Chapter 1, Part 3: Krenshawz

If you want to start at the beginning....

Rules for this referee-less, play by post game.

Chapter 1

Part 3

Krenshawz

The Count took a step forward with a grin. "Hmmm. I like these Krenshawz already. Putting a female to take care of all the administrative functions is a wise move. I would be interested to hear what Lero thinks about it. Male humans rarely react positively to strong female figures."

"This is Count Hertwig aboard the INS Deimos, ambassador for our Imperial Majesty Strephon Aella Alkhalikoi. We are on a diplomatic mission and we come in peace. It is a pleasure to speak with you President Morrissy. We would be honored to meet personally with someone of your stature, and discuss how can the Imperium and the great Republic of Krenshawz can work together for our mutual benefit. Does this request seem reasonable to you as representative of the Krenshawz people?"

Hertwig signaled the XO to mute the communication briefly. The Count was starting to gain respect for him. Although he looked a bit unexperienced, he seemed to enjoy being thorough in all of his searches.

"XO. Please do a search on President Myrle Morrissy and get me as much information as you can. If you can find what she eats for breakfast, I want to know it."

President Morrissy says, “We would be delighted to welcome representatives of the Imperium. The last concord we had expired last year, and we would be interested in renewing it. I also understand you are waiting in line for docking to the high port. I recommend instead you send your delegation down via a shuttle or whatever craft you have available. The Deimos can resupply via boat until the station is free.” Lero checked that the mic was off. He looks at the Count.

Lero checked that the mic was off. He looks at the Count. “Seems reasonable to me.” The Deimos has a shuttle that he had ensured was outfitted for diplomacy and spying. The shuttle has powerful sensors and listening electronics available via its innocuous antenna array.

“Lets go down but keep everyone on high alert. I am still not sure what we can find down there. XO, any other piece of info we should know before going down there?”

Lero stands up and the XO and officers stand just after he does. He says, "President Morrissy, this is Commander Callum Lero, captain of the INS Deimos. We kindly accept the offer of taking a shuttle directly to you. Please provide the coordinates and we'll be there. Is there a time window we should strive for?"

Morrissy says, "If you can arrive in two hours, we'll be suitably prepared to greet our gracious representatives from our neighbor."

"We'll see you in two hours. Deimos out." Lero pulls down on the cuff of his jacket, straightening out the mid creases from sitting. "Lieutenant Gregory, you'll be accompanying us, along with a six team marine unit. Have them dressed in light combat armor, armed with laser rifles and gauss pistols--but holstered and secured. And make sure they have plenty of spit-and-shine."

Gregory nodded and says, "Aye sir. They'll look like they're ready for parade."

"Better," says Lero, but with a hint of fun laced into the response.

"Of course, sir," says Gregory.

"XO, when you have the details the Count's asked for, send them to our tablets. You, Gregory, and myself, let's be dressed in our black dress uniforms. However, keep the ribbons and medals at formal levels. We're not seeing the Emperor here. Meet at the shuttle bay in an hour." Lero looks at his watch. Plenty of time. "Dismissed."

Lero goes to his quarters, which in a normal vessel would have been the XO’s, but he sacrificed for the Count. Not that he thinks he sacrificed—really. Giving the captain’s quarters to the Count made sense. Lero had always kept his living quarters sparsely decorated. Moving from ship to ship over her career had ensure he kept possessions to a minimum to avoid any unnecessary packing and moving. The digital photo frame flips through 3D pictures of his parents, his time in the academy, and his grandfather. Pops. The weight of the service pistol on Lero’s hips reminds him of his grandfather, who gave him the weapon. Lero breathes in deeply and lets out a slow exhale. He changes to his dress uniform, holds the gauss pistol carefully, studies its worn grip. He slides it into his holster. He stops at the door and says, “Lights out.” The room goes dark. He steps out into the corridor, the door closes behind him. He heads to the shuttle bay to await the arrival of the Count, the XO, Force Commander Gregory, and the complement of Imperial Marines.

Zernov's quarters were comfortable with everything just where they made sense to him before getting downgraded for the Count. digging through his footlocker he finally found them. With a little cheer just for himself "Gotcha!" the XO, advanced in his age, extracts matching shoe inserts with deep yet firm cushion. "These high-G planets are going to be the death of me. At least the burial would be quicker." It had taken him an embarrassing amount of time to find them, wedged under an some old memorabilia from his favorite show as a younger man "Reece and Hiver, Imperial Detectives!". He'd placed them there to keep the signed physical replica safe, Reece's parrying sword, with compartment for hiver larva was still much more valuable than some shoe inserts. Until this moment, with the above average planet looming over his joints. Glancing at his pad, reports were still filtering in but looks like the picture was pretty clear. 12 minutes till he needed to be in the launch bay, he wont have time to review before seeing the Commander and Ambassador but they'll likely want to deep dive the reports themselves, he told himself. 

Glancing at his pad, reports were still filtering in but looks like the picture was pretty clear. 12 minutes till he needed to be in the launch bay, he wont have time to review before seeing the Commander and Ambassador but they'll likely want to deep dive the reports themselves, he told himself.

Roll 2d6 + 3 for an easy challenge (+4)
/r 2d6+7
2d6+7 = (6+1)+7 = 14

While in the lift down to the launch bay Zernov glances the reports to make sure they cover what's required. Chuckling at the image of President Morrissy chowing down on a breakfast burrito. Noting the ingredients half out of her mouth and in the burrito: onions, kale, mushrooms, and a leaf he doesn't recognize, salsa on top... He circles it, pointlessly the image has no other competing information, and writes, 'looks like she's vegan' in the margin before sending it on to the Ambassador and Commander.

