Finding Evidence

[Ganbarenippon]

Jason Kennedy sat in the comfortable seats of the Mess aboard Golden Penny, a small private trader vessel registered to one Roger Jackson: a private trader out of Sitha. Of course the fact that Kennedy and Jackson were the same person was of trifling concern to the man currently scanning through the information files spread out on the table in front of him. That the same man also happened to be Peter Chetwynd, Squire of the Order of Managers for Altaine Industries, was of similar import. He rarely thought of himself as any one man anymore.

As he scanned through the files he pulled up the information he received from Knight Commander Angelica Delucci, lead investigator into the bombing of Golden Patriarch by "terrorist elements."

[General Retreat]

To: Peter.Chetwynd@AISolarius.SP.EM
From: Angelica.Delucci@AISolarius.SP.EM
RE: Investigation logs.
Attachment: CASEFILE.CYPT

Hi Pete

You got dragged into the investigation too, huh? This is all crazy - fleet's at full mobilisation and all kinds of conspiracies are flying about. All I know is we've got a good 14,000 civilians confirmed dead with another 3,000 missing. That's sick, you know? Who'd do a thing like that? In any case, here's a rough summary of events for what we've got so far. HQ said you've been given top priority clearance, so you'll be able to decrypt the attachment with the full technical details.

• The bomb itself was detonated in the main cargo unloading wharf - tore straight through the central pavilion and nearly bisected the entire station. We've got the burn reports in the attachment (document 4) and a rough chemical analysis. Secondary explosions from fuel, munitions and cargo going up seems to have done the rest. Initial charge seems to have been a large quantity of plastic explosives - we're talking in the tons here. Must have been using a large ship as the delivery vessel. We had salvage teams in the wreckage to try and grab some of the surveillance recordings, but the orbit deteriorated too far before we turned anything up.
• There's an awful lot of comm traffic surrounding the station immediately prior to the attack. A few choice transmissions were recorded remotely by nearby satellites, but again, most of the comm traffic directed to the Patrician was stored aboard on their local servers. One transcript of note (document 37a) appears to be a hail to Altaine Industries Cargo Transit Unit #SOL-34099. They had been directed to moor for an immediate security scan by station security.
• Following up on the above, we cross-referenced #SOL-34099 with logistics and came up with something interesting (document 41). That transport was impounded in the Gumpalt system a month ago. So how did that end up outside the Golden Patrician a few days ago? I spoke to the convoy commander and he said they'd taken the ship on bogus charges, evasion of export tax duty. Let the crew and the rest of the convoy go through. A complaint was filed with our ambassador but never went anywhere. I'm currently fighting for authorisation to get a ship out there to chase down that lead. HQ is stonewalling me.
• Tried to get a trace on the ion trails for #SOL-34099 to see where it had come from, but no luck there. That region is a mess at the best of times because of all the traffic, never you mind throwing a massive explosion into the mix.
• We've had profilers looking into this as well. Everyone who was within half a sector of the station after the explosion was promptly rounded up by scrambled SSDF destroyer patrols. We've grilled nearly all of them, and they all check out. So how did the bomber deliver the payload? If it was a suicide bombing there would likely be an ideological motive - hell, there's enough people who hate us planetside. But no-one has claimed responsibility or delivered a bill of demands. So maybe a remote piloted ship and detonation? AI transports are specifically designed to crap out if someone tries to tamper with them into working remotely. It's mostly an anti-piracy measure, so that rules out the local criminal cartels (who we're trying to shake down just in case, anyway).
• Deduction time. I think it had something to do with that transport. I think it's someone with system lord level resources, to get the gear together to mess with our bird. And my money - if I had to make a bet - would be on Gumpalt.

That's what we got so far. If you and your department haul out anything new, patch it through. We're all in this together after all, and I want to see those bastards rot. Keep an eye out for Omega reporters as well, friggin' vultures. We've had to drag a few officers off the case already for confidentiality breaches of their non-disclosure clauses.

