Fantasy World Creations

4:00 AM Confederation Standard Time
     The ship's intercom crackles to life and the captain's voice pipes into your quarters, interrupting your sleep.  "Rise and shine everybody!  We're an hour from dropping out of FTL so make preparations for docking.  Get your grub on and get to work."  With a sudden increase in the background humming noises the lights in your room flick on to full power from the low nighttime levels.  You hear the metallic banging of doors opening and closing, groans from others whose sleep was suddenly ended, and chatter of the early risers all comming from the other side of your cabin's door.  You are on The Brown Tide: a free merchant vessel that you chartered to your destination.  Your one and a half week long journey was comming to an end today.  Outside the window of your cramped cabin stars streak by, or at least that is what it looked like.  You remember someone in highschool saying it was actually exotic particles interacting with the FTL drive but that didn't dim the glimmer of those streaking "stars".
     Your cabin is small, the best you can afford with the travel expenses dispensed to you for the journey and little more than a bed and a side table with an overhead compartment for essential clothes and gear.  The rest of your possessions are in the cargohold.  You don't have any duties to perfom on the ship as a passenger and can spend the time to arrival as you see fit.  The clamour outside seems to have died down as the crew has moved on to breakfast and their duties.

Trevor grabbed his bags whistling a tune as he went from some cheesy space cartoon that he used to watch as a child. Moving to the galley he grabbed a tray and sat down to eat quickly from the prefabricated human safe food while trying to roll the kinks out of his neck. Standing above six feet did not help with cramped space travel, but little could cramp his style this morning so close to his new life out of the academy. He was excited to get things started and see what name he could make for himself leaving virtually no ties behind on his home waiting to hear from him. Outside of the Academy, his entire life lay in front of him and he was looking forward to what his fortunes might bring it helped too that a portion of his class including Drake his roommate was being put on this station to bring in some new blood. This was really the beginning of Trevor's story.

     The galley is crowded with the crew eating their breakfast when you get there.  "Breakfast" being synthesized protein ration packs and a bag of synthetic coffee.  On the tail end of this leg of the ship's journey, the only packs left are an oatmeal flavored paste with the accomanying flavor additives having been snatched up by more experienced crew members that knew the last day before port was always rough on the palate.  Shortly after you start digging into your paste the captain enters the galley and comes over to sit next to you.  As old and salty a sailor as you could imagine, the captain was a gregarious man that had been keen to talk to you throughout the trip.  "Well, guess its the day we part ways greenhorn.  After we drop out of FTL its only about a half hour to docking.  If you want, you can come onto the bridge to watch the approach."  He stretched his arms out and straightened the old greatcoat he wore.  "If you're interested, feel free to come to the bridge.  I was just comming down here TO MAKE SURE THOSE LAZY CREW MEMBERS WERE GETTING TO THEIR DUTIES."  He shouts as he looks around before giving you a grin.  The crew members still in the galley groan and begin to hurry about finishing up their meals, dumping their trays into the dish washer receptacle on their way out of the galley.

Trevor nodded, "Absolutely Captain, it's probably one of the few times I'll be able to see what it feels like to live in one of those space recruitment ads." Seeing his home from the outside within the vast picturesque vacuum was still a new experience in his mind this being his first or second time actually in space. He had looked up images of the station he was to make his home but to see it like this in person was a rare opportunity that he might not ever see again.

     "Ha!  Yeah, 'Join the Confederation Police Service, the shield that protects all!'"  The captain recited the standard recruitment tag that finished off all the ads the Confederation Police airs.  "Well, I can't promise an exciting starship pursuit but I have always liked the view of the approach to Bluelight.  Probably 30 minutes before anything intersting happens on the bridge so drop by around then.  I need to go and make the rounds to keep the grunts in line and make sure everything is ready for docking."  The captain stands up and grabs a bag of synthetic coffee from the bin.  "Feel free to come along if you are bored for time."  He breaks the seal and unplugs mouth of the bag with his teeth before sucking down some of the now lukewarm liquid.  "Ah, nothing wakes you up quite like that taste."  He says as he purses his lips.

"Sure, I honestly have nothing better to do at the moment." He said while standing one final spoonful of nutrient oatmeal left in his mouth ready to follow. He did not mind eating things like this but he wondered how Drake his roommate, had faired on the last few days on his journey to this station. He would probably have thrown a fit if he had to have nothing but synthesized meat for days on end. He did personify certain stereotypes about his race at times making him like a moppy dog.

     "Alright then, off we go."  The captain turns and heads out to the main corridor and heads towards the front of the ship to a small cramped room filled with displays of different astronavigation charts.  There the ships navigator, a human like the rest of the crew, sat looking at the various charts and making notes on a datapad.  "Jeffry, how's the course plotting going?  We're only going to be docked long enough to fuel up.  We have to be at Jerrus 5 in four days."  Jeffry looks up from his datapad.  "Working on it boss, word is it's ion storm season through the Bohbin Expanse.  We might need to route around it if we don't want to risk the ship."  The captain chews on the tip of the coffee bag a bit, a frown on his face.  "What kind of options do we have?  We need to  drop off our cargo at the colony on time and we also need to meet up with the snake about a replacement fuel conduit but he won't hang around forever."
[info]You may make an astronavigation check if you wish.[/info]

Astronav check
[info]Log + Astronav
[blockquote]Rolled 8d6 : 6, 4, 1, 6, 3, 1, 6, 3, total 30[/blockquote]
[/info]

[info]You notice on one of the charts pulled up on one of the screens that there is a possible route through a region called The Tentacles of T'Nash which looks like it could provide a route around the Bohbin Expanse in a more roundabout fashion.  The route looks like it will take a rougly equivalent amount of time to the current route you see plotted on the various charts.[/info]

Glancing over the shoulder of the captain at the astrological charts Trevor noticed a route that Jeff had yet to highlight. "Why not head through the Tentacles of T'Nash? It will be about the same amount of travel time while avoiding the Bhodin Expanse. I'm sure with some smart flying you could make it without much trouble." He was not one to one up others at their jobs but these people had been more than kind to him and if he had a way of paying them back even a little he was more than happy to do so,

     "Hmmm, through the tentacles eh?  We could try for it.  That's Red Dragon territory but I think..."  Jeffry looked at the charts for a moment before scrolling through his datapad.  "Ah, there we go, Peacekeepers have a checkpoint set up on the main route through.  Red Dragons wouldn't risk anything if we keep to the well traveled routes. and it will only cost us a few minutes at the checkpoint."  The captain sucks down the remainder of his bag of coffee and finishes with an overexagerated smack of his lips.  "Ah! There you go greenhorn.  It's a shame you decided to sign up with the cops.  Could always use a good crewmember."  He turned back to Jeffry.  "Tentacles it is."  The captian wheels around and heads down the hallway towards the back of the ship. Stopping at a ladder which descends down through the deck, he sticks his head down the descent and yells.  "RILEY! HOW ARE WE DOING ON FUEL?"  You hear the somewhat muffled response.  "Just about dry.  We are gonna need a full tank of gas.  Also, the reactor's gonna need a good cleaning out in the next couple of weeks.  We should do that while we are in the Jerrus system."  The captain frowns again before shouting back down.  "ALRIGHT, WE'LL SEE.  We can see how much that runs us and maybe get it handeled with the fuel conduit installation at the same time.  I swear sometimes running this baby costs more than I make."

[info]Rolling Industrial mech or Knowledge bureaucracy to see if I know a way for them to get more out of their systems or a better deal/speeder deal through the proper channels whatever makes more sense same  dice pool regardless 

Log + Industrial mech/ know bureau
[blockquote]Rolled 8d6 : 2, 5, 3, 6, 2, 5, 6, 5, total 34[/blockquote]
[/info]

[info]Reactor maintenece is a common enough procedure and necessary.  It requires the ship to be completely shut down so that the reactor core can be accessed.  Doing so is best done in the safety of a shipyard where there are services available to power the ship in the event power stores can't sustain the ships's systems for the duration of the maintenence.[/info]

Tech like this always had been a topic of interest for Trevor he listened thinking about just how expensive it was to keep a ship like this running. He did a quick tally in his head attempting to figure out the costs only to decide that the numbers were too numerous to simply figure out in his head. He could only imagine the numbers floating around the Captian's head at any given moment not to mention watching his crew and cutting deals. The power of commerce was something to be truly feared and respected or else be swallowed whole by it.

