pampering, as he sometimes viewed it-- even the basic amenities to travelers far out-did anything the Alliance had yet managed.

Of course, little stopped Kai from indulging in some luxury when he could, so he had taken the trip to Illium from the Citadel on one of the more expensive ships-- nothing fabulously opulent, but something great enough to show that he at least had some means (or that he was busy pretending to be someone of such means).

That meant pleasant staff, food that probably wouldn't endure an Apocalypse, and drinks that didn't make him want to wretch.

All in all, a truly fine way to travel these days, even if he had considered the curiosity of the secrecy of his new employers. He raised a drink to them for their timely intervention of... well, something. Maybe. No, not really. He had been doing nothing worth mentioning when he got his invitation, so it had seemed a little too good to be true. So when does it prove itself to be be?[/ic]

[ic=Meeting Minutes]
Finding the bunker had been an enlightening experience, and it had informed Kai that his employer was someone who seemed ready and willing to take these tasks and give them the due consideration that they deserved. In other words, they just might prove to be able to survive whatever insane jobs these politicians were  plotting to get them killed.

The company itself, however, is what made Kai's cautious suspicion fall through the floor. The Asari-- as gruff and terse as she appeared, was a common enough quality on Illium and hardly something that struck Kai as singularly odd. Even the Quarian-- which seemed angry and terse enough to be a Krogan in all but size-- was an unexpected participant next to the Vorcha.

Hailing largely from Alliance and Citadel space, Kai was at least passingly familiar with the gypsy-like Quarians. The Vorcha was something else entirely-- in this moment, Kai was forced to draw only upon his recollections on how to fight them. The lesson had a blunt charm to it: Fire, apply to target until nothing remains.

This particular Vorcha, however, seemed very out of place. It did not behave like Kai expected vermin to behave, and it seemed to be amusing itself with... video games, if that seemed at all right. Maybe the Alliance-- and the rest of the Galaxy, apparently, was wrong about the Vorcha. Or maybe their policies on them existed for a reason...

Kai cannot help but grin as the Vorcha starts to quip at the Quarian. Obviously, the seat was well and surely unfit for a Quarian, and her obvious discomfort made Kai briefly wonder just what kind of collection of odd-balls and weirdos he was now included with. He, however, decided to choose a human seat, pleased that the seat was comfortable in and of itself, more than just being ergonomic for human anatomy. If this was a sign of things to come, he could definitely get used to it.

Kai finds himself in no need to draw any more attention to himself than necessary, and so he is quite content to resign himself to observing how the others move, talk, and otherwise interact with each other and the room. The Quarian is where she is, and the Vorcha is... being entirely unlike any Vorcha Kai has ever heard of; the Asari, at least, seems rather normal. Perhaps tougher than the average Asari on Illium (at least away from the trading table), she still seems at least somewhat normal in Kai's mind. How true or not this fact is remains unknown.

"Is anyone else yet to arrive, or this all of us who will be coming?" he queries politely to the small group, unsure if any of them are even aware of the answer to his question. No doubt introductions will be either shortly coming, or have a place and time aside from now. He reaches up to flick aside his blonde hair from his eyes, silently chiding himself for not bothering to see to it previously. He smiles warmly to the others, attempting to at least make the semblance of friendliness.[/ic]

[Elemental_Elf]

[ic=The Flame's Keep]Just as the words leave Kai's mouth, the door swings open and in walks an unusually tall Krogan clad in gilded armor with silver pinstripes racing from the neck to the feet. Attached to his armor is a flowing cape with a picture of a triumphant Krogan (presumably himself) standing atop a verdant blood stained field, thrusting a decapitated head of a Turian into a stormy sky. Above the image are the words '" 'Loathe one another with uncompassionate hatred. Outdo one another in showing of blood' written in a chilling blue ink that is all too reminiscent of genuine Turian blood.

