Background:

The Republican criminal justice system is not the most efficient, by design.  The system was originally designed to rehabilitate, and while it retains that capacity, it is now used to punish.  Because of this there are two kinds of prisons, which would not exist in an efficient system: the labor mine and the penal colony.  In the former robots could more efficiently mine in hazardous environments without the need for supervision.  In the latter, the cost of transport is rarely worth the effort.  In both cases, it would be more efficient to simply execute the prisoners.  But the current rulers of the Republic prefer the terror and hopelessness inspired by these two forms of punishment.

Invictus Prison on the toxic mining world of Noricum Prime is a labor mine.  It also has facilities for rehabilitation and traditional incarceration, and is designed to handle the full range of penal work.  But it is most famous for the mines.  It is also the last stop for prisoners bound for the penal colony on Cygnus Omega.  Noricum Prime is an arcology world.  That is, the population lives in a series of self-contained city/buildings called arcologies, linked together by a network of magnetic levitation train tubes.  Invictus Prison is its own arcology with landing pads for the transfer ships.

Noricum Prime is also the sector capitol of the Noricum Sector, a spherical region roughly 50 parsecs in radius in the Scythia Province, the farthest province to the Galactic North-East of Terra Secundus.  Scythia Province is on the border with the alien Parthian Empire and the Kingdom of Armenia, and Cygnus Omega is in the Cygnus Sector, the farthest system claimed by the Republic in this direction.  In short, Cygnus Omega is as far as you can get from the center of the Republic and still be in the Republic.

Opening Scene: Invictus Prison

A Republican holding cell, Invictus Prison, Noricum Prime.  The cell is 20m by 10m, has 10 padded benches and 20 prisoners.  The walls are tan, the padding on the benches is orange.  The north wall is a force field, on the south wall is a door with no lock or mechanism.  All tof these prisoners have been sentenced to a life term on Cygnus Omega, the Prison Planet.  The transfer ship was heard landing a few minutes ago outside the south door.

Among the prisoners:
• A man of Roman or Achaean descent, fair-skinned, physically fit but not athletic, with short brown hair neatly trimmed, wearing archaic-style eyeglasses.
• An alien with the appearance of a bipedal lizard, scales in shades of green and brown, a tail sticks out through a hole in his jumpsuit.
• A large human with a short mohawk, tattoos evident at his wrists and neckline, a scar on the right side of his face, powerfully built, tanned skin.  Two other men, nearly as large and nasty in attitude, stay close to him.
• There is only one woman in the group: Marcia Valeria.

---

Post an introduction for your character, a physical description, mannerisms, what they are doing, etc.  The first prisoner brought to this room arrived about 5 hours ago, the last about 15 minutes ago.  Depending on how ling you were here you may know each other.  Marcia would have been one of the last, as the only woman in the bunch.  The prisoners are of every ethnic and racial combination on Earth today, all wearing orange prison jumpsuits and velcro-tied white sneakers.

Marcia is a slender woman of smaller than average height. The orange jumpsuit hangs loosely on her, and the blocky rubber shoes give her the air of a poorly dressed doll.  Her tanned skin, black hair, and angular facial features was common among the Patricians and little changed since the Roman Empire was concerned with the conquest of Gaul. She was still well-groomed; her black hair braided and pinned with plastic pins around her head and her hands regularly manicured. She sits silently on the padded bench with a blank expression, her posture as dignified and elegant as a senator on a newscast. But the blankness of her expression suggests that she is just awaiting the completion of her execution.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:05, Fri 31 Dec 2021.

In a prison built in large part to contain and punish the non human under class finding unusual looking aliens is hardly rare.  Almost all of those aliens have a small and even number of arms and legs some combination of smaller finger like extensions from those arms, and a whole complex network of bones designed to make them all work together, and nobody finds that odd.

What is odd is the grey sphere of a sort of semi rigid flesh that has been sitting in the corner for a while, what look something like eyes or nexus of some kind that look out on the vertebrates watching them walk around on feet in a very small range of movement styles, almost as if it is studying them.

The prisoner looks around his cell, clearly assessing the chance to escape. Although he's the same average height of other Humans, his stocky build and light blue skin color mark his as... different. He also mentally evaluates the other prisoners to try and decide which ones might be allies and which ones might just be useless.

Most of the other prisoners don't look particularly friendly, so he slowly moves over to the woman.

"Greetings," he says to her. "My name is Rurik. You have the look of someone who is expecting to die soon. Do you truly believe that is your future?"
This message was last edited by the player at 04:01, Tue 04 Jan 2022.