Commerce worked on a much larger order of magnitude and yet it was up to people like him to be the watch dogs and bet their own lives as the hounds of sheep. Well if he was honest he did have to say he did not dislike the idea of being able to play on that kind of stage. Being able to help and protect others was by far a worthwhile reward for it too considering the pay of a civil servant was less than ideal. Like this crew and their run-down ship it was less about the money and more about being able to live the life they wanted as they wanted for the sake of themselves and their loved ones he could respect that. " So Captain, you've got me curious what's your next port of call at Jerrus 5 in just four days? Considering you are thinking of going through the Tentacles I imagine you have a nice paycheck coming up." He asked as they kept moving.

     The captain finished sucking up the remainder of his coffee and let the bag hang from his mouth for a moment before taking it away with one of his hands.  "Nothing too extravagent.  Mostly moving a couple shipements of small arms, some alloys, pharmaceuticals... You know, nothing too crazy.  Smaller ships like ours mostly make our money by taking on the small remainders that need to get around a bit faster than one of those bulk freighters.  We also need to get to Jerrus 5 to visit the shipyards.  Have a deal with a parts dealer but they are in a similar situation to ours and have places to be so theyh won't wait up if we can't make the connection.  Might need to take the time to do some reactor maintenence I guess.  The old saying that time is money is doubly true for cargo ships.  Time not going from one place to the next is time wasted." 

"Oh yeah, Does Jerrus 5 have one of those fancy orbital shipyards? some of the Fed class starships on earth were not really made to be landing planetside. We studied some of the mechanics and fuelling at the academy during general training."Trevor said as he continued to follow along more than happy to chat.

     The captain resumed his march down the main corridor and scrunched up the pouch in his hand.  "Yeah, major orbital dock out there.  The O'Cahn Conglomerate runs the show and has a decently cheap docking fee so lots of folks use it for maintenence and meeting up.  Also helps that they don't crack down too hard on people running their own deals too hard."  The two of you reach the end of the corridor and the captain opens up the double wide door to the cargobay.  The cargo bay is filled with goods.  Crates are stacked nearly to the ceiling everywhere except for a space near the cargo bay doors on the starboard side of the ship where your car sits with the rest of your belongings.  Several members of the crew are milling around double checking the ship's inventory.  The captain shouts out.  "Remember, the comlinks, spices, and exosuits get dropped off here and we got to make room for those plasma rifles and the alloys.  Make it work boys."  You hear the crew murmur assent.  "Oh yeah, and the car.  That'll be out of the way too."  The captain looks at you.  "Sorry, almost forgot about you there."

"I ask that you be careful with her," Trevor said with a smirk, "I had to get her rebuilt for Fed standards they won't let you use a civilian car unless it's fit for all the races. She has a fresh coat of paint and everything it would be a waste of good credits to have to do it all over again once I get to the station. Though carrying her along did give me an excuse to ride along with you guys versus taking a standard ass boring transport."

     "I get the sentiment.  Classic ride like that is hard to part with.  Careful though, some of these Confederation stations are nothing like the colonies back in the Sol system.  If you aren't careful that ride could get jacked, cop car or no."  The captain checks the time on his comlink and turns back around to start walking back down the main corridor.  "Got to get to the bridge, we're about to drop out of FTL."

"Right behind you boss" said Trevor as he followed behind the captain to the bridge.

     The two of you make your way back to the front of the ship, just past the astronagivation room.  The bridge is small and cramped.  Two more crew members sit in two of the three chairs arrayed before the main viewing window.  The captain takes his seat in the remaining chair, bigger and more comfortable looking than the others, and flips up a small screen out of the armrest.  "You can catch the view over there.  I'd hold on if I were you."  The captain motions with his head off to the corner behind him where there appears to be the life support control system.  There is no seat at the readout panel but there are safety rails framing the panel.  The captain pulls a hardwired microphone off the back of his chair and flips it on.  "Alright this is your captain speaking.  We are dropping out of FTL in less than 2 minutes so prepare yourselves."  He hangs the microphone back up.  "Alright Sam, how are we looking for approach?  No lollygaggers around the dropout site?"  One of the crewmembers, presumably Sam, swivels his chair around to answer.  "No FTL wakes heading for our destination.  Should be good unless someone is stalled out."  The other crewmember on the bridge anounces out without turning from his post.  "Guess we are about to see.  Dropping out of FTL!"  The crewmember grabs onto the rail along the edge of his console.
     In what you are pretty sure was nowhere near 2 minutes the ship shudders then lurches hard, hard enough to throw anyone standing and without one of the plentiful safety rails.  Sam, apparently not using his safety belt, is caught unawares and is bucked out of his chair and sprawls out on the floor.  Through the main viewing window you see a bright flash and concentric waves of light, like water flowing up the windshield of a speeding car, flow around the unseen FTL field to give way to the glimmering stars of space.  The stars stand still for a moment before sweeping diagonally as the ship turns.  The stars give way to a deep blue which fills the view from the freemerchant and in the middle of it a metallic cylinder, with eight arms projecting out from the middle like spokes from the hub of a wheel.
     "Whew, always the best part of the ride!  Well, there you have it greenhorn.  Bluelight Station."  The captain spins around in his chair and sweeps out his arm to the station before looking down at Sam, groaning on the floor.  "Oh come on Sam, you're embarassing yourself in front of the Greenhorn.  Get your ass back on the comms station."  The other crewmember snickers from his seat.

Trevor still grasped onto the handrail as they left FTL. Sitting strapped down in his cabin had been a different experience all together then being here on the bridge. Seeing the cascading light show on the deck took his breath away in more ways than one. Steadying himself by bending his knees so that he would not pass out from the tension that he had unconsciously been holding at the last moments. "Now that's a rush though I don't know if I could take those kinds of jumps too often." He said out loud more to himself than anyone in particular. Once he regained his composure a bit he moved forward to get a better view of the station that was to be his new home.

     The captain smiles.  "Heh, well ships with better inertial dampeners don't have quite the same kick.  I bet those police patrol boats are a smooth ride."  He spins his chair back around.  "Sam get on the horn and start broadcasting our credentials.  We don't want the station blowing us out of the sky now do we?"  Sam pulls himself up into  his chair and puts on a headset.  "Bluelight Station, this is the Brown Tide requesting a docking bay.  We are transmitting our ship's registry and cargo manifest."  As he speaks the station grows in size.  Seeming to hear a response, Sam knods and talks over his shoulder.  "Alright, we are cleared for docking bay 6-57.  Guidance beacon is up and we are hooked into the local matrix."  The other crewmember nods and turns around in his chair.  "OK, autopilot has us homing in.  Smooth sailing from here."  He then leans back in his chair and props his legs up on the console.  The captain nods.  "Good, now we get to sit back and enjoy the view."  He pulls out his comlink and starts flicking away.  "Always got to check for messages.  Never know who has left a job offer around when you are on the move like us."   He says absentmindedly as he continues to flick through messages.
     The station continues to take up more of the view as the ship approaches.  The brilliant blue cloud of the nebula slowly roils behind it.  "Big time money to be made out in that nebula.  Lots of survey expeditions make their way out into it to find extractable resources.  I hear the nebula is chock full of asteroid fields ripe for mining oerations.  Not the kinda thing we are equipped for though, would need a complete overhaul of our sensor suite, expand the fuels reserves, not to mention the defense systems.  All that and I'm too much a fan of the comforts of explored space anyways." 

Trevor nodded, following suit with his commlink getting connected to the station's Matrix while wondering if he should send Drake a message or not. That Behemoth of a roommate of his was large even for his species so if he was not at work or asleep he was probably slamming down some food somewhere.

The two of them had shared a room at the academy together ever since freshman year. Giving them the nickname "married" carried over from an old Sol custom when Earth had a physical navy at Annapolis for when cadets would bunk through all 4 years together through the highs and lows. They made a good wingman Drake had the physical prowess and charms were impressive even if he needed help with some of the more technical side of things, which Trevor was able to provide in spades.

Other than him, he didn't really expect much in terms of messages aside from the usual spam. Swiping to open his inbox to see if there was anything pressing need his attention. "There is a risk no matter where you go in life Boss. But feel free to rely on me to keep those comforts for you." He smirked while he continued to think, I'm going to be cop in a far away station for the sake of that peace so it takes as many people buying into those norms for that kind of thing to exist in any real sense. The key in it all is simply weighing that risk with how badly you want to do something, If there is something they taught us at the academy it was to not shy away from staring at that unkown directly because its when you flinch that things go completely out of your control.

