Edge of the Void - Campaign Turn 2

After a near disastrous mission Captain Tareefa and her retinue take a job that promises to be as lucrative as it is easy.

Chapter 2 - Brass and the Gang

The mornings in Yamham-Mavit city were much like the rest of the day; hot and laden with acrid smog. Lord Captain Tareefa el-Khatib kept her rebreather tightly in place as she made her way through the lower city districts. Things had been slow for the last few days, ever since her retinue had mounted a near disastrous raid on a mercenary camp at the behest of Drusaal United Mining. They had successfully eliminated their target but it had landed two of their number in the medicae suite for the foreseeable future. As such Tareefa was content to let them regroup and recuperate for a time. Not for too long though, stand still long enough and you’ll forget how to move forward. And so while the Rogue Trader wasn’t explicitly looking for work, she was chasing down a rumour that could prove to be lucrative. 

Her quest had taken her to a dive bar in the lower city. It was fairly up-market by lower city standards, they had at least attempted to cover the smell of stale vomit and the bruiser guarding the door was only missing two of his fingers. The man Tareefa was meeting, a ganger by the name of Brass, was already seated in a booth. He was alone but the other patrons in the bar were almost certainly gang members if they didn’t own the bar outright anyway. The Rogue Trader slid into a seat opposite Brass, she didn’t order a drink.

Hive city Bar scene Concept by Akshay Misra

Brass didn’t waste any time in explaining what he wanted, they both were here on business after all; the threats and muscle flexing would come when it was time to settle payment. There was a cogitator terminal that needed accessing, the easiest job on Drusaal according to Brass. Internally Tareefa wondered why the gangers hadn’t done it themselves if it was so easy, instead she asked what the catch was. 

“No catch” the ganger grinned, “the terminal is just outside a corpo storage yard though.”

‘Corpo’, the Captain assumed, probably referred to one of the conglomerate industries that have both the firepower and political influence to exterminate the gang and write the expense off as an accounting error. 

“Who’s storage yard is it?” she asked. The answer was largely irrelevant, it was more about how Brass answered. Like a rank amateur he actually answered the question, rather addressing the concerns.

“Offworld Trading Syndicate.”

It also sounded like a lie, which Tareefa also mentally filed away for later use. She nodded as if she believed him and gave him a figure that was almost, but not quite, too good to be true. Brass eagerly accepted without bargaining, another sign the Rogue Trader was dealing with idiots. Their business concluded she left the bar and took a groundcar back to the Stormspite. 

Back on board the gun-cutter Tareefa briefed her crew on the job. Her Tech-Adept, Gluvico, confirmed the location of the cogitator terminal. And, interestingly, that the storage yard belonged to Drusaal United Mining not the Offworld Trading Syndicate. That raised some eyebrows, particularly those of Armsman Bron Duke and Death Cultist Shai who’d been badly wounded in their last job, one they undertook at the request of Drusaal United Mining. Liberating some goods from the storage yard would be an easy way to line their pockets. Not to mention, getting one over on the company that had nearly cost them their lives would do wonders for morale. 

Battle 2 - Outer Storage Depot

Nights on Drusaal were hot and gloomy, the dust trapping the heat of the day and keeping visibility low. Unperturbed, the four figures made their way through the alleyways to the place Brass had indicated. The Captain was mildly surprised to find that there was in fact a cogitator terminal where he had said it would be. And honestly, she was also mildly annoyed that there wasn’t a gaggle of gangers lying in wait to ambush the crew. There was still time she supposed. Not that they were going to linger and find out. Tareefa dashed down a side alley, eyes peeled for any movement. 

Tech-Adept Gluvico accesses the data terminal.

The guard in the storage yard, underpaid and ill-equipped, spots the Gluvico and sends a panicked shot sailing well wide of his target. It takes a moment for the guard to realise Gluvico isn’t alone and promptly flees into the dust and darkness. Unperturbed, Gluvico and Guillermo make their way to the terminal. With his technical expertise access took a moment and in another moment the crew had the information they had been hired to get. 

Before they left the Rogue Trader sensed an opportunity, specifically an opportunity to stick it to Drusaal United Mining. The guard, having fled, had left this corner of the storage yard unprotected. And so the crew set about prising open the doors of containers and breaking open crates. Admittedly in this forgotten corner of the storage yard there wasn’t much of value, but in one of the containers they found a rack of casks containing concentrated reduction solution. Nominally used in industrial qualities to refine the various ores mined from Drusaal’s surface it nevertheless had a wide variety of uses. Particularly in the criminal underworld. Each member of the crew grabbed a cask and they quickly and quietly made their way back to the Stormspite.