Marcia turned towards Rurik slowly, watching him with a calm, tranquil expression. It seems artistically designed to be difficult to read -- thanks to her army of tutors. Rurik's question only merited the slightest tilt of her head, and the unhurried comment, "It is, of course, everyone's future. Charon's ferry is the only ship carrying prisoners away."

She might as well be commenting on the weather.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:38, Tue 04 Jan 2022.

"Charon's Ferry? What is that? A ship?" Rurik replied. "Is it going to take us somewhere?"

He was still confused about what had happened and how he'd wound up here. He wasn't even sure where 'here' was. He was an explorer. The last thing he remembered was... he wasn't even sure about that. It was all kind of blurry in his mind.

Marcia blinks twice very quickly, and she pauses to gauge whether Rurik is being purposefully obtuse. "No." She hesitates, giving him a second look."It means that death is the only way to leave this place."

"Sorry, Miss, I'm not that fatalistic," Rurik replies. "I may not fully understand what's going on or know how I got here, but, while Death comes for us all in the end, I plan on avoiding it as long as I can."

"Do you know who any of these other... prisoners are?"

The lizard alien approaches Argot sitting in his corner.  Crouching down before it he addresses the dralasite.  "You and I, it would seem, are sufficiently different from the others to perhaps find common ground?  Do you speak the human tongues?"  he asks.  His voice is soft and it is clear his mouth and vocal structure allows for all the usual human sounds and perhaps more without accent.

---

Awareness - Intuition or Perception rolls please.

Adjusting its shape as much as rolling backwards to orient the two eye regions upward to look at the lizard the gray mound of flesh also opens what must be a mouth of some kind to speak in a reasonable approximation of the aforementioned human language.
”I do indeed speak the language of those who have transported us here.  Do you wish anything other than conversation from our so called common?”
This message was last edited by the player at 03:01, Sat 08 Jan 2022.

Marcia isn't sure if he's playing dumb or actually dumb. So she gives him the diplomatically opaque answer, "I am sure that mere mathematics cannot easily burden you, with your prodigious strengths."  She pauses to listen to the eloquent lizard person. His accent merits a slight, elegant lift of her eyebrow. She responds unhurriedly, "I do not know anyone here. At least not yet.  But quite a few of us seem to possess a certain eloquence. I would not be surprised if our cohort is well seasoned with those who have political enemies or have seen something inconvenient to the powerful and corrupt."

She pauses, and gives him an appraising look before advising.  "If you truly do not know why you are here, consider whether you have seen something unusual or gained an enemy-- most likely within the past few months."
This message was last edited by the player at 21:19, Sat 08 Jan 2022.

"I do not have any enemies that I know of, though I suppose whoever is responsible for me being here is probably an enemy," Rurik replies.

"In the same vein, while I may have seen something that I was not supposed to see, I am not aware of any such observation. How would I know if I did see such an occurrence?"

"So, why are you here, if you don't mind my asking?"

She notices her slight attention to the lizard-human, glances in that direction, and notices for the first time that the blob in the corner is actually another prisoner. He'd heard of a Dra'al but thought they were fictional creatures.

"So that's what a Dra'al looks like."

Marcia ignores his question, dismissing it with a decisive flick of her hand. Even Marcia, who has little tutoring in the dubious etiquette of criminals, knows that one does not ask casual acquaintance about money or legal entanglements. "Perhaps you should try thinking about the events that lead you to your predicament." There was a touch of exasperation in her voice. "Silently, perhaps over there.." Marcia suggested as she gestured to a bench on the other side of the room.

"There is safety in numbers, and though we are only two, two can stand against many if they are of like mind," he says,  Awkwardly, as though the gesture is alien to him, he extends a hand as though to shake.  "I am called 'Stego'," he says as he waits.

There is some snickering from the brutish trio with the mohawks at Marcia's words.  The man out of place stands, dusts off his jump suit and approaches Marcia and Rurik.  "Perhaps, Rurik, you resisted the assimilation of your people, whether forcefully or otherwise?" he asks, his pronunciation precise as though a stickler for grammar.  "I do not mean to intrude, but you seem a lady of grace and culture, most definitely out of place here," he adds addressing Marcia.

Argot and Marcia are aware of a commotion in the hall, a guard is approaching and he seems to be dragging a young person along.