There appears to be a faction of bureaucrats that are rallied behind the President. She's ineffectual but by the book, and champions cleaning up their maze of red tape. Looks like the political structure here makes it tough to do that, much easier to add a layer or a specific by-pass than it is to remove anything or replace anything with a simpler system.

Lero enters the bay. He inspects the various storage areas, ensuring everything is orderly and buttoned down. The crew stood at attention, and after he completed the brief review, he walked along their line, shaking theirs hands and commending them on the state of the bay. He recognizes many of the names from perusing the crew lists. I’m leading them, and I don’t remember all their names. But he never had proven capable of such feats. Crew shifted in and out too fast for him. He, instead, led by trusting his officers. He glances around at the hangar, taking in the size. Several ship’s boats were being readied for transferring supplies and fuel from the high port to the Deimos. Lero clasps his hands behind his back and nods approval, if only to himself. He walks up the short ramp into the shuttle, greeting the pilot and co-pilot already in their seats.

"No wonder they can't sustain themselves," Zernov mutters to himself, arriving in the shuttle bay as Commander Lero is addressing the crew.

Zernov makes directly for the shuttle, making space in the front for himself, Lero, and Hertwig to confer. With Hertwig's aid and Zernov taking the rear most seats they can have some privacy from the rest of the ship if they speak in quiet tones. Not that he's worried about op-sec but it helps to give command the space it needs to speak freely before addressing the crew.

Lero says, "Lieutenant Simpson, you have the ship. Mind her well."

Simpson's voice pipes through the speakers of the shuttle. "Aye, sir."

As the shuttle door closes and seals, the passengers hear the klaxons and see the yellow lights of the hangar flash, warning that decompression will start imminently. The crew in the hangar not in vacc suits hurry away, one picking up a loose wrench on the deck before disappearing behind an airtight door. The lights turn a flashing red as the atmosphere in the hangar is pulled out. After about a minute, the lights turn a solid red, and the exterior hangar doors begin to slide open. The orientation of the Deimos in orbit positions the hangar doors to open with the northern pole of Krenshawz just visible. The thin blue atmosphere of the planet bright and shimmering above the dark side of the planet. Lero feels the shuttle lift from its landing feet but then feels nothing as it slips into space and begins its descent to the planet below. Night time city lights dot the dark side, which the shuttle slips quickly over onto the day side. Krenshawz is like many habitable planets in its outward appearance. A blue, green, brown marble with white clouds. The pilot begins the descent into the atmosphere.
Lero feels the shuttle lift from its landing feet but then feels nothing as it slips into space and begins its descent to the planet below. Night time city lights dot the dark side, which the shuttle slips quickly over onto the day side. Krenshawz is like many habitable planets in its outward appearance. A blue, green, brown marble with white clouds. The pilot begins the descent into the atmosphere.

As the shuttle nears the planet, Zernov addresses the Marines and other crew aboard. "Marines, you know this is a milk run but also this is not imperial space. we are guests here, and we are starting to build the reputation for this ship, her crew, and the Imperium. Stay sharp, stay safe." Zernov glances over the Marine contingent, they look rested and ready, but a few went to the extra effort to be sharp for the occasion. Glancing at the three who didn't go to that effort, and the most imposing and impressive marine, Brixanna. He'd seen her practicing blades in the armory and knows she has a reputation as a winner among the marines despite an injury to her lungs years ago, and she's an NCO. "Brixanna, take these three along with the pilot and stay with the shuttle. No one enters the ship without escort, feel free to tell them no if you want us involved. The rest of you come with us."

Brixanna does a curt nod, "Aye, sir," she checks over the three she's been assigned. The marines had a different idea of who would stay with the ship, but that's how it goes... XO's making changes without consulting them. No big feast for Brixy, hopefully someone brings some back.

Roll piloting, average
/r 2d6 +2
2d6 +2 = (2+4) +2 = 8

The pilot takes the shuttle down in a smooth and efficient manner, circling a bit above the final coordinates before the feet of the shuttle land. A small jolt. As the shuttle powers down, Lero can feel the small extra tug of gravity above standard. Nothing worrisome, but he feels a bit more heavy. He notes to be aware that things will fall faster and things will not weigh what he would normally expect.
The shuttle door opens, and Lero sees in front of him what the government of Krenshawz has decided to greet the Imperium with.

Roll 2d6 x 10 for color guard and government officials present
/r 2d6 * 10
2d6 * 10 = (3+2) * 10 = 50

Not bad, thinks Lero. He turns and nods at his XO. "Looks like they are serious." He gestures to the Count to be the first to step off the shuttle. "After you, Count Hertwig."

As Lero, Zernov, the Count, and the marines line up to exit the shuttle, a small band begins playing a plaintive, slow anthem on a series of horns and reed instruments. Lero presumes this is the national anthem. He recognizes President Morrissy and Premier Rosa Norman, the real power of the government. She’s tall, a reminder to all that she is a recent transplant to this higher gravity world. She is from deeper in the Foreven sector, from a planet he cannot recall. A former planetary navy and then law enforcement officer, Norman was elected to the premiership on a tough on crime platform, and she is only in her second year.

Next to Norman is Morrissy, and behind them are what Lero presumes to be aides, counselors, and party officials—presuming some sort of party make up. All are dressed in the regimented, formalistic colors their society ascribes to.

roll for reaction, 2d6, -2 because of so many of us are naval
/r 2d6 -2
2d6 -2 = (2+4) -2 = 4

Guarded result. They don’t trust us and will show no favors.

Lero scans their faces and attempts a smile, though he feels it is stilted and forced. Norman and Morrissy are stern faced. Are they trying to show they’re tough?

The band from the music stops playing as the crew from the Deimos approaches within a few meters of the Krenshawz delegation.

(edited)