     The station now fills most of the field of view and its size is beginning to impress upon you.  Thousands of lights glimmer on the stations surface and the freemerchant draws closer, making a line for one of the arms.  You begin to see the movement of other ships heading to and from the station.  Freighters and cruisers move with a floating grace as frigates zip around them. 
     In just a few minutes The Brown Tide is among the bustle of ships on approach.  The station is now practically the only thing that can be seen from the viewing window.  The ship begins to circumnavigate the station, passing along the spars while other ships fly to and from docking bays large enough to house cruisers.  The ship then makes a final change in course as it homes into an empty docking bay.  With a slight shudder the ship sets down and the captain pops up out of his chair.  He grabs the microphone "Alright everybody, we've landed!  Make preparations for refueling and cargo transfer."  He hangs up the microphone and turn to you.  "Well I guess it's time for yout to get your stuff in the cargo bay.  I've got to go meet up with the dockmaster so I'll take my leave.  Good luck to you greenhorn."

"Aye aye Capt'n," Said Trevor with a smile and a small salute before moving to leave the men to their work. "Thanks for the ride if you ever need the help of a cop for anything let me know." And like that he was gone and moving to the cargo bay his bag over his shoulder his commlink still loading. He thought everyone on the brown tide was reasonable enough, but it was worth just checking through his things and having his car scanned. Who knows what kind of idiot might want to stash contraband in a cop's car for the sake of attempting to get past certain screening checks. Just to make sure he attempted to send a note to the Harbor at the station for a full scan unit to meet him as he disembarked flashing his Academy clearance just so they realized why he was looking for some extra scrutiny.

     The captain walks a few strides with you before taking a turn to walk down a side corridor to where one of the personnel hatches is.  You arrive at the cargo bay to find the bay's doors open to the expansive docking bay.  A motly ground crew of assorted confederation races can be seen approaching the ship carrying a variety of equipment.  Leading the pack, headed straight for the cargo bay doors, is a viguawa wearing the red uniform of an official from the Trade Council flanked by two isselessians wearing the blue uniforms of Confederation police.  The captain strolls out to greet them, apparently having made good time with his detour, and begins to talk to the viguawa as the rest of the ground crew spreads out to different parts of teh ship.  They begin to talk but the conversation quickly seems to take a turn for the worse as their voices raise. 
     "A full scan?  That'll take hours!  What am I supposed to do in the meantime?"  The viguagua bristles at this and the feathers on the top of his head raise slightly.  "Station security has recieved a tip on the possibility of smuggled goods.  We are going to need to verify your crew manifest and sweep the ship and all cargo."  The isselessian on the viguawa's left steps forward.  "Listen human, if you don't comply with the scan your ship is grounded while you take a trip down to the administration office to pay your fine."  The captain throws his hands up in exasperation.  "This is ridiculous!"  He turns around and spots you.  "Well greenhorn I hope your anal sphincter is loose because its about to be put through its paces.  Apparently, someone flagged us for a full scan."

"Sorry captain, it's probably my fault. The internal administration system probably flagged my comm due to the Academy signature for further scrutiny. Wanting to make sure everything is above board with me joining the force and ten thousand other reasons, not discluding ego." He said leaning in close as the captain approached to complain. "you know how the bureaucracy can be at times not wanting to show favoritism."

"But hey, you have to get this baby fueled regardless right? If you want I can try to talk them into letting the harbor fuel you up while you're waiting, and you can begin digging into prices and specifics of the parts you need for the engine so that way you won't be that far behind. Plus with the dangers of the Tentacles its worth making sure you are prepared and functional with that fuel line and what not while you have the time and supplies at least for stop gap repairs with the station resources."
[info]Rolling negotaiton
Cha 4 + Neg 4 + Influence Group 3
[blockquote]Rolled 11d6 : 2, 6, 2, 4, 4, 3, 4, 4, 3, 6, 4, total 42[/blockquote][/info]

[info]1 Edge reroll

[blockquote]Rolled 9d6 : 2, 1, 4, 6, 4, 2, 3, 3, 4, total 29[/blockquote][/info]

[info]The Captain's Judge Intentions Roll[blockquote]Rolled 7d6 : 5, 4, 5, 4, 2, 5, 3, total 28[/blockquote][/info]

     The captian gives you a strained look. "I can't have my ship get torn apart just to satisfy the trade council.  I'm getting that fuel line at a steal and if we aren't out of here in the next two hours I don't know if we'll make it.  C'mon greenhorn you're confederation now.  Isn't there something you can do to smooth this over with the blues over there?"  He motions with his head over to the trio.  One of the isselessians seems to be keeping an eye on the two of you while the three of them make conversation.

" Sir, I'm a greenhorn like you say." as he took a few steps towards the three customs officers.  "Even if one of your hands comes up to you with information don't you take it with a grain of salt? What's more no one knows me from their representative on this station. So I'm even less credible than that. If we were on Earth I could try to pull something but I have no favors to offer outside of bureaucracy and protocol. Maybe I can help speed through some of the paperwork on your end so that you can get that third hour off and inside the window you need. It's the paperwork that takes the most time anyway. Send me the manifests and cargo information and I'll try to help them keep organized and at a fast pace. I'll see what I can do." He held up his hands in an apologetic gesture as moved to talk to the customs officers.

     "Alright greenhorn, I'm counting on you."  The captain hands you two datachips that he produces from one of his pockets.  As you approach the trio the isselessian that had been watching you nods to the others who turn around to see you.  The viguawa speaks as you near them.  "Listen, this scan is happening whether you guys want it to or not.  Your captain can send whoever he wants but you guys aren't going anywhere until we finish.  So unless you are comming along with the ship's crew manifest and cargo inventory you might as well turn around."

"Cadet Trevor Beltaine at your service, I've got the manifest and crew logs that you need. " He said holding up both data chips. "I'm not planning on getting in the way of your investigation. First off it's not my place and you know your job better than I ever would. I was asked by the captain to help things on his end, so I was hoping to get a copy of the data on those chips from you once you've scanned it over along with the paper work he needs to do. I can get him started on the paperwork and get both sides finished that much faster. Besides having someone trained help him through will mean a clearer file when you are done for your reports."

     The viguawa takes the chips from you and inserts them into a datapad.  "Cadet?  What of?"  The viguawa unslots the chips from the datapad and looks to begin reading through the information.  "Better not be one of those republic navy newbies here to get drunk and start a fight before shipping off.  Always more trouble than their worth."  Interrupted the isselessian on the right who had been watching you while you had talked to the captain.  "I'll have you know know that we'll throw you in holding just the same as everyone else dirtling."  The other isselessian puts his hand on his hand on his compatriot's shoulder.  "Hey, easy there Zatch.  It is too early in my day for a fight.  Listen cadet, we got a tip this ship could be smuggling goods.  That means we need to do a full scan.  If you want to make this go faster, get your captain to sign off on the scan acknowledgement so that he doesn't get fined and we can get started."

[info]Make a Knowledge: Bureaucracy check and a Knowledge: Law check[/info]

[info]Law + logic
[blockquote]Rolled 6d6 : 4, 4, 1, 3, 1, 3, total 16[/blockquote]
Bureaucracy +logic
[blockquote]Rolled 7d6 : 2, 1, 2, 6, 5, 5, 3, total 24[/blockquote][/info]

[info]Knowledge: Law
If only you had paid a little more attention in that search and seizure seminar back at the academy.

Knowledge: Bureaucracy
While you might not remember what the confederation legal code has to say about the search of a ship, you do remember that overriding the subjects refusal to a search requires a number of forms to be filled out on the part of the searching officers and submitted to the local judiciary for processing as a documentation formality that could take up to several hours depending on the availability of staff.  The searching officers themselves would not be able to conduct their search until they had both completed the paperwork and it has been processed unless an emergent crisis occurs such as a threat to the safety of the officers or Confederation citizens.
[/info]

"I'm a cadet of the Confederation Galactic Police and Investigation Divison,  If possible, I would like a copy of that data I gave you to help things along? I want what you got so there is no confused data between us," he said ignoring the name calling that sort of thing was better to just let flow off the back after all. He was already beginning to feel a sigh building up in the center of his chest, but mediating was the role of the police as anything else.

Moving back to where the captain stood he pulled up the paperwork laws that he could remember on his comm. "So, they sent me back here pretty set in stone about the scan. But here is the rub he said displaying the Bureaucracy and rules surrounding the red tape. To be fully open you can refuse.