"The Roman courts can be inconsistent and parsimonious critics." Marcia comments dryly. It is odd to find conversational rescue from a punk, and possible murderer, but Marcia finds herself relieved. And, despite herself,she was intrigued. "My culture and grace appears to have served me as well as Socrates' wisdom served him." For all her refined accent and gracious appearance, Marcia showed no signs of being intimidated by her surroundings or company. She is listening to the mohawked individual and there is a sense of attention, a weight to her regard, despite her relaxed posture.

After a moment, she adds for Rurik's benefit, "Socrates was executed for being wise. It happened a long time ago, and everyone -- except Socrates -- was sorry afterwards."

OOC: That is correct. Interaction = fail, perception = success
This message was last edited by the player at 22:26, Tue 11 Jan 2022.

Rolling back the blob like creature frees up a long thin tentacle like appendage that had been coiled under it to reach up and engage in what could loosely be considered a handshake.
”I am Argot, Numbers are a reasonable beginning, but if you can not trust what the other hand is doing sometimes it is better to have only the one.”

The man extends his hand in greeting to Marcia and then Rurik.  "Albius Wilkinson, at your service," he introduces himself.  Before they can reply a guard approaches the force door dragging a very dirty, young human who is futilely resisting and being half-dragged along the hall.  From the size and voice they are either a young boy or teenage girl.

"No really, I'll be good, honest, it won't happen again, you know I just wanted to get some fresh air," they say in growing panic as he pushed them through the force door. They are wearing a prison jumpsuit but it is filthy and their skin is grimy, their hair dirty and poorly cut into a short tangle.  The guard left without so much as a word, though he could be heard whistling as he departed.

The new prisoner turned to face the others and a semblance of feminine curves suggested a young woman burgeoning into adulthood.  She smiled weakly and folded her hands before her, leaning against the wall by the forcefield.
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:48, Wed 19 Jan 2022.

"From where I come, everyone here is 'out of place'," he responds to the man who just approached.

"Resist assimilation? By what? And since it didn't happen while I was there, I don't know anything about it. So, why would I be here? And shouldn't a few million more of 'my people' be here as well, if that's the case?"

"In any case, perhaps you'd be kind enough to tell me just where 'here' is and what the significance of that is?"

Marcia leaned forward graciously to accept the introduction, but froze to watch the little drama unfolding. With the languid interest of a lioness too replete for a chase, she casually watches the young woman interact with the guards. Marcia might as well be watching passers-by from a street-side cafe as a possible execution. She smiles slightly at the young woman's posturing, as though she was a child who fell into a fountain and is now acting as though they planned on the swim. "Marcia Valeria," she introduces herself to Albius with aplomb that usually accompanies a bestowed laurel, "I regret the circumstances aren't more fortuitous."

She glances at Rurik, and then back at Albius. The glance to Albius and lift of an eye brow has a strong flavor of 'he must be joking, right?'

She sighs, and murmurs for Marcus Aurelius to give her patience. "This is the prison planet Invictus. Only those who are convicted of grave or very politically inconvenient crimes against the empire are imprisoned here."  She says this slowly and deliberately to Rurik, as though giving time for each word to register. Hardly any flinch for the sharp pain those words send through her heart. And yet, she still seems to sound as eloquent as a broadcast from the senate floor. "Given the.." she purses her lips, and takes a moment to choose a less challenging word for the marble-headed Rurik, "long-windedness of Roman courts, it is very puzzling for you to claim so much ignorance. You must be your own accuser, in this, to decipher what crime might be laid at your feet."
This message was last edited by the player at 17:47, Mon 17 Jan 2022.

Stego does not seem to get the joke, but takes Argot's proffered hand and shakes in a human fashion.  When the young woman is thrown he looks at her with reptilian eyes that are expressionless to most humans, a tense anticipation in his posture belies otherwise as he waits for something more to happen.

Albius' previous casualness also fades as he watches her thrown in, and his eyes dart towards the less savory elements in the room before returning his attention to Rurik and Marcia.  "I for one am guilty of my crime," he says, but he is distracted as he keeps an eye on the newcomer.

"Thank you for the explanation and details, Ms. Valeria," Rurik responds. "At least now I know what I DON'T know."

"The last thing I remember is serving on a trading ship and putting into port on... somewhere... why can't I remember that?"

"The next thing I remember is waking up... here."

"Does this empire have the ability to erase memories from people? If so, it seems a more expedient course of action than going through the courts and having to deal with prisoners. And why would they bother doing it to me if they were just going to make me a prisoner in the first place?"

"I would also suggest that you don't rush to judgment about a person until you know all the facts. I can't help you in that department because, clearly, I don't have all the facts either."