The Krogan carries a colossal gun that would not look out of place mounted on a small spacecraft, the word 'horde' etched into the side of the barrel. His face is painted, or perhaps tattooed (it is hard to tell in this light), a deep lavender with bright white symbols reminiscent of the T'Parn corporate logo surrounding each of his eyes. As he walks forward, he gives each of you a gruff look, then belches out 'The name's Ranom and if any of you wide-eyed, dopey looking, flea-ridden, jellyfish ridding, pyjak babies steps out of line in front of the boss,' he motions with his gun, 'Horde here will make sure to blast you back to your disease-ridden whore of a pyjack brood mare you called mommy.'

As the Krogan finishes his outburst, a very round, almost spherical Drell rolls into the room. The Drell, wearing a finely tailored business suit crafted in the latest styles found on Earth carries himself with the confidence of a wealthy man surrounded by yes-men. His almost iridescent amber tie appears to light up the dimly-lit room almost as much as his strikingly white teeth. 'You'll have to excuse my companion, he is a bit,' the Drell pauses for a moment, searching for the correct term, 'loyal. Yes, Ranom is very loyal. At any rate, my name is CEO Dikos and I have been tasked by President Von Geld to assign you your very first task as members of Squad Seven of the elite Varrens division."

The Krogan lets out and audible grunt of disapproval at the use of the word 'elite'.

'Yes'¦ Well,' the Drell shoots the Krogan a very disapproving glare, scolding the caped-bodyguard  for interrupting what the CEO's obviously believed to be a finely crafted introduction. 'At any rate, before we begin the briefing, my lovely assistant Nani here will field any questions you may have while I fiddle with the Holo Screen.'

A very timid, almost scared Asari, dressed in a very loose knee-length, light brown skirt and a disheveled, long-sleeve white blouse walks into the room carrying four small briefcases. She nervously walks near each of you and places one of the obsidian-colored briefcases in front of you, quickly moving on to the next squad member as soon as the briefcase touches the ground. Following this, she fearfully stands at the front of the room, looking directly at the floor and very quietly asks 'Are'¦ Are there any questions'¦?'
[/ic]

[LD]

[ic=No Questions Asked; No Questions Answered]Lini'Leera pays no overt attention to the Krogan. Although she looks up when the thing enters the room, once she determines it poses no immediate threat; she only shoots it a side glance as it rants. The words of a Krogan, like the words of a fool, are full of bluster and fury, and not worth attention beyond the fact that the creature is yapping and perhaps is signaling that it is ready to eat some prey or make a mess in a corner of a room.

Beastly creatures those Krogans--an example of how the fascist Citadel species were both disingenous and far more racist than even the authoritarian Admiralty Board--whereas the Quarians were sneered at for having accidentally uplifted synthetics; the Citadel played with organics, giving undeserving beasts intelligence, then eradicating them with the Genophage. If only such a disease existed for Geth.

Seeing the Drell enter, Lini'Leera sits up straighter and puts her OmniTool-bearing arm down so she can get a measure on his mien. "...Varrens division." When she hears that, her head tilts to the side and she actually throws up a bit in her suit; she manages to tilt her mouth to the refuse tube just in time and her waste reclamation system sucks the liquid out to process it. Her suit begins to hum lightly as it processes. Not only was the 'squad'...not yet HER squad, but THE squad... numbered an unlucky digit, but it also bore the name of a loathsome beast.

Even the fool disloyal Krogan guffawed at the term--these people were not only so desperate for good help that they turned to blackmail; they were likely bankrupt as well and looking to get her work for free or to send her and these others on a suicide mission.

On seeing the briefcase set in front of her; Lini'Leera reaches out to pop it open. With luck, it contains something that justifies her remaining in this worthless place.[/ic]

*edited to change 'ventilation' to 'waste reclamation'-- thank you Steerpike.

[Ninja D!]