All the best
Angie

---

Angelica Delucci
Knight Commander (Corporate Enforcement)
Tel (sector): +1263 0120442 34202543 23303 540109
Tel (local): +56 23303 540109

Please consider the company before printing
this email. Paper is expensive.

[Ganbarenippon]

"Jackson" finished re-reading the e-mail for what must've been the tenth time since he left Solaris. 'System Lord resources implies government, so it's no use just finding some small-fry weapons dealer, it'll need to be a bigger fish than that.' He thought, not for the first time. 'First I need to find out who sold the explosives, and I need to find some kind of record about the ship too. That'll give me some kind of "evidence" to work with. But it won't be enough, I'll need to put a face to this...' Golden Penny made it's steady way to Gumpalt Prime, as Jackson's thoughts whirled, just one more vessel in a busy system.

[Ganbarenippon]

A few hours later and Golden Penny had landed and Roger Jackson was making his way to a supplier of sundries he knew from his time as a freelance trader. Kelvin O'Hara was more than a simple purveyor of toilet rolls, toothpaste, and chips however, the man knew most dealings, shady or otherwise that took place around the main spaceport of Gumpalt Prime and had been known to steer Jackson towards more lucrative, if not entirely legal, contracts. If anybody would know where large quantities of explosives could be bought with no questions asked it would be him. He carried his dirk in a wrist sheath, concealed under his clothing. Peter Chetwynd was known for openly wearing his and it wouldn't do to have even the slightest chance of people making that connection.

Calmly, and painting a smile onto his face, he made his way into the store. "Kelvin! Long time no see my friend! I trust life has been treating you well?"

[General Retreat]

Kelvin's eyes widened. "Holy crap, Jackie Boy! I ain't see ya in, what? Five years? What brings you 'round to me humble shop?" He slapped his hands down on the counter and leant forward with a grin. Roger Jackson meant good times were coming, usually by way of a big commission tip from his client.

[Ganbarenippon]

"Five years eh? Well time flies out in Marcher Space." He grins. "I tell you lad, there's a killing to be made out there! They're rebuilding everything! And the women..." Roger shrugs eloquently. "They're...repopulating shall we say?" He chuckles throatily. "But that isn't what brings me here today, good as it is to see my old friend Kelvin, oh no sir!" Roger rambled on good-naturedly. "I need to find a supplier for a mining venture over Bastion-way that I have a stake in and I thought to myself 'Roger' I thought 'who do you know that can sort you out with an explosives supplier that doesn't ask too many awkward questions?' Of course I thought of my old friend Kelvin O'Hara, and here I am!" He beamed.

[General Retreat]

The smile dropped off Kelvin's face. "Now? You turn up now and ask about that?" His eyes dart nervously around the empty shop, as if suddenly concious that there could be lurking customers listening. "That's bad business, that right there." His ratty features, if anything, looked even more pinched and predatory as he scurried past Jason and bolted the shop door, flicking the sign to 'SHUT'.

He stood and wrung his hands wretchedly for a moment, before darting towards the stock room door. "Get back here you eijit, before you get us both arrested, or worse." Once Jason was inside, he spun around to confront him, still wringing his hands. "Now look here buddy, I don't know what you're into, and I don't wanna - but there was a big bomb that went off Solarius-way a few days ago, and now you show up asking for explosives." He chewed his lip nervously for a second. "Now I ain't saying you were mixed up in that or nothin', but right now, explosives are bad business. You get me?"

[Ganbarenippon]

"And a terrible business it was too. Of course I know you aren't implying I was in it Kelvin." Roger replies calmly placing a hand placatingly on the other mans shoulder. "I told you, I need them for a mining venture I have a stake in. I have the paperwork if you want to see it, but I'm sure you know you can trust me. I tell you what, I'll keep your name out of any business I do, and I'll pay double your usual commission so...6,000 Crowns?"