"So, if we've cleared the air, can we now consider how to get out of here?"

"Not 'empire' good sir," Albius said without a hint of sarcasm.  "We are a 'Republic' with elected representatives to govern," he added.  The girl meanwhile started edging away from the force-door entrance and Albius at this point motions for her to join him.  She scurried over and sat on the bench next to Marcia.  It is apparent she has not bathed in some time, though the smell of sweat and grime is not overpowering.  She smiles weakly again, looking at the other three.

His attention drawn to the more interesting arrival of the new one to their already somewhat eclectic mix Argot just lets the limb being shaken fall back down to the ground and rest there as he rolls around a bit to get a better view of the entrance.

Marcia waves a hand in a sharp motion of dismissal. "I have answered your tiresome questions. Your lost memory and political problems are your own affairs. I am entirely disinterested in your braying understanding; trouble someone else with your cupidity."

She leans slightly towards Albius and the girl, she whispers confidingly.

OOC: Was not sure if Rurik would need some kind of roll to overhear, or if he is too far away.

The young lady's eyes grow wide with a mix of emotions: humor, fear, respect chief among them.  Albius merely covers his mouth discreetly, clearly practiced in social repartee.

Stego crouches down to rest close to Argot, keeping his eyes on the conversation though at this distance it's unlikely he can hear it.

An alarm sounds behind the solid pressure door then and the border of the door begins flashing yellow.  Most of the prisoners look to the door with apprehension.

---

OOC: Rurik can roll Awareness-Perception to overhear.

Surprise and apprehension flashes across Marcia Valeria's face, and then hardens into a cool resolve. Wouldn't this make an excellent play.. whispers traitorously in her thoughts.

She stands gracefully, and strides across the room. "Fortuna, if you extend your hand, I am ready to grasp it -- and opportunity. "  She murmurs, gingerly trying to pass her hand through the door.  After all, what has she to lose?...besides, maybe her hand.

As the woman walks away, Rurik mutters to himself, "I wonder who shoved a stick up HER backside."

At that point, he's not particularly interested in her any more, considering her next to useless... a so-called stuck-up aristocrat. While he's not trying to overhear what she says, it's not like he can close his ears.

12:22, Today: Rurik Vel rolled 16 using 1d20 ((16)). Perception-10 check. Nope. Not a chance... unless the acoustics in here are extraordinary.

The sphere that is clearly no longer a perfect sphere rises up on two tendril like limbs that end in broad flat disks and walks over to the door that seems to be the focus of everyone's attention.  Stopping against the wall about five meters from it to observe more closely.

After a minute the light around the door shifts to green and the door opens to reveal a corridor with an open door on the other end.  The prisoners immediately by the door start to enter, some with a shrug, some defiantly.  Meanwhile, the force wall starts to move in shrinking the room by inches, clearly suggesting everyone move into the corridor.  "This is it, the transport has arrived," Stego says standing and moving towards the door.  He pauses by Argot.  "Come, getting pressed into the wall by the force field is certain death; this way, there is still hope."

The girl looks at Marcia and Albius with sudden dread.  "I'm... I'm not supposed to be here," she says in a low voice, almost unable to speak.  "I was in juvenile detention and escaped.  The guard; he just tossed me in here," she says looking at the inexorably advancing force field.

Marcia sighs sadly as she looks back towards the girl. "Unfortunately, the crime of being smarter than the guards is as harsh as it is easy to commit.  If there is an opportunity to reason with the guards, I will try to get you out. Until then, come with me and Albius -- you can't stay here and wait for mercy."   Marcia steps through the force-field

OOC: rolled an 11 on charm, and Marcia's charm skill =12 :)
This message was last edited by the player at 00:27, Wed 02 Feb 2022.

The girl follows Marcia through the door and Albius steps up behind her.  The other prisoners are marching through as well.  The corridor is a jet-way style connector to a starship sitting on a landing pad.  It is armored and shielded against the toxic atmosphere outside, but it has thick windows allowing the prisoners to see the ship and also to confirm that breaching the tunnel in any way would mean letting the poison air in the kill them all.

The ship is a corvette class transport, appears to be unarmed, and by the look of it has three deck.  The tunnel connects into the central deck.  At the end of the tunnel is an airlock with both doors open.  The inner door leads into a small chamber that has two other doors: one open and one sealed and marked as such.  The prisoners are filing into the open door.  That one leads to a chamber full of acceleration chairs that can recline nearly flat, laid out in rows like a short-range passenger ship.  There are marked latrines and a food dispenser in the room.