[ic=Waiting]Salana sits silently and reclines in her turian-fit chair as well as she is able to, gun across her lap. She's careful to not allow the barrel to point directly at anyone in the room, though she seems to otherwise pay no attention to them at all. Her eyes drift, finally settling on one corner of the room where a single fluorescent light seems to be nearing the end of its life. It flickers no more than once every 30 seconds but, aside from the uncomfortable new recruits, it is the only thing in the room that isn't entirely static.[/ic][ooc=T'Parn Veteran]Salana T'Sara is not a new recruit, as the others are. She is, in fact, nearing her 16 year anniversary with the company, though she was at first only an independent contractor. In the very beginning, she was contracted simply as a security guard for some special cargo of moderate to high importance and value. From there, she quickly proved that she could be trusted so long as she continued to get paid and was entertained. Since violence is one of her favorite forms of entertainment, both things were easy for the company to provide. Most of her tenure has been spent doing short-term odd jobs, usually involving security or enforcement of some kind. Often these assignments were solo as those usually ended better for the company. She hasn't been with the Varrens that entire time, though she has been assigned to a couple of other squads before this. She's done one mission with each previously and been reassigned immediately after with the official reason being that she 'was not a good fit for the team.'[/ooc][ic=The Meeting Begins]Being the only T'Parn veteran in the room, Salana is the only one to not even flinch when the krogan comes charging in. She even lets a little smile of amusement cross her weathered and battle scared face. Clearly, she had dealt with Ranon and this very sort of behavior before.

Sal watches closely as the asari fumbles with the briefcases, grinning as she approaches. Sal, being closest to the door the new people entered through, receives he package first. She gives the young assistant a firm slap and the backside as a briefcase is set before the warrior, causing her to start slightly and struggle all the more with her oversized load.

Now that something is actually happening, Salana leans forward. She puts her elbows on her lands and rests her chin a upon her hands, which are folded together in a ball. When the assistant as for questions, Salana only waves her hand dismissively, maintaining her silence.[/ic]

[Steerpike]

[ic=The Flame's Keep]When Dikos starts speaking Archimedes stops playing his game and puts away his Rubik's Cube.  The meeting is a strange mixture of quasi-clandestine cloak-and-dagger  secrecy and ostentatious displays of power: typical of post-T'Soki-takeover T'Parn dealings.  As the briefcases are passed around he opens his while continuing his discrete observation of his squad-mates.

He hears what he thinks is the quarian's enviro-suit begin its waste reclamation cycle, watches the woman twitch and gurgle slightly when the squad's name is announced.  Somehow she keeps managing to top herself in sheer crassness.  The asari's stance '" and the fact that she didn't bat an eyelid when the solid ton of metal and flesh waddled into the room '" broadcasts her familiarity with all concerned; the lewd pat she administered to Nani's backside demonstrated not only clear gynephila but a certain casual intimacy with company personnel.  What species was her father, I wonder?  Usually I can tell with asari.  No doubt this one thinks of herself almost as a male, despite those child-bearing hips and mammary glands.  Someone should tell her about the whiptail lizards of earth.  I wonder if early proto-asari could reproduce non parthenogenetically with the few vestigial males... I must look that up.  The human, grinning ingratiatingly, seems to be the only one trying to endear himself to the group.  Compared to the puking quarian and the rather loutish asari it isn't hard to seem a gentleman.  Still, a high degree of EI, that one.[/ic]

[CoyoteCamouflage]

[ic=Measure for Measure]
The Krogan is mildly amusing to Kai-- in a "Oh, look how hard he's trying!" sort of way. While Kai is keenly aware of the combat potential of the Krogan, he also finds them lacking in creativity. Sure, the more crazy ones might not even need a reason to blow your head off, but they also lack the human ingenuity for applying pain and suffering, a quality very clearly breed into certain Alliance training instructors. Being Keelhauled seems much worse a fate. Never mind half of the devices and methods from Human history. Drawing and quartering, necklacing, or the Sicilian Bull are the first examples to spring to mind. Compared to them, the quick, messy end of a Krogan is much, much more preferable.

Piss off the Krogan, and you will die messily and quickly. Piss off the wrong human, and you die messily over a much longer period of time.

Their superior's entrance is much more theatrical than Kai expected it to be, and it once more made him wonder just how likely they were to survive whatever they were about to be ordered to do.