[Honors Bastion]

Base Roll: 10/20
Modifiers: 2,000 crown bribe = +2, +2 charisma
Final Roll: 14/20

Rolled a 13, so the man is just convinced of divulging the information.

[General Retreat]

Kelvin squeezed his eyes shut for a minute and furiously chewed his lip. This was a hard decision. On one hand, helping Jackson could get him in severe trouble if he was involved in the bombing. On the other hand, 6k was a whole lotta crowns... and he knew Jackson, right? He wouldn't be involved in a thing like that. Of course not. Drugs, maybe. Guns, probably. But blowing up civilian stations? Couldn't see it.

Mentally he flipped a coin and made a choice.

"Aright. Okay. I'll give you a lead on a place. But you didn't hear it from me, got it? And you pay up front, no backsies if they don't feel interested in your offer." He rubbed his temples, distracted. "How much you looking for, anyways? I know a few guys who can hook you up, but it depends on how much you want."

[General Retreat]

To: Peter.Chetwynd@AISolarius.SP.EM
From: Angelica.Delucci@AISolarius.SP.EM
RE: RE: Investigation logs.
Attachment: CASEFILE2.CYPT

Hi Pete

Where are you? I tried to call through to your extension but got a dead line. Your office is saying you're unavailable - hell of a time to take a holiday! Get in touch when you pick this up, we've had a major breakthrough and I want to go through it in person. Second opinion, see if you think we've missed any angles.

Basically, we've had salvage teams scouring through the wreckage. Looking for evidence, and cleaning up at the same time. The construction site is already up for the replacement, so I guess they don't want any junk snarling it up.

We recovered a section of hull from the delivery vehicle. Big news. There's a couple of shards of metal about the size of your front door, not much else. We got a partial ID off an incomplete component serial code on a weld, and that was confirmed by the chemical signature in the alloys (document 78) as belonging to #SOL-34099. Best part yet, is the burn report and chemical residue from the explosion matches that from the epicentre exactly (document 94). She's our baby.

I secured a copy of the impoundments notice from Procurement as well - it was locked down by by agents from Gumpalt Commonwealth Solutions. Seeing as we're being blocked from actually talking to anyone over there, I can only get the public information about them that's listed on the net (ewn.GCSinc.sp.gmp.com). They're a publicly incorporated firm that deals with debt and civil recovery on behalf of - get this - Gumpalt's Department of Census and Revenues, and several of the major merchant cartels.

So now it's just a case of joining up the dots. Where'd 34099 go from the impound? Who was controlling it?

Angie

---

Angelica Delucci
Knight Commander (Corporate Enforcement)
Tel (sector): +1263 0120442 34202543 23303 540109
Tel (local): +56 23303 540109

Please consider the company before printing
this email. Paper is expensive.

[Ganbarenippon]

Jackson glances at his communicator as it beeps, alerting him to a new message before looking back to O'Hara. "No backsies. You have my word friend. I'm looking for something in the order of tons. Plastique. Something cheap but safe to move in bulk. It's a hell of a long way back to Bastion and I don't want anything too unstable."

[General Retreat]

Kelvin sucked his teeth for a moment. "I know two guys who could do that - Olisaemeka Chinagorom's gone to ground, dropped off the radar a month or so ago. Eh, forget him." He scratched his head again. "The other'd be Horváth Zoltán, real nasty bastard. He's holed up on Fringe, one of the moons in orbit of Gampalt Minor. Fairly long trip out there, and there's nothing lawful folks are interested in so it's remote. Word to the wise, if you don't call ahead you'll likely end up blown to pieces on approach. He's like that."

[Ganbarenippon]

Roger closed his eyes and took a deep breath. " I see. I never have liked dealing with that sort...but perhaps needs must eh? What of Chinagorom? Any word out why he might have gone to ground? Anything I might be walking into with my eyes closed here, like...jealous competition or a legal sting?"