"Go on," she nudges the girl softly, "if there is a sink back there, wash up quick -- and get a snack. I'll keep an eye out while the others are loading up." True to her word, Marcia hangs near the back where she can give the girl a bit of privacy.

Shuffling along with the others on two legs the now slightly smaller sphere  with the two black eyes and big mouth doesn't so much hang back as just go with the flow from a place that was already near the end of the clump of people fleeing ahead of the moving shield.

Patiently waiting for the people ahead to find seats they like the sphere easily maneuvers through the tighter spaces on three equally distant limbs, finds a pair of seats against the outer hull not yet taken, and settles into the isle seat of the pair in a motion that can't really be described as sitting, although it achieves nearly the same result except for all three limbs being now upward facing in a way that is probably a little bit nauseating for any creature with bones, let alone knees.

Argot can see that there is a humanoid with blue skin, similar to Rurik but female and with metallic components, curled up in a seat near the front.  She is not readily visible from the entrance and it appears she was on board when the transfer ship arrived.  Best guess is that she is Mechalus.

The girl nods to Marcia and hesitantly goes into the washroom.  The other prisoners files in and claim seats.  The big man with the mohawk evicts someone who had chosen a seat near the food dispensers and takes it for himself, his buddies finding places around.  Albius, as may be expected, takes an aisle seat in the back row.  Stego follows Argot and pauses when he sees the Mechalus woman, then seats himself between her and Argot.

Fortunately there are more seats than prisoners and in due time everyone has a chosen seat.  The doors close automatically behind the last prisoner.

The Mechalus prisoner stayed curled up in the seat... perhaps too shy to engage with anyone yet, or perhaps just observing.  She did have keen eyes, that resisted the urge to dart between points of interest; instead, they tracked between new stimulus purposefully and deliberative, though never lingering.  The Mechalus (female?) was cognizant that staring might invite confrontation.  That was unwanted - unwarranted - unneeded.  There was so much to process now.  So much input to analyze and assess to further the objective.  The ultimate objective.  Escape...

He may have lost some of his memory, he's not exactly aware of that, which is why he seems so confused, but he can still figure out what's going on... sort of. The moving force field pushes all the prisoners forward, out the door and onto a waiting ship.

He manages to find a seat, at least knowing that it is probably safer than standing up or even lying down. Once seated, he looks around at how many prisoners there are besides himself. He also examines his surroundings, attempting to assess any possible way of escaping. Or taking over the ship. That seems to be a more promising line of effort.

Even if he did whatever it is he's supposed to have done, he's not inclined to accept punishment for it until he remembers what happened. Thus, escape... if possible.

Marcia looks over the Mohawk squad by the food vendor, trying to decide if they are going to fuss and posture if she tries to get some food for the girl, and potentially herself.  Gods know how long this will take, and having a snack has gotten her through many long-winded debates and lectures.  She will try to sit near the girl, and Albius.

The girl comes out of the fresher looking more human: most of the grime is wiped from her face at least, showing pretty features marred only by a scar on her forehead that cuts through her left eyebrow.  Seeing the Mohawk guy by the food dispenser she avoids it and moves to sit with Albius and Marcia.

"Attention prisoners," a man's voice sounds from a speaker near the (presumably) front of the room.  "I am the first officer of this vessel.  The journey to Cygnus Omega is one jump from here, we will arrive within six days.  During that time you are free to move about in the passenger room so long as there is no trouble.  There will be no injuries requiring medical attention.  You will follow all instructions from myself or the guards.  If anything happens that I don't like I can fill the room with morph gas until you are all asleep and then we will secure you for the remainder of the trip.  There will not be any questions," his voice is somewhat high and nasalized, and even without seeing him the contempt he holds for the prisoners is obvious.

"Now settle into a seat and fasten the harness, we launch in five minutes."

As he puts on his harness Stego leans forward to the mechalus woman and says, "my dralasite friend here and I are putting a band together of non-humans, care to join us?" He follows it with a hissing laugh.

"Interrogative - a band to do what?" Europa said meekly and softly.  She had processed the announcement by the %FIRST_OFFICER% [OPEN QUERY = Discover_Name] and suspected the might be listening.  Her feelings toward %FIRST_OFFICER% was negative, but after responding to Stego, she followed the instructions for now, strapping herself in.  Once done, she looked for an open data port nearby.  Only a fool would allow her near a computer connection, but Europa hadn't collected enough information on %FIRST_OFFICER% to assess a level of competence yet.