The Asari's... familiarity with the assistant actually serves to put Kai at ease-- to him, it's a sign that this Asari has been around for awhile, and lived long enough to have some merit either as a useful tool, or simply being good enough to stay alive. Both potentials were very, very useful to his continued well-being and his success in the private sector.

The Quarian's disgust, as it is happening within her suit, goes well and surely beyond Kai's notice, though the Vorcha's sudden shift of attention gains notice, though what to make of it, Kai is unsure. It is tough to tell, as most of Kai's knowledge of Behavioral Sciences applies to humans, but at least the Asari and the Vorcha seem somewhat professional. To his mind, the Quarian seems childish with her behavior so far.

When the half-scared Asari comes to drop off the briefcase, he smiles pleasantly. "Calm down, Nani. We don't bite--" he quickly glances at the others present. "Ah, well, at least two of us don't bite. Probably." He looks pointedly at the Quarian. Then back to Nani. "You know what, never mind. You're probably smart enough to be nervous of us, I bet. Smarter than me, at least." He shrugs unconcernedly and reaches to pop open the briefcase to peruse its contents.

When Nani reaches the front of the room, looking still as wary, he at least volunteers something useful. "I'm sure we have everything we need to know here," he indicates the brefcase as he begins to sack its contents. "But why don't you go ahead and give us a brief outline to start with." He tries to be polite with his request, wondering just why this timid, scared-looking Asari is handling their briefing. It seems rather unorthodox. He would have used the Krogan, personally.

He laughs to himself briefly. Civilian Sector-- doing everything back-asswards as always.[/ic]

[Elemental_Elf]

[ic]Nani, encouraged and perhaps even emboldened by the Human's kind words, straightens her back slightly and begins, 'Inside each of the briefcases, you will find a cred chip containing a 500 credit advance, a data chip containing pertinent information concerning the mission, a bottle of Losega Wine, which is safe for dextro-protein races to drink,' she pauses slightly to take a quick glance at the Quarian then continues,  'and a hand written note containing the locations of three additional meeting locations '" the Hanar Hall, Starlight and Shizukesa.' She stops for a moment and looks nervously back at the CEO, who is still fumbling with the Holo-Screen, cursing under his breath.  

The Krogan grunts 'Did you say the Hanar Hall? Ha! Do you honestly believe these primitive troglodytes are ready for the Hall? They'll muck up the pla'¦' the Krogan is interrupted by a whirling chirp emanating from the Holo-Screen and the disgruntled cursing of a frustrated Drell.

'Well,' Nani begins, 'these were the orders given to me by President Vod Ge'¦' she too is interrupted by the Holo-Screen that is once again producing strange noises.

'HA! HA! HA! Von Geld wouldn't know sophistication if it slapped his good-for-nothing pampered as'¦' the Holo-Screen yet again emits a loud buzzing noise.

'Damn it all to the void. Nani, get over here and fix this screen. I think'¦' says the Drell as he hastens the Asari over. The two briefly converse in whispers, until Dikos brushes off his suit and waddles over to the center of the room.

 'It appears we are having some technical difficulties. Not surprising given the unique location of this room. I will, as the humans say, cut to the chase. There's a Volus named Chesla Don. He sought to re-develop portions of the planet Talis Fia. Mr. Don borrowed a quarter of a million credits from Merosyndar Banking Corp. (which as you will remember is also owned by the parent company of T'Parn). His plan failed, and miserably at that. We now believe he wants to,' the Drell grits his teeth slightly, 'declare BANKRUPTCY! This wouldn't be much of an issue if not for the fact that we believe he embezzled most of money. Our informants tell us that he is using the money to create small fleet of pirate ships!' the Drell throws his hands up in the air as if in disbelief at the situation.  'If this gets out, it will bring much scrutiny down upon the Bank, and the corporation as a whole, scrutiny that is not desired in the least. Your job, my dearest squad 7, is to find Chesla Don and either force him to return the quarter million dollar loan (with interest) or,' the Drell's face betrays a slight smile. 'find some other means of eliminating the problem.'