Now I would not suggest it for a few reasons: First, the amount of red tape and paperwork you would be signing yourself up for would add several hours worth of work on both parties parts, and these guys are already in a bad mood. If they end up getting through the work before you get through your stuff they are going to burn you more then likely. Reason two is the suspicion if you refuse and leave you will be under more scrutiny and all kinds of legal and inter-department stuff will start ticking away. Plus, you won't be here to defend yourself they can drown the office in work then if you ever return to this station they will drop it on you like a bomb.

Now if you agree there is one that at least seems open to talking with me and I might be able to help. But in the end it's not my call." he said forwarding the types of forms that would be involved in either case. "So what do you think you want to do?"

[info]I'm working on a pithy cop acronym/nickname its needed for good slang and puns[/info]

     The captain frowns with a pensive look on his face.  He looks over the forms on his comlink for a second before responding.  "Look, I know you're a good kid so here's the thing; I got my ship used at a police auction and it happens to have a few modifications that appear to have slipped past the eye of the cops when they were giving it a look over.  Now I don't have any contraband or unregistered goods but these kinds of things don't look good on a full scan.  You've got to know how it would look if these guys find a couple of smuggling compartments hidden away.  I'll be lucky to get off this station today let alone not lose it to impound while they tear the ship apart.  I'm between a rock and a hard place here.  If i consent to the scan, chances are they will find those smuggling compartments and I'll lose my ship for the better part of a month.  If I refuse, I'll be stuck here, have to pay a fine, and miss my delivery time which will put me in the hole anyways when I have to sell off what I can at bargain bin prices.  What would you do in my situation?"  The captain shrugs with his hands out in a gesture of defeat.

[info]Make like 3-4 Computer+INT rolls separated out to see how long it takes you to find those legal codes on your comlink.[/info]

[info]Computer Rolls
one
[blockquote]Rolled 10d6 : 3, 5, 2, 4, 6, 5, 3, 2, 2, 5, total 37[/blockquote]
two
[blockquote]Rolled 10d6 : 4, 3, 3, 6, 6, 4, 6, 1, 2, 3, total 38[/blockquote]
three
[blockquote]Rolled 10d6 : 3, 3, 2, 2, 4, 5, 6, 5, 6, 3, total 39[/blockquote]
four
[blockquote]Rolled 10d6 : 5, 4, 5, 4, 2, 2, 2, 1, 4, 2, total 31[/blockquote]
[/info]


[info]Law Rolls
Things I want to know: what is the laws regarding ship would it have been legal for him to just fill/ weld shut those compartments making them inaccessible?

[blockquote]Rolled 6d6 : 3, 6, 3, 2, 6, 2, total 22[/blockquote]
[/info]

[info]Quick insight check to see if he's trying to lie to me about the holds being empty
Int (which i need to raise writing this to remind me) + Cha
[blockquote]Rolled 5d6 : 1, 3, 4, 1, 5, total 14[/blockquote]

[/info]

[info]Quick perception check to see what the room is like in general are crew members blocking important hallways or is it just me the captain and the harbor officials
perc
[blockquote]Rolled 6d6 : 5, 5, 5, 4, 5, 1, total 25[/blockquote]
[/info]

[info]Computer Checks
You are able to find the following on your walk back over to the captain: 
     A search can be canceled at any time if the searching party does not deem the search to be necesary or if the original grounds of the search are found to have been withdrawn or deemed erronius.  Searches require appropriate suspicion to be conducted, typically anonymous tips from unverified sources alone do not constitute grounds to conduct a search unless multiple tips with corroborating features or if there are cleared credentils attached to the anonymous tip.

Law  Check
Concelaed cargo compartments are not in themselves illegal but discovery of them can warrant the impounding of a starship for further investigation if the discovering officer deems it necessary.  Sealing smuggling compartments would not alter suspicions as crafty smugglers will completely seal off their hidden cargo compartments and disassemble the intervening hull and components to offload their cargo.  Filling in compartments with structrural elements or other materials usually makes them passable if identified at all (the filling components usually makes the compartments appear as normal parts of the ship's structure when put under scanning anyways).

Judge Intentions Check
You don't know if he is lying to you.

Perception Check
You are standing at the top of the loading ramp into the cargohold with the captain.  The crewmembers that were working in the cargo hold when you went there with the captain earlier are hanging out in the corner of the hold by the doors to the main corridor of the ship.  The docking bay is perhaps four times the width of The Brown Tide and twice the length, leaving plenty of open space.  The ground crew with the scanning equipment consists of ten workers idling by their collection of backpack styled scanning devices a number of paces away from the three officials who are huddled up at the bottom of the cargo bay loading ramp.  As you look the area over one of the isselessians (the one that called you a dirtling) breaks from the huddle and begins making his way up the ramp towards you and the captain.
[/info]

The isselessian walks up the ramp and calls out halfway.  "Hey cadet we need to talk.  You..."  He points to the captain.  "Stay there and you..."  He points at you then pulls his thumb back to point over his shoulder to the other officials, finishing his command with a gesture rather than words. 

Trevor shrugs at the captain, "Sorry being called away I'll be right back." Making his way to the other officers, "you need my help with something?"

[info]can I get a quick description of what these guys generally look like I'm curious how colorful if at all they are XD[/info]

     The isselessians both have a similar dark brown pelt and you see they wear matching bracelets that would indicate they are from the same clan.  The one that called you over, Zatch apparently being his name from what the other called him, pulls himself up from the usual hunched posture to loom over you.  "What we need is you to explain what's going on here cadet.  This is some lizardshit for a guy that just got on the station."  He jabs a short clawtip into your chest.  "For fucks sake Zatch what's wrong with you?  I'm too hung over for this shit right now."  Interrrupts the other isselessian who is, judging by the occasional gray hairs in his pelt and the timber of his voice is, older than the other.  "Look cadet, we got your scan request but we also got an anonymous tip that this ship could be trying to smuggle goods.  So what's going on here?  I'm Gando of clan Cathawk by the way and this..."  He motions to the other isselessian.  "Is Zatch, also of clan Cathawk.  I guess it seems like a poor time to say but welcome to the service.`"  The viguawa, a dark grey feathered coat up to an iridecscant blue plumage, speaks up from looking at his datapad.  Pointing his heron-like head towerds you.  "What smuggled goods are they transporting?  It would help our search if we already know what we're looking for."  He waves his datapad.  "Instead of going through their entire manifest and scanning the whole ship.  Could save everyone here a whole lot of time."

[info]quick question why am i on this ship and not some public transport. As a cadet I imagine some costs for this sort of move is covered at least bare bones costs. So why did I take this sketchy ship in the first place? Was it just to get my car over or was it the only one going to this station or is this what was payed for to get me here to cut costs?[/info]

  [info]Short answer: it was the cheapest ride that also allowed for you yo ship all your personal belongings

Long answer: there isn't really such a thing as public interstellar travel.  While plenty of planets and stations have public transit systems, these rarely extend services beyond the specific planet/station and at most cover transportation withing a star system.  You could have hitched a ride on a Naval Police ship for free but in doing so you would still need to ship the bulk of your gear and car separately as you would have only been allowed to personally carry what would fit in a footlocker.  The size of your car is just large enough to prevent you from taking most other commercial travel options and likely would have required you to enlist the services of some free merchant regardless of if you chose to accompany your belongings or not.  Travel by hitching a ride on merchant vessels is a common enough practice for those that don't want to/can't shell out the credits for a commercial transportation service.
     Presumably, your character judged this ride to be above board and affordable enough of an option to enlist its services.  Apparently, not above board enough to preclude the caution of asking for a scan of your belongings though.[/info]

"agreed," said Trevor after a moment. "Hey Gando can we talk over there for a moment?" he asked nodding off to a corner at the front of the cargo bay. I have a few questions and all of us huddling like this is bound to make people nervous."

     The isselessian arches his brow a little at your request and pauses for a moment.  "Okay, sure cadet."  He gives Zatch a hard look.  "Whatever your deal is get over it and for fucks sake don't shoot anyone."  He turns and waves you along to the corner.  You arrive at the corner of the docking bay, an empty spot except for a dusty emergency alarm and communications console built into the wall.  "Alright, here we are cadet.  We're now lurking in the corner instead of menacing a possible smuggler.  I know you're fresh out of the academy but you've got to know the advantage we have in keeping the pressure up on this captain.  If you weren't acting as a go between we would probably have cracked him open like a buzzard egg by now."