Lacking any kind of head, or really even neck, the blob like creature's eyes seem to slide across it's surface to look sideways at the two people sitting next to him for a few moments.

”I think he wants to ask for our help protecting him from the angry humans.”

Marcia quickly uses the washroom herself, and sits next to the girl.  It looks hopeless, of course.  But many difficult problems that look hopeless have been solved with patience and planning and cooperation.  The first two, at least, she feels reasonably capable of providing.  She looks around for a speaker or camera, but the hard calculation in her eyes belies her bland expression as she tries to recall information and make calculations about her surroundings.."Theoretically," she asks the girl quietly, "how could the door to the crew compartment be opened from this side?"

Stego chuckles, "yes, that is basically what I was thinking.  Humans are pack animals, they band together against other species." He keeps his voice low, such that only Europa and Argot can hear him easily.

The girl almost jumps out of her skin when Marcia asks her the question.  "Huh?!" she starts displaying a lack of presence.  "Um, let me see... there is no panel on this side, and I didn't see a panel on the other side..." lack of presence but aware.  "But it has to have an actuator in wall somewhere, so I guess we ... er, that is, someone could try and remove a wall panel and get at that," she says looking back and forth between the door and Marcia as she speaks.

Marcia considers thoughtfully and scans the room -- paying special attention to the wall panels and even the floor panels. Action leaves traces. Actions leave an impression.  It might caught threads on a hem, or dirt on a rug or gossip in the bathhouse. But it was impossible to move through the world without at least leaving a subtle wake. If there was a panel that moved to let people in...that should leave a mark. If she pays attention, she might notice a little scuff around the edges of a frame or a shine to the edges of the floor. Something to betray that the panel has a difference from the others.   After buckling in, she leans over to the girl and whispers, "If anything happens and they might release the gas, the plan is to run into the washroom and seal the door from the inside. Don't be frightened, it's just better to plan for an emergency while things are calm."

Facial expressions, and even intonation, are very difficult to read off a blob of flesh, even it's eye like spots are not eyes and lack muscles around them to deform their shape in any meaning full way.  The words themselves however suggest a little bit of reproach for the presumed goal.

”The fastest way to make a pack aggressive is to treat it as if it is something separate or disconnected.  We would likely be better served by finding humans who have some need for us instead.”

"Your amorphous ability would be useful indeed," Strego says, keeping his voice low.  Looking at Europa, he adds, "I understand your people are cybernetic.  That would also have utility."  Europa nods noncommittally.  Looking around he nods his head towards Rurik.  "That one seems powerfully built," he says gauging the man's strength.  "But whom among the humans?"

Several rows away, the girl nods her understanding to Marcia, sitting in a seat with her feet up and hugging her knees.  Albius also nods, asking quietly, "have you an idea how to get out of here?"

"I have the start of a plan," Marcia whispers, "Help me look for a panel that looks a little scuffed or dented.  There must be a door or access panel in the cabin somewhere. Perhaps one of the aliens can help us access it and rewire it."  She looks around the cabin carefully, her brown eyes have spark of resolve.  She can't give up, not when the girl is counting on her. Her sense of honor demands that she do her best to protect a child (even if the resourceful delinquent is likely quite capable!).

With little choice, Rurik let himself be pushed forward to the exit door and then onto the ship. If there had been a viewport by which he could see the ship just before entering it, he did a quick visual assessment of it.

Three decks. They were being ushered into the middle deck. He looked around the deck with seats, trying to determine if this was just a cargo bay that had been converted for prisoner transport. Sensibly, the bridge would be forward on the upper deck. He vaguely recalled seeing some odd ship designs where things weren't placed 'normally', though.

Having found an unoccupied seat near the back, he assessed all the other prisoners. There seemed to be more than had been in the cell, so he evaluated them as best as he could. He wanted a head count, he wanted to know who was likely to be a help and who might be a hindrance, and he wanted to know what sort of ability they had.

At the announcement, he fastened his harness, but then looked around for where the vents might be that could emit the threatened gas, and attempted to figure out if they could be blocked with clothing or seat cushions or whatever was accessible in this room.

Grudgingly, he admired the arrangement--no guards in here to overpower or trick or influence or bribe. There was a weakness in that set-up, however, and he spent the time till lift-off trying to work it out.

One of the odd factoids that he'd picked up from watching too many spy-vids was that walls tended to be more vulnerable points that doors, since doors were usually sturdy and reinforced to prevent forced entry. It wasn't like he was expecting to be able to punch his way through a wall... certainly not the rear hull. Forward bulkhead? Maybe.