As Dikos finishes, the Holo-Screen blinks off. The Asari walks up to the center of the room, 'the last known location of Don was here on Illium at the Refreshing Spice Club over on the south-east side of Nos Astra. We also know he has an Asari friend in the port authority named Lawa T'Kin - a friend who could easily and discreetly shuttle him off world. The Data Chip provided to you contains all of the information given to you here at this meeting, directions to the Club as well as to T'Kin's residence and office. If you need any additional information send me a message on the T'Parn Network and I will do my best to help you.' As the Asari finishes, she winks at the Human member of squad 7, then lets out an audible sigh of relief.

With that the Drell and the Asari exit the Flame's Keep. The Krogan lingers for a few seconds, glaring at each of you in turn, especially the Vorcha. Then he too slowly meanders out of the room, leaving the four of you alone.  

[/ic][note= I rolled perception checks for each of you][ooc=the whispered conversation][spoiler=For Salana, Archimedes and Lini'Leera]Though you couldn't make out everything that was whispered between the Drell and the Asari, you did make out a few key words/phrases "Nol infiltrated", "causing minor difficulties" and "stole some files". [/spoiler][/ooc][/note]

[Steerpike]

[ic]After the drell, asari, and krogan have departed, Archimedes gets to his feet.

"As our employer failed to introduce us to one another, the task would appear to fall on our shoulders.  I am called Archimedes.  To address the obvious: yes I am a vorcha, and yes, I have more than two neurons to rub together.  Suffice to say I had an unorthodox education - one that rendered me certain advantages not usually provided to my ilk."[/ic]

[CoyoteCamouflage]

[ic]
Kai listens closely to the details. It seems that a mission with such potential ways of resolution is uniquely suited to a team of operatives with what are clearly diverse specialties. At a glance, the problem seems easy to solve-- at the very least, the Volus needs to be ended. At the best, he needs to be ended after the money is retrieved from his assets. Kai will need time to dig through the data presented to him in order to begin to work on a plan-- at least one that caters to his specialty.

He does work hard to keep from laughing at the Drell's obvious difficulty with the holo=projector, used to such sights with some of the older officers in the Systems Alliance as well. He had heard that Fifth Fleet's Admiral Hackett refused to use anything but audio communications-- probably because he was too old and surly to deal with any of the more modern technologies.

His smile widens slightly at the brief attention from Nani, but he otherwise makes little show of returning any impressions of his own. He begins to busy himself with the contents of the briefcase-- he begins to lift a critical eye to to the wine present, trying to decide if it is worth his time, or better as a friendly gift.

Much to his surprise, the Vorcha is the first of the motley assortment to stand and introduce himself. Archimedes. Something told Kai that the name was not an accident-- and he seriously doubted that most Vorcha had a penchant for Classical Greek myth. Not that Kai knew what a Vorcha actually would call itself. Archimedes seemed as likely as anything else in that light.

Once the Vorcha is done, he takes his turn to stand, placing the bottle of wine back in the case as he does so. "Kai Rijinder," he says stiffly, obviously trying to debate if he should salute or bow. He decides on neither. "Formerly of the Alliance Systems Navy. Now, I am simply whomever I need to be, when it suits me."

He sits. He resumes feigning interest in the bottle of wine.[/ic]

[LD]

[ooc]>>To his mind, the Quarian seems childish with her behavior so far.

He has a pretty good read on that. It comes with the territory of being young, isolated, and an agit-prop anarchist. Also, she has a really hard time getting over racial conditioning; she feels awkward when she isn't with the Flotilla, but she doesn't want to be with the Flotilla. I guess she's like an Amish rebel or a Hassidic Jew who is pitching a hissy fit and leaving the Temple...who dislikes outsiders, is very indoctrinated in her own culture (and proud of it), and who doesn't have anyone to support her decision to leave except herself (no mentor).[/ooc]

[ic=Just Her Imagination]

500 credits... more money than Lini'Leera had ever legitimately earned, but a pittance compared to the full rewards promised for this job. At least the present award appeared realistic, which made her feel better about the endeavour. She wondered what she would do with the money...perhaps she could upgrade her OmniTool to the new VI or VII Models from the Serrice Council Consortium http://masseffect.wikia.com/wiki/Serrice_Council.