"look, I couldn't sleep at night with the specter of this hanging over me if he really is smuggling something bad. Now he strikes me as not the type of guy to do that, but I need my beauty rest so I'd rather you get that scan and prove me right then let it go unanswered."  Trevor said running his hands through his hair as he could feel his own patience wearing thin. "But I worry that if we burn what good will we have we're putting evidence and or a crew's livelihood at risk."

"Now I have information that will force him to hand the entire ship over to you on a technicality, but the additional paperwork and man hours gives far to much time for things to go sideways. So I have a suggestion for a compromise you and Zatch agree not to repo his ship and in exchange the captain cooperates fully with the scan. Now if the captain refuses well then he's made his own fate."

"I don't think its the worst thing to bring common sense into a discussion of the law. You seem the type of guy who has been around long enough to understand that the law cares about both the law itself and the principals of those enforcing it in order to get things done well. So what do you say think its worth a shot? I'm going to give the information to you regardless I just would rather things work out without people being drug off in handcuffs if at all possible."

[info]Quick common sense check,
when cops suspect someone of smuggling enough to do this normally they have a whole team of people. And walking into a theoretical smugglers den with only two people seems dangerous if its true. So am I right in assuming there are probably more harbor officers waiting outside for the green light to come in? Or is this all done with robots at this point? [/info]

     The isselessian listens to your offer, arms folded with one hand scratching his chin as he does so.  He takes a minute to respond after you finish.  "So what you're saying is that he's guilty of something but you won't say what and whatever it is isn't as bad as smuggling but still will hand his ship over to us.  What else aren't you telling me cadet?  You asked for a scan of your belongings but you're still covering for these guys."  He curves his long neck to look back at the ship and his partner and the trade council agent still hanging out at the loading ramp.  "I'll be honest cadet this whole thing is looking off and you're not in a good spot.  Zatch had a point when he said this isn't a good start to your time on the station." 

[info]     The need for additional personelle would depend on the estimated need.  If there is only a handful of 'probably' unarmed perps, or if the arrest targets aren't expected to make a violent escape then there isn't much percieved need to bring backup.  From a regulations perspective, it is advised that whenever an officer is expecting to encounter any possible armed resistance they should call for additional backup to ounumber the target by at least 50%.  This is rarely ever pracitcal and is usually reserved for heavily armed or numerous adversaries.  Keep in mind, officers are permitted to 'shoot first and ask questions later' if they belive they are in danger.
     Similarly, the use of drones as shock troops/cannon fodder/to round up perps depends more on the local security force's access to riggers and drones.  While there are some situations where this is more common (very violent breaches into holdout positions for example, where they are used as expected casualties/expenses), the use of drones tends to be more common for more mundane needs such as traffic duty and even then usually restricted to very safe locations where offenders will actually obey autonomous drones instead of outright bashing them with the nearest blunt object.  This is done as a cost saving measure (most police sevices have long since given up on trying to use drones in mid-level risk situations... that's your job afterall).[/info]

"Like you said I asked for the scan because I felt something was off, but I don't want to ruin people's life on my gut feeling without facts it's our job to have the burden of proof before making an arrest for a reason. Even more so, I don't like the fact that me doing my job and bringing this information to you the moment I found out about it is being seen as shady. All I'm saying is that there is a current risk since the captain is uncooperative that we could miss something, and you pushing that risk seems short-sighted. So instead of repoing his ship because he bought a used ship with unlisted compartments, now, we could not only get the scan we need but also make sure that the crew won't screw us in the process if we use a bit of tact, and if those rumors really are fake then its a win for both sides and if you do find the smallest evidence of actual smuggling then hit him with the entire manual."

I know what It's like to have to scrap your way up from nothing working with what you have that's why I got into this job in the first place. to make sure that everyday people are safe and can live there lives. My loyalty to the job is not the thing under review here if you have a problem with me you have channels to complain but I want to do my job just as much as you do. So what its going to be? Are we going to drag them off by force and possibly lose not only evidence but useful contacts, or are we going to give them a chance for a carrot and try to make sure that today ends with all angles covered?"

[info]roll negotiation
Cha +negotation
[blockquote]Rolled 8d6 : 2, 3, 4, 5, 3, 6, 6, 6, total 35[/blockquote]
[/info]

[info]spending 1 edge rerolling 6s
[blockquote]Rolled 3d6 : 4, 1, 4, total 9[/blockquote]
[/info]

     Gando's expression remains carefully neutral as he listens to your response.  "Okay cadet, I still have a lot of questions but if you think you can get him to fold then show your stuff but you only get one chance.  If the next time you walk down that ramp you don't have something then we go to the judiciary and everyone's day gets complicated." 

Nodding he broke away from Gando and went to look for the captain trying his best to ready himself for what was to come next. This would be his first real moment where he was representing authority outside of training, Though he had already gotten past the hard stuff now all he had to do was give the Captain his choices. The key thing for Trevor was just making sure that something didn't go wrong in terms of paperwork after this. He might end up in some heat but this way he could at least validate his suspicions and make sure that the customs team did not get into hot water without realizing it.

     You are able to find the captain still in the cargo bay.  He is waiting near the doors to the main coridor of the ship with the three crewmembers that were working in the cargo bay.  The captain and one of the other crew members are taking breaths from vaporizers, exhaling out quicly disperising clouds that nonetheless leave a faint chemical tang to the air around them.  The captian has a weary expression on his face as his gaze seems to absentminedly look through the cargohold while deckhands' expression is one of irritation.  None of them notice you as you approach and you are able to cath part of their conversation, which they don't seem to be making any effort to conceal.
     "Hey if we're stuck on this station we better be getting paid." Says one of the crew members.  A big man, possibly a type B judging by his muscular bulk, with plenty of mismatched tattoos.  "Look, you know how it is.  Everyone will get paid, even if I have to dump the cargo on Barag'ho.  I haven't stiffed you guys before and I don't plan on starting.  If you want to jump ship to find another captain, you can do that too but I'm not tracking you down to deliver your cut if you want it in chips."  Explains the captain, a tinge of exhaustion in his voice.  As you get closer, one of the deckhands notices you and tugs his head in your direction.  The deckhand that was talking to the captain appears to have had more to say but clams up at the signal from his crewmate and joins his comrades in giving you a thoroughly dispassionate look.  The captain, seeing the signals as well turns to look at you.  "Hey there greenhorn, sorry about these guys.  Everyone's getting antsy with all the commotion."  He says as he fails to hide his fatigue behind an more upbeat look.

[info]Quick memory test (LOG + WIL) to see if you can remember everyone's names.[/info]

[info]memory
[blockquote]Rolled 5d6 : 4, 1, 6, 1, 4, total 16[/blockquote]
[/info]

[info]You remember the tatooed deckhand's name as Jeanpierre, a surly man that didn't make much conversation with you throughout the trip.  The other deckhands were Francis, distingushable by the cyberarm he got after a cargo crate crushed his original, and Luke who was sitting back and watching the conversation while he dragged on a vaporizer.[/info]

"Do you want to talk in front of the guys or alone Captain? I managed to get you good news but I doubt it is what you want to hear at the moment." Trevor said trying his best to both keep a professional demeanor and yet keep his body language open and compassionate. The key in situations like this was to keep the air moving. Don't let anyone back you into a corner and keep an eye on all the exits just in case things went bad.

     The captain takes a quick look at the deckhands before looking back at you.  "How's about we take this elsewhere?"  He looks back at the deckhands.  "You guys sit tight and don't worry, everything is going to be alright.  Everyone is going to get paid and we can all take a break when we get the reactor cleaned out."  He turns around to head for the doors to the main corridor of the ship.  "We can talk on the bridge.  Place should be empty right about now."  He sticks the vaporizer his mouth and takes another puff.  "Sorry about the guys going cold on you.  It's been a while since we have been able to get a break and everyone is getting a bit worn.  This whole thing may have just pushed them a bit over the edge.  Since we're dropping a good amount of cargo off at Jerrus 5 everyone is looking forward to payday...  At least that's the plan, not going to work out if we can't get out of here soon."

keeping his back to the exit he frowned as he heard the inconsistency about how much time they actually had, "Well like I said I have good news just probably not what you want to hear. I stuck my neck out and got them to agree not to impound your ship for having illicit compartments as long as you submit to a full scan to make sure you are not carrying any serious illegal goods. Refusing at this point is not an option or they will simply repo your ship and tear it apart at their leisure." He paused letting it sink.

"Besides, you have more time then what you are letting on I know because I plotted the course through the Tentacles for you. You were planning on going to the same destination and would have gone the long way if I hadn't been here, so surely two hours can be accounted for even less if you get them started immediately."