[General Retreat]

Kelvin shrugged. "Dunno. I heard he had some kind of a big deal going on with some guys out in the Oort Field, way outside the solar boundary. After that he just up and vanished." He stopped to puzzle that out for a moment. "I guess I just assumed he'd gone into hiding, ya know? Someone coulda knocked him off for all I know." He went over to his stock computer and entered the password. After a few moment of slowly typing with one finger, he brought up the information he was looking for and printed it off.

"Here's the coordinates for Fringe and the channel you should put your transponder on. You can have it when I get my money. After that, good luck." He looked down at the roll of paper in his hands. "Oh and Jackie-Boy? Don't come back for a while, yeah?"

[Ganbarenippon]

"Aye fair enough Kelvin." Jackson smiles as he transfers the 6,000 Crowns. "You'll not hear from me in a while, Bastion is a fair long way away anyhow. Much obliged my friend."

****
A few hours later Roger Jackson was sitting in the mess aboard Golden Penny once more looking over the latest intel from Delucci. 'Two leads now. The explosives or this private security firm?' Neither of them were particularly safe but then that was not why he earned his salary. The explosives lead was tenuous, and men such as this Zoltan were not in the habit of divulging their clients easily but if he could turn up who bought them he would have a name and a solid lead. The security firm would provide more solid evidence but not the name his master wanted. 'Follow the yarn for now Jason. The evidence will be viable, as will the suspect but you need to make it convincing. Time to go and see this Zoltan.'

****Several hours later aboard a small private runabout that he had acquired second hand after exchanging the Golden Penny (and gone shopping for a few more items) and with a course laid in for Fringe broadcasting the trasnponder frequency, Jackson looked over his equipment once more. He had his dirk, a pair of shock cuffs, a standard issue plasma pistol to which he had made a few modifications to increase accuracy and silence and his most important piece of kit, he had an IR drive; a portable information retrieval kit used for hacking databases remotely. If he could get it to withing 5 feet of Zoltan's mainframe he could pull the client list off of it, if he couldn't...he would have to do things the hard way.

He hated the hard way.

His attention turned to the console as it beeped to show an incoming transmission.

[General Retreat]

In the far distance ahead of the ship, Gumpalt Minor was just about visible. It was a large ball of rock, devoid of anything useful or interesting. Over the centuries, various prospectors had surveyed the planet hoping to find a lode that their predecessors had missed. They invariably went home disappointed.

Tidally locked into the planet's deep shadow was the tiny moon of Fringe. It was from there the broadcast originated, patchy and flecked with statiC. "Unidentified ship, we've got three long range missiles trained on your transponder output and your engine signature. State your business and be convincing."

[Ganbarenippon]

"The name's Raven." Jackson/Kennedy replied, letting no trace of the tension he felt bleed into his tone. "You might have heard of me. And unless your name is Zoltan all you need to know is I'm here for business, fortunately for your master I'm not working a contract on him. I'm here for supplies." For a moment Jackson wondered if he had pushed it too far, but when dealing with scumbags one of the few ways to have them respect you was to show no fear, and to prove you were still more dangerous than them. It'd been years since he had inhabited the persona of Raven, but he hoped that the reputation of that name in this part of space would still hold cache. Otherwise he was about to be shot out of the sky.

[Honors Bastion]

Same base roll as earlier.

Base Roll: 10/20
Modifiers: +2 charisma
Final Roll: 12/20

Rolled a 8, so the black marketers are convinced that you do not pose a threat.

[General Retreat]

The radio was dead for five long minutes, with nothing more than the thrum of the engines breaking the silence. Abruptly it crackled back to life, the same voice as before barking through the speakers. "You live another day, Raven. I'm dispatching docking codes and a route in. Bring cash. And if we so much as suspect you're an inch less than what you say you are, you're a dead man. Got it?"