He also listened to the conversations the other prisoners were having, even closing his eyes to focus his hearing.

When he opened his eyes again, he visually examined the ceiling and the floor to see if there were any access panels. He then examined the seats in more detail. Did they have a metal framework? Were the buckles on the harness metal or plastic?

He wasn't familiar with this 'morph gas', but based solely on the name, it had to put people to sleep. Could they somehow catch/trap it to use on the guards when they came to get the prisoners? It might be worth examining the food station up front to see what was there. A plastic bag might be effective.

Rotating the eye like clusters away from the mouth that is still holding the conversation Argot manages to simultaneously watch those farther away and talk quietly to those nearby in a way few creatures are capable of, and none properly classed as humanoid.

”I have no doubt that the sensible humans will identify themselves in short order, or rather the senseless ones will do so by process of self elimination, hopefully without activating the gassing threat our captors are obviously reluctant to use.  Remain calm until we are underway and let them make the first move.”

The transport ship takes off from Noricum Prime with ease, the induction drive providing smooth acceleration with limited sensation.  But the atmospheric resistance is hard to miss, buffeting the ship somewhat and causing a distant but audible sound until the ship escapes its grasp.

The ship then settles into a stable and boring flight plan, effectively imperceptible to the passengers/cargo, making for the safe distance required to engage the Star Drive and make the jump.  After leaving the atmosphere some of the prisoners unbuckle, clearly they have interstellar travel experience, and soon enough the others follow suit and there is a general milling about again.

The girl looks to Marcia and says, "I can look around and see if anything looks scuffed up or such." she unbuckles herself and starts walking the perimeter of the room.

Marcia uses the general milling about as a distraction for her casual meander over to the group of aliens. Being casual doesn't seem to come naturally to her: even slouching Marcia carries herself with a deliberate dignity. A life of near constant, critical scrutiny had long since worn away anything like overt awkwardness or physical spontaneity. She lowers herself against the walls with a deliberate, smooth motion and an open handed, peaceful gesture. "I have made some observations," she offers quietly, 'regarding the placement of the cameras. If one of you happened to be strong or agile enough to shift the floor panels. It would be possible to access the space underneath without being seen." She pauses, glancing meaningfully from one to another. "If you were quiet or very, very fast, much could be accomplished. If any of you might be so inclined?"
This message was last edited by the player at 01:21, Mon 07 Mar 2022.

Argot watches the human's approach, hardly subtle as it is, but doesn't seem annoyed by the interruption, or overly suspicious of her intent.

”I can probably manage something with the floor panels, but stealth and subterfuge are not really my specialty.”

Marcia tilts her head slightly, and is quiet in thought for several seconds are she considers what to say. "I do not trust that those around would be stoic in the face of too much noise. But if the panel can be removed relatively quietly, and one skilled in engineering or programming could access the wires underneath quickly. It may be possible to open the door before the gas was released. If you wish, I will speak to the..leader..of those men and see if he can convince them to act nonchalant. It may increase the time between opening the panel and a response from the guards."

She pauses and suggests to Argot, "if you could...slide under the floor..you may escape even if we are rendered unconscious. Perhaps you could even find some other way to release us if this plan does not succeed. Just so you are aware, the gas they release works by body mass. It may kill me if they release too much. I find it an acceptable risk. Please consider assisting the girl if that happens, she is younger than she thinks.

OOC: Sorry for the double post,  I have a long day tomorrow and may not be able to post again w/in 24 h..just want to keep the ball moving.

Argot doesn't nod, or make any of the other expected gestures that even distantly humanoid aliens long since learned to mimic from humans, he simply keeps the eye clusters focused on the person he is talking to and replies in the same nearly monotone calm voice.

”I won't presume to speak for the reactions of others, but some distraction that falls short of the violence threshold might not be a bad idea.  Some kind of entertainment or mating ritual seems likely to do the trick.”

The girl is walking around the perimeter of the room as Marcia speaks with the non-humans, scooting quickly by the mohawk guy and his buddies when she gets close.  Mohawk makes a move, combination half-hearted grab attempt and rude gesture, and they three laugh when she scuttles away out of reach.

Stego nods at Marcia's suggestion, not quite comprehending apparently Argot's response.  Europa however nearly cracks her stoic facade, but simply raises both eyebrows with incredulity at the dralasite's suggestion.