[info]Make a Negotiation test with +2[/info]

[info]
Cha+ Neg +2
[blockquote]Rolled 10d6 : 3, 1, 6, 1, 5, 5, 3, 6, 3, 2, total 35[/blockquote]
[/info]

[info]last edge for the day[
[blockquote]Rolled 6d6 : 2, 1, 3, 5, 6, 6, total 23[/blockquote]
/info]

[info]7 total[/info]

     The captain gives you a despondent look.  "You don't trust me do you greenhorn?  Guess it comes with the territory."  He sticks his vaporizer back in his pocket.  "You can let the officers know they can go ahead with their scan.  I need to let my crew know whats going on, give them some shoreleave for the next couple of hours while the scan happens.  No sense in letting them stay cooped up in the ship."  By now your stroll has brought you back to the cramped bridge and the captain throws himself into his chair.  "I'll give you a bit of a head start to get your stuff unloaded so you can get out of here.  I don't think the crew will take the news that well so I don't want a cargo crate 'accidentally' falling on your ride."  He puntuated his statement with fingers curled into airquotes before oulling his comlink out of his pocket.  "I'm going to need to see if I can pick up some additional cargo to try and make up for losing that deal on the fuel conduit.  Might be able to fit something in that's small but valuable."  He spins slowly in his chair as he looks down at his comlink. 

Taking what he could get and leave well enough alone Trevor thought it best to leave the search to the professionals that were waiting for him. Taking the captain's advice he did one final inventory to make sure he had everything he had brought with him and then went into the cargo hold. He got everything in his car ready for a quick getaway and then went to find Gando with the good news. "He agreed to the deal and has permitted the scan you are free to go about your work. If you need me for anything like a scan of my car my commlink is on file. So would it be all right if I get going I have some more stuff to do today. "

     Gando waves at you as you approach, leaving Zatch to talk to the driver of a truck parked just inide the exit of the docking bay.  "Glad to hear it.  While you were in there I called in to headquarters to check out your credentials and they gave me your arrival instructions.  You are ordered to report to the Block 7 security station for orientation.  The station's navigation grid can take you there.  If you roll your vehicle out here we can scan it and send you on your way."  He whistles and waves an arm at the scanning crew still lounging with their equipment and they start to mill about shouldering thier gear. 

Trevor nodded and got behind the wheel. So this was the kind of welcome the station had given him at least it meant that life would never be boring while he was on the force. Pulling his car into the signified spot to be scanned he wondered just what would be in store for him once he got into the office. Tapping through the grid system for the location of the security station cueing it up as his next generation.

     Two of the scanners wave their sensors across your vehicle and after a few moments one of them, a dalz'hu, says "Alright, looks good, no anomalies detected."  Gando comes over to your window and puts his hands on the roof of your car.  "OK cadet, looks like you're in the clear.  Sorry I pressed you hard earlier.  Hopefully, you'll see why pretty soon.  A word of advice before you go: watch yourself out there.  I know this ship came from the solarian core worlds and if there is one thing I've learned about you solarians it's that you've got it pretty easy out there.  Well this isn't the Solarian Republic and if you are gonna survive out here, you're going to need to make sure you know someone has your back."  He point over to Zatch, who continues to menace the crew of The Brown Tide from the bottom of the cargo ramp.  "You see that asshole over there?  He's a pain in my nuts but I know that if the shit goes down he'll have my back, and not just because he's clan."  He pats the roof of your car.  "So good luck cadet.  Hopefully next time we meet it's under different circumstances"

"I mean all things said and done it could have gone much worse, but thanks for the advice. I'll always do my best to protect the people that are relying on me and it is good to know there are people like you are willing to do the same." He said offering a hand for a handshake. "Hopefully all days at work go this smoothly and I wish you happy hunting in the future. Finishing the last of his goodbyes quickly he was off to face the rest of his future on the Blue light station

Gando takes your hand and gives it a quick shake before sending you along out the docking bay's doors.  The station's navigation grid pilots your car out into the wide multi-laned street along which various cargo and passenger vehicles speed.  Joining the stream of goods and people, your car accelerates to a swift clip.  Overhead, the occasional window lets you watch as you draw closer to the body of the station and the end of the docking spar.  As you ride along, your comlink notifies you of a message from Drake.


[okay]>>Drake:  Hey roommate, saw your comcode come up.  Hope your trip went well.  I've got to get on patrol so no time for a real chat right now.  Let's do dinner if you have the time tonight, welcome you to the station.  I know a great barbecue place.[/okay]
[info]You regain a point of edge[/info]

Finishing the last bits of preparation he needed for the station he saw the message and wrote back
[okay]
>> Trevor: You're on I'll even pay for the first few rounds of food to make sure you can make it big man. See you then if I can just send me an address.
[/okay]

After a short moment you receive Drake's response.

[okay]>>Drake:  Alright, see you there.  The place is called Gro'bu's Meat Palace.[/okay]A few minutes later your car's navigation system chimes in: "Now leaving Docking Spar 6 and entering Station Hub."  With the end of the notification your car sweeps up a ramp and a brief sensation of vertigo ripples through your body before your vehicle emerges into the main hub of the station.  Inside the giant cylinder, you are exposed to the glimmering cityscape folded in upon itself in a dizzying display of glowing towers both rising from below you and descending from above, some seeming to be almost tall enough to run into their counterparts ascending from the other side of the station.  Ahead see the largest towers illuminated by the blue glow of the nebula visible beyond them through a vast viewing window capping the end of the cylinder.  That is, until your car takes a few more sweeping curves to make a 180 and head in the other direction. 
     Now ahead of you you notice a gradual decrease in the height of the towers and a dimmer glow.  As your car speeds down the thoroughfare you notice the vehicles taking on a more worn appearance.  You hear a roar as a flock of motorcycles climbs a ramp to drive alongside you.  The motley crew of human bikers in the most punkish of riding leathers quickly flows around your car and one of them drives up to less than a third of a meter from your door, clearly having disabled their grid navigation, before giving you the finger and accelerating with the rest of the gang to pass beyond you with shouts and hoots.
     It is not long after the roar of the biker's engines fade that your car takes an exit ramp to descend down into the sea of towers, now only ten to fifteen stories above the road you have been following.  Your car slows down considerably as you come down to the lowest levels, perhaps close to the superstructure of the station itself, and are faced with streets crowded with other vehicles.  The lighting takes on a dimmer tone, while not really dark by any stretch of the imagination, the light is provided entirely by the glow of lights inside the towers you pass and the abundance of physical advertisements reminding you of night in one of the old metropoli of Earth.  Along the street, you see wide sidewalks crowded with pedestrians of all the common Confederation species all going about their business.
     Finally, you reach your destination.  The navigation system chimes in with a "Now arriving at Block 7 security office" and rolls up to one of the towers, piloting to and intake tunnel where it is stopped in front of a security barricade.  A dalz'hu sitting in a booth next to the barricade gets up from his seat and walks out to along your driver's seat.  "Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to clear this driveway.  It's for station security personnel and business only unless you have an appointment."

[info]I don't know how I feel about the name Trevor do you like Shane better? And will we start a new thread when the beginning chapter ends I don't want to fix the karma I need to spend till then.[/info]

He watched the city pass by him in awe. As he moved deeper and deeper into the city's underbelly he was both excited and concerned. It meant that he would have to be on his game from day one, but at the same time a department in this type of area surely needed the manpower and it was perhaps where he had the most experience and could make the most difference. He knew he had managed to find a nice middle-class apartment not more then a short car ride away from the station. So there must have been a reasonable pocket somewhere and once he got the lay of the land he would be able to judge things better.

But as the bikers past, he was glad that he had saved up his money during school for his first place and splurged for a reasonable security for things like his car and doors. As he pulled up to the station he did his best to surprise the duel feelings that he was a child on Christmas and at the same time wanting to vomit from stress. Once the car stopped he rolled down the window and waited for the guard to come forward. "Yeah sorry man, I should be expected I'm the newbie that's taking the open post here today. My name is Shane Beltane. SIN # *************. Sorry if I'm late I had a hang up at the docks."

     The guard's eyes lose focus for a second in the telltale fashion of someone looking at information through a DNI and they give you a smile.  "Ah yeah I see you.  Welcome to the service.  You can drive up to the visitor's parking for now until facilities management gets a chance to register your vehicle.  Report to the Block security chief's office for the rest of your assignment.  Its pretty easy to find, just take the elevator up to the top floor."  He pulls a comlink out of his armored vest and taps the screen a few times  "I've tagged you with a temporary ARO to get you facility access so you should be able to get where you need to go."  His gaze flickers for a brief instant and the security gate descends down into the driveway to let you pass.  "Welcome to Block 7 cadet.  Don't die out there."  He gives you a wink and a nod and steps back into his booth.