But then there was a bottle of Losega wine. Lini picked up the blue cube and turned it around while the Asari spoke. High class wine; low class move. Once again these people were insensitive to Quarian culture. One did not begin a journey with intoxication unless one wanted to crash one's vessel. Lini would have thought these people were attempting to be offensive if she had not constantly suffered foolish racio-centrism everywhere she went. She placed the unlucky wine back in the briefcase. Drinking was for after a job; never during, never at the outset.

Lini'Leera watches the vorcha open and shut its mouth and vocalize rather clearly and she looks in its direction, then she looks back to the human, whose mouth is shut. No ventriloquism there. But the vorcha could be an AI, or there could be a digital voice modulator. Someone was playing a joke on her, probably in revenge for her hacking the T'Parn systems. This was not 'her' Archimedes.She cocks her head and studies the vorcha for a moment more; while she studies him, the human speaks; then Lini swivels her chair and addresses the non-vorchas in the room, cognizant that bugs are probably arranged throughout the room and the real Archimedes is likely listening.

"T'Parn should just hack this Volus on the net and steal the money back. But it sounds like everything has already been spent on those "pirate" ships. (Lini'Leera rolled her head in the traditional Quarian method of expressing bemused distrust). Perhaps we could hack the banks instead; but then I wonder why T'Parn needs anyone other than me... unless the data is on internal networks we need to actually raid or some other boshtet **** like that. These employers...our employers appear to prefer to wring credits out of the Volus' husk, like blood from water; which makes me wonder why they went to such excruciating efforts to track me down if they would rather resort to brute force.

"The orientation sucked, so I am going to read this data chip and then perhaps we can have a productive discussion. Asari (nods toward Salana), Kai Rjinder vas Human (nods toward Rjinder), other (nods toward the vorcha); enjoy your liqueur; If you need to address me- call me Lini'Leera; right now though, I am getting to work."

She vacates the krogan chair and heads for a more comfortable Quarian-made one, then turns it around and pushes it into a corner before she sits in it, then she places the data unit in her secondary OmniTool. As she moves the chair, she rubs a hand against her backside where the krogan balls had indented small round circles in her back.
[/ic]

[ooc]Okay, I think this is edited in its final condition... I seem to post something, then I take about 40 minutes to get it in a final readable state-as a fair warning to other players-I'll probably be editing a few times right after I post. This time I added 2 paragraphs and improved diction and flow. I am one of those authors who ends up rewriting my novels 3-6 times before they end up in a finished state :o[/ooc]

[Ninja D!]

[ic=During the Briefing]After Nani speaks, Salana waits almost a minute in silence. When no one else speaks up, she does. 'Girly, you look so damned adorable giving these briefings, it's distracting.' She pops open her briefcase and removes the bottle of wine followed by the data chip. 'You're sure this chip has all relevant intel? You and scales over there sometimes skimp.' She nods her head in the direction of the drell and removes the cork from the wine bottle with her hand. 'If anything is missing, I'll be knockin' on your door,' she turns the bottle up and takes a drink straight from it, 'this time for business.' Though the others wouldn't know it, Sal is referring to her habit of showing up at Nani's apartment drunk on the nights she gets kicked out of the bar before finding someone to take home with her.

Sal takes another drink straight from the bottle and shakes her head. 'This stuffs not bad.'[/ic][ooc=Data chip?]Do we get a summary of the data on the chip?[/ooc][ic=Introductions]Sal listens to the others speak. In response to the quarian, she says, 'this ain't all about money. T'Parn has plenty of money. This is how they do business. When someone tries to rip off a T'Parn subsidiary, they get made an example of.' She takes another drink of wine, 'my being here says that they expect bullets to fly and blood to spill. Really, my being here says they want that to happen.' She takes another long drink.[/ic]