Marcia's lips thin at the girl being harassed by the punks. To those who read human expressions, she finds their behavior unacceptable and is angry.  The calmness in her voice is strained. "Unfortunately, I think that a 'mating ritual' would start a riot.  Human making rituals are not like..a holovid. More than two people engaging in mating rituals together are either extremely violent and distressing or involve highly skilled and practiced participants. Those people are not capable of the latter."

She watches the punks with a covert appraisal. "I may not be able to approach them at all. They may harass me too much to listen to me -- even if this plan could save their lives. I will make an attempt, if you like.  But I suggest you proceed to the seats I indicated and start.  I will tell Albius and the girl the plan and I believe they will amenable, but perhaps those that are not involved in prying up the panel could sit around them to further hide them from view?"

Amiable, in his unusual way, Argot half rolls half slides off the chair such that three thick testicle like limbs support his mass as a tripod that allows an easy and very steady gait making his head or body seem to float down the length of the walkway between seats rather than bob up and down like a walking humanoid with bones.

When he reaches the designated location of the panel he simply stops with one of the three limbs up against it which then begins to mold itself into whatever kind of hand shape might get some grip on the edges of the panel before he starts pulling on it.

Argot manages to pierce through the cheap construction of the floor with a resounding thump - only slightly muffled by the thin carpeting on it.  With his elasticity he is able to squeeze what amounts to a fat finger through the hole and get a decent grip on the panel.

Several prisoners heard the thump, evident by the way they looked in his direction.  Most of them seem savvy enough to ignore it.

OOC: Wasn't really sure Marcia was including Rurik in the group of 'aliens'. He certainly doesn't think of himself as alien.


One way or the other, however, he overheard Marcia's comments about being able to use someone with strength. That was certainly the one thing he had!

After making sure this wasn't some sort of ploy to trap him into something that would get him into even more trouble, he just stood there at first, with his back to what the blob were doing... effectively blocking anyone else's view. Then, when no one was watching, he took a small step backwards while maintaining his pose. He repeated this several times until he reached where the blob was doing something to the floor.

"Name's Rurik. I'm strong if you need assistance," he offers as a whispered aside without fully turning his head.

Marcia takes a seat where she can block the view of those who try to figure out their ploy.  She acts as though there is nothing amiss, talking casually and drawing the attention of those who might pay attention to Argot's efforts.  If no one else says anything, she will comment quietly. "If anyone should enter, it would be helpful if some stronger people could delay them.  Even a few seconds could make the difference between victory and defeat.  And of course, they would be the first out of this prison when the doors open..."

OOC: Sorry..should have paid closer attention. Work has been crazy with extra crazy sauce.. :(

Even as the central mass of the blob like creature turns to focus its darkened sensory clusters on the nearby man speaking there is a quick sheering sound of metal being ripped from metal as the panel comes free.

As if to answer the question the floor panel swings around and is held up for him to take.
”Hold this, stand in the way.”

Without waiting for any kind of reply the bottom of the blob, or what might be a tentacle type limb or two begin to sink into the hole under the panel probing for a path of least resistance to follow into whatever hopefully important chamber lies beyond.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:49, Sat 02 Apr 2022.

At the sound of twisting metal, Rurik quickly grabs the panel that the blob handed him, holds it behind his back with one hand while he begins a fake coughing fit as he scans those up front to cover up the noise. If they heard the noise, maybe they didn't quite register what it was.

Besides, if he's coughing, they might think he has some illness that they'll want to avoid.

In either case, he now had a potential shield to use, both as defense and as a weapon.

"Not... *cough-cough* ...used to this... *cough, cough* ...canned air. Maybe... *cough, cough* ...filtration system is broken. *cough, cough*"

Marcia glances at Europa trying to get her attention.  The machine-person seemed distracted, and Marcia wasn't sure if she was a skilled actress or having a glitch. She murmurs quietly, "Ready to start reprogramming when Argot is clear of the panel?"  Marcia's posture was as disdainful as any haughty matron from a popular vid -- if she seemed too interested in anything, it could draw the attention of the guards.

Argot can see, by moving himself in, that there is a space between the compartment and the outer hull.  It is unlit and crisscrossed with struts, pipes and other industrial looking things, and it is very tight.  He could certainly make his way in there, not so sure about the humans.

Europa looks up at Marcia.  "If the ship is networked and we can access one of the circuits, yes.  The food dispensers and other computerized equipment in here are not linked to the ship's computer," she says glumly.  She was in the transfer ship when the rest of you arrived, it is likely she tried hacking the electronics in this chamber already.