[info]Yeah feel free to make any changes to your character that you want before the start of the next chapter.  There will be a new thread for each chapter.  As a heads up, in case it wasn't already implied when we talked about it earlier, I am waiving any training time for karma spent in the time between the first and second chapter for the purpose of making sure your character is in a condition that you feel is satisfactory to truly start the game.[/info]

"Thanks for the help man!" He said with a sort wave as he pulled in seeing the various bits of graffiti and tags that had been scrawled on the outer concrete walls. Finally finding a spot in the visitor's parking that was not filled with some kind of debris or trash. Making sure things were locked before heading into the main entrance.

He quickly scoped out the main office of the security block taking in the place that was going to be his life for the next year at a minimum before walking up to the officer at the front desk, "HI I'm Shane Beltane can you point me to the Chief's office?"

[info]
Can i get a quick description of the space and the ambiance are we talking mad max one or are we talking something like new york from castle or Flash?
[/info]

     The security station, while not dirty, seems to have seen better days.  The occasional graffiti tag on the lower level plascrete walls giving way after several floors to vast windows in which you can see security officers milling about before you enter the garage.  Fortunately, the visitor parking is quite clean and without debris or much in the way of visitors for that matter.  You have no problems finding a parking spot just a few spaces away from the visitor's entrance.  Going through the doors you find yourself in a busy entry hall as security officers mill about heading to and from elevators off to the side and an open portal in back with a sign overhead identifying it as the garage.  The entryway is well lit by lighting panels in the walls and high ceiling, clean, and well maintained and you see small cleaning drones zipping around between the security personnel.  You're unsure if the cleanliness is going to be similar beyond the entrance or if its only cleaned to impress the first glance but the polished plascrete floor and metallic walls of the large open hall gives you a feeling of being worn but well maintained.
     You are separated from the rest of the hall by a waist high barricade funneling you to scanning arches on either side of a desk at which is seated an isselessian idly looking at his comlink when you walk in.  He looks up at you with a look of almost surprise at anyone coming in through the door.  He flips down a visor that was sitting on top of his head and looks you over.  "Oh, new guy."  Just head through to the elevators, that ARO should get the elevators to take you there automatically.  He swivels around in his chair and waves you along before stopping for a second.  "You are unarmed right?  If these things go off everyone around is supposed to react and trust me, you don't want to be the new guy that made everyone late to get on patrol or go home on your first day."  He nods over to the security officers and you realize that it's 7:30 AM and they are changing shifts for the morning. 

"I don't believe I have anything you could classify as a weapon on me. Thanks for the heads up though." He said with a wave moving through the scanner closing his eyes for half a moment knowing that he did not even have a knife on him that could set off the alarm before moving towards the elevator. Hitting the button and entering the lift.

     "Just making sure.  Lotta guys carry a side piece."  He once again motions you along and sits back down at the desk to resume his idling, his eyes firmly back on his comlink as you walk through the scanners towards the elevators.  You get on the elevator with several other officers who seem to do their best to avoid any conversation with the look of someone who has just spent the whole night awake.  After a few floors they all get off at once onto a floor where you see signage for locker rooms leaving you alone in the suddenly spacious elevator.  The elevator continues upwards until it finally stops and the doors open.  The floor you step out on to is impeccably cleaned.  A polished floor of either real stone or a good lookalike stretches down the short hallway of frosted glass you are presented with.  To the left is a sign labeling a doorway as "Administrative Secratary's Office"  is inscribed into the glass overhead.  To the right the glass is transparent to reveal a conference room with a circular table dominating the middle of the room.  And finally, ahead the doorway is labeled with "Section Security Chief Glonshar."

Walking out of the elevator with purpose he went up to the security chief's door and knocked. Shane kept his left hand clenched; the ride up had made the nerves begin to settle in and he didn't want to seem nervous in front of the boss before he even started on the job. The weight of a good first impression weighed heavy on him while he waited for a response.

     You hear "enter" barked out from the other side of the door just before it opens on its own.  On the other side of the door you are greeted by a very large office.  To either side are several display cases and holographic displays which seem to be showing various reports and mugshots.  Ahead, a large desk stands against a backdrop of a full-wall window showing the glowing buildings outside.  Sitting at the desk and pounding away at a console interface is a large ehrbu, apparently one that had undergone the augmentation which allows one of his species to live outside of the aquatic environments they call home.  To the left of the desk stands a vibrant red coral formation reaching up to the ceiling on a squat table, while off to the right of the desk, a large table with several chairs arranged around it is occupied by a human sitting and fiddling about with his comlink, a drink in one hand.  The ehrbu, probably Section Security Chief Glonshar, barely flicks his gaze over to you for an instant as he continues his work.  "Hey Lang, your mewling pup seems to have arrived."  The human, apparently Lang stands up and waves you over while he pockets his comlink and straightens out his armored vest and downs whatever was in the glass before setting it on the table with the set it matches.

"Shane Beltaine reporting for registration," he said with a half-cocked smile before turning serious before the two men.  He walked into the room before the two men," Apologizes Chief for being behind schedule, it turns out getting onto the station with a car was more difficult than I thought it would be. I'll have a report on your desk with the proper information on your desk by the morning in case something comes of it."

Turning to Lang, "I've been told I'm a bit of a handful at the best of times, but I learn fast so I look forward to working together." he held out a hand brightly to shake while studying just what kind of demeanor this precinct had. If assumedly high ranking officers were just allowed to lounge in the Chief's office with a drink while they waited instead of doing some kind of busy work at his desk at this hour. It either made him very happy this was his first assignment or slightly afraid. But nothing good came from snap judgments the best thing he could do was start with the best foot he could and let experience tell him what was true or not."

     The chief smiles with a toothy, if not slightly unnerving, ehrbu grin of rows and rows of teeth.  "See Lang?  Paperwork!  On my desk!  Maybe he should be your training officer."  The ehrbu chuckles slightly as he stands from his seat.  "OK, lets get this over with shall we."  He tugs out the hem of his dress uniform and straightens the metal and glass collar full of bubbling liquid around his neck.  He corrects his posture and taps a button on his console.  "This is Security Section Chief Glonshar of Confederation Outpost 17892 Block 7 presiding over the activation of Shane Beltaine."  He points to officer Lang who responds.  "Sergent first grade Stephen Lang witnessing."  Without skipping a beat Glonshar continues.  "Under the authority invested in me by my post as an officer of the Confederation Police Service Detecting Operations and General Security Division, I hereby promote Cadet Beltaine to the rank of officer third grade."  He pulls out a blue metal badge from his desk and presents it to Shane.  "Congratulations Officer Beltaine."  Lang starts to clap.

"Thank You, Chief, I'll do my best to be worthy of the badge." After a pause to soak in the fact that even if only in name; he was a real officer of the law. He then continued, "So where do you want me to start? I'm to ride along with any patrols you have I imagine?" He looked to Lang, "Or is there already desk work I should be aware of?"

     The chief sits back down in his chair and begins to once again tap away at his console.  "Officer Lang here is going to be your training officer for your first week.  Today he will walk you through the station and get you set up here before taking you out to see your beat.  Lang here can see to any other question you might have.  Now if you don't mind, the bureaucrats need their due."  At this the chief waves you off towards the door, his gaze never leaving the screen before him. 
     "Come on newbie, it's time to learn the ropes."  Says Lang as he starts to make his way to the door.  "I guess I should introduce myself though, huh?  Name's Steven Lang, you can call me whatever you want but if the brass is around Sergent is probably a wise choice.  Where are you from?"  Lang speaks as he walks, making his way to the elevator where he presses the button before turning around to point at the door marked "Administrative Secretary's Office."  "That's the admin secretary's office, they are in charge of making sure the brass are in the right place.  Not sure if you'll ever need to talk to them unless you're in trouble and get called up the chain.  So hopefully this is all you ever hear of them.  If not... well try and get on Sharna's good side.  She likes real chocolate but can spot the synthetic stuff without even tasting it and you don't want to get on the bad side of a bagooran lady."