Aftermath

The next day the Rogue Trader was back in the same dingy bar in the slums of Yamham-Mavit city and sat opposite Brass. There were considerably more gangers in attendance this time. Most of them were milling around the bar nursing their drinks. All of them were armed and not so subtly watching the interaction with Brass. 

“You get what I asked for?” he had asked a little too excitedly as Tareefa slid into her seat. 

“I did,” she replied, “You have my payment?”

With a smug grin Brass pulled a stub revolver and pointed it at the Shipmistress, finger on the trigger. 

“Right here. Now put it on the table and slide it across.”

Tareefa sighed and pulled out two devices from her coat and slid one of them, a data-slate, across the table to Brass who quickly scooped it up and stuffed it into a pocket. He relaxed a little and glanced at his fellow gang members, no doubt hoping to see looks of approval for getting one over on the Rogue Trader. Brass stood from the booth looking more than a little triumphant. 

Hive city Bar scene Concept by Akshay Misra

That of course was what Tareefa was waiting for, no easier way to wrong-foot your opponent than to let them think they’ve won before telling them they have lost. In the scramble to right themselves that’s where they’re most vulnerable, and that’s where the most profit was. 

She cleared her throat loud enough that Brass turned back to her.

“I believe it’s considered bad manners to leave part way through a negotiation.”

Brass looked incredulous. 

“What? No, we’re done. I have the information you got for us!”

“No,” the Captain replied cooly, “What you have is a data slate containing the location of the secure storage I have hidden the information in. Now we negotiate payment.”

“The payment!” Brass thundered, “Was that I don’t blow your dustin’ head off offworlder!”

Tareefa didn’t respond. Several gangers stirred from their drinks and started reaching for their weapons. Brass’ arm holding the gun snapped up, finger still on the trigger.

“Take us there!” he growled, “Now!”

“All in good time… Chester.” she said, using Brass’ actual name. It hadn’t taken long for Gluvico to dig that one up.

Chester ‘Brass’ Terson looked momentarily stunned.

“That ‘posed to scare me?!” he asked, the stub revolver wavering slightly. 

“No.” Tareefa replied, placing the second device she had taken out of her coat in the centre of the table and activating the holo-projector. An image of Stormspite flickered into existence, rotating slowly. 

“Just showing you how far my reach extends.” she continued. 

Brass’ eyes flicked to the image of the gun-cutter and back to the Rogue Trader. 

“Stormspite here isn’t particularly heavily armed, but it will make short work of this establishment. And thanks to the locator built into the datas-slate you just pocketed, it won’t have trouble finding us either. No matter where you run.”

Tareefa let Brass grapple with the reality of the situation for a few moments. His lips moved as he tried to think of a way to get the information without paying, stay alive and most importantly, maintain his reputation. 

“Or, you could pay me. I will give you the location of the hidden cache. And we all live to see another day.”

Brass regained some of his composure, “Fine. Fine! Disable the locator and we’ll pay.”

It was the Captain’s turn to grin with no small amount of smugness. 

“That’s extra.” she said firmly. 

Brass replied through gritted teeth, “How much?”

And that’s exactly where Tareefa wanted him: ego slightly bruised, moderately panicked but mostly just desperate to be out of this situation. The figure she told him was exorbitant enough to be almost insulting. In response Brass swore loudly and waved the stub revolver around haphazardly, finger still on the trigger of course. He sighed, lowering the stub revolver and he countered with a more reasonable but still exorbitant number. 

“Chester Terson,” Brass winced slightly at the use of his full name, “We have a deal.”

Long minutes passed as funds that were never meant to be paid were gathered. The Rogue Trader sat in the booth patiently, occasionally checking her chrono. One ganger even placed what Tareefa assumed was a mug of ale flavoured water down in front of her. She didn’t touch it, Drusaal wasn’t known for its fermentable crops. Eventually, a filthy and worn leather satchel was dumped in front of her. 

Tareefa stood from the booth at last. Covertly signalling the Stormspite, she picked up the satchel, drew one of her ornate pistols and pointed it at Brass. Instantly every ganger was on their feet with weapons drawn. 

“We had a deal!” raged Brass. 

“And we still do.” the Captain replied as she slowly made her way to the door. 

As if on queue there was a roar of jets as the Stormspite arrived overhead. 

“Offworlder!” Brass screamed. “The location!”

Tareefa grinned. 

“It’s written on the back of the data-slate, idiot.”

And as every eye turned towards Brass, she slipped out the door.