Shane did the best he could to take mental note of everything that the sergeant was saying about his new office; with special attention to the tips and tricks of the tiny intricacies of daily life. He almost didn't hear the question about where he was from right away as it took him a minute to respond. "I'm from the Sol system Serg though don't let that fool you if you are expecting a spoiled rich kid everyone is going to be very disappointed," he said with a rye smile. Now that Lang was standing so close in the elevator he could more easily judge the man how he held himself and how he moved without seeming creepy or overly close.

[info]quick physical description of lang please along with how he is holding himself.[/info]

[info]Please make a Perception + INT [Mental] test[/info]

[info]
Int 3 + Perception 2 +1 Perceptive
[blockquote]Rolled 6d6 : 1, 2, 5, 6, 5, 1, total 20[/blockquote][/info]

     The Sergent is an older Caucasian man with a well weathered face and a short cropped salt and pepper haircut.  His eyes are brown but on closer inspection you are able to note the subtle artificial lines that would indicate them to be cyberware.  He looks to be quite fit despite being somewhere later in his fifth decade of life from what you can tell by his appearance, suggesting that he is likely a Type B genetic lineage.  He unzipped his armored vest while walking down the hall to let it hang in a more relaxed state and revealing a pack of cigarettes tucked away in one of the inner pockets as well as a second pistol that appears to be a firearm in a shoulder holster while his standard issue beam pistol hangs in its holster from his belt. 
     "Oh? Whereabouts did you grow up?  I'm from one of the older colonies, Shin Nippon if you've ever made it out of the Sol system.  At this point though I've lived  here on Bluelight longer.  Only ever been to the home system once on vacation, Not Earth though, hit the beaches of the martian lowlands.  Nice place."  He asks as he taps the elevator console.

[info]Perception
You notice a bulge in the small of his back and the odd way that his armored vest hangs as he turns to use the console that looks like a third firearm concealed from the casual observation.[/info]

"Most people laugh when I tell them," Shane said with a sigh as he followed behind taking note of the third firearm. "but its written in my file so if I refuse to tell you it's not hard to look up. I'm from San Francisco, though I'm not one of those rich sons looking to make a name for themselves. So don't look to me for any tabs to pay." He knew the looks he got when he said he was born in San Francisco the entire city was a marvel of high tech toys and a strange love of nature carried over from its 21st-century roots.

When silicon Valley became more silicon then Valley. Those who were able fled to cities like Seattle or San Francisco to actually live. San Francisco, in particular, was is known for its artists and purposeful maintaining of nature and its heritage along with the future made it a hub for the world over with its own branch of the Galactic Academy to boot. "I spent most of my time as a child at the Alcatraz Orphanage until I was old enough to go to school. So don't expect any kind of opera tickets or fine wine for the office gift exchange." Known as the Isle of misfit toys to the locals the idea of having a prison right off the shore of there homes rubbed residents the wrong way so they turned it into an orphanage for those who had enough status or circumstances to be taken care of by the nuns. Though no amount of refurbishing could remove the fact that it was still a prison.

[info]hopefully I didn't get this idea from something you wrote that's the setting documents that subconsciously made me think this was good. I can change it if thats the case.[/info]

     "San Fransisco not all the matrix ads put it up as eh?  I guess nothing ever is."  The elevator stops and Lang steps out into a darker hallway of the same polished plascrete floors as everywhere else but the walls are decorated by black matte metal panels.  You recognize the decor and the sign pointing towards the lockers to the left but Lang turns down towards the other end of the hall.  "Alright, this here is the logistics floor: home of the quartermaster, all his toys, and the lockers.  Time to get you your kit."  He makes the short walk to the end of the hallway where a large and heavy set of doors are labeled with "Armory."  The doors stand closed before Lang walks to the console next to them where he places his palm on a scanner.  The doors slide open after several solid clunking sounds to reveal a dalz'hu sitting at a desk drinking a beverage while they scroll through their comlink with a beam rifle strapped to his chest.  The guard glances up at you and his hand goes to the grip of his rifle but relaxes as Lang steps back into view.  Lang explains with a curt "new guy" and the guard nods you along and presses a control somewhere behind his desk to open a door to your left.  Walking through, you com to a large desk shielded by thick armored glass.  On the other side sits a viguawa, hunched over a disassembled weapon and tinkering away with a large optical device strapped over one of his eyes.  "This is quartermaster Whisperwing.  Whisperwing, this is the new officer.  Introduce yourself new guy."

"Heya, name's Shane glad to be working with you," he said walking closer to the glass to get a better look at what Whisperwing was putting together. "You like to take things apart and put them back together huh? What are you working on?" Anyone could see him gravitate towards Whisperwing's table and forget about their actual purpose for being their after a few seconds of watching the other man work from what he felt was a respectable distance as to not be looming. Aside from forensics, he spent most of his free time tinkering or making things to calm his mind in the dorm. He had forced his roommate more than once to be a model for costumes or art pieces with the promise of food at the end.

     The quartermaster looks up from his work on what appears to be a small drone.  "Standard pursuit drone, or at least it was.  Those asshats in in the autonomous policing division keep making unapproved and undocumented modifications to their equipment and then expect me to clean it all up when some punk makes a lucky potshot."  He slides the mass of electronics and vectored thrust systems to the side, pulls the optics suite off his head, and gets up from his bench to walk over to one of the numerous lockers behind him.  Opening up one of the lockers he pulls out a small plasteel crate and hefts it onto the desk.  Pulling up a datapad he slides it under the glass for you to pick up. "You are now being provided your standard policing equipment which contains the following: one standard armored vest with integrated communications suite, one standard issue mark VI beam pistol, two standard issue power packs for the preceding service weapon, one shock baton, one set of metal handcuffs, and one set of containment manacles."  The quartermaster rattles off the listing as he passes each piece under the glass.  After he passes the manacles to you he slides a sensor pad under the glass.  "Now, please place the appropriate appendage onto the scanner to note your acceptance of this equipment and register your biometrics to the station database.  By accepting this equipment, you are agreeing to NOT make any unsanctioned modifications you your equipment.  You will NOT interface any personal equipment into your communication suite.  If your equipment is damaged in the line of duty, return it to the logistics center for repair or replacement.  If you lose any of your equipment, it must be reported to the logistics department and your salary may be penalized for replacement.  If you require any additional equipment you must place a requisition order."  With that he slides the drone back to in front of himself and puts his optical device back on.  "Now, regarding transportation, you will need to go down to the service garage to check out a patrol vehicle with standard load-out for use each day, personal vehicles must registered for access to the officer parking and for use on patrol.  They'll let you know all about the liabilities associated with that when you get there.  Any questions?"

[info]You receive the following
1x Confederation Police Service Patrol Armor https://docs.google.com/document/d/1BpU4Ujya7icKgeCDi1REg7HX8eMWwndwAhNV7CvnbPU/edit#heading=h.mrmu7wupi1lo
1x Confederation Police Standard Issue Beam Pistol https://docs.google.com/document/d/1BpU4Ujya7icKgeCDi1REg7HX8eMWwndwAhNV7CvnbPU/edit#heading=h.2o190hkld19r
2x Beam Powerpack (Light Beam Pistol)
1x Stun Baton
1x Metal Handcuffs
1x Containment Manacles[/info]

"Actually yeah, I do have one or two questions," he said while placing his left hand on the panel to be registered. "I have some high-grade imaging contacts I would prefer to use the imaging software along with my comm-link; for duty use and record keeping, it makes it causes fewer problems in the long run. Would I fill out request forms with you to use that functionality or should I just turn it off? They still function well enough without the link for their main purpose, but I'm new and rather have proof if things go sideways."

[info]
the usual new named character perception check for Whisperwing
[blockquote]Rolled 6d6 : 5, 1, 4, 3, 4, 5, total 22[/blockquote][/info]

     You get a good look at the quartermaster as he picks up his tools and continues his work.  He appears older, probably in his second century of life or possibly even his third.  His plumage is a dark blue with a iridescent hue that has slightly faded with his age.  He's dressed in simple industrial work clothes rather than any police uniform and you don't see any service weapon on him.  Indeed, the only weapons you see in view are all partially disassembled or damaged as you get a better look at the various projects left out on the workbenches that are arranged in two rows that run down the middle of his rather spacious room.  On one bench you're pretty sure you see a beam rifle that has been shattered by some great force set alongside a beam pistol that appears to be partially melted, further back you see more heavy duty security doors that appear to lead off to other parts of the department.  His talons show plenty of calluses and the claws themselves are slightly chipped probably from the picking that he does at the internal working of the drone while he maneuvers his tools into different nooks and crannies.  Fine arcs of energy dance at the point of one of the devices he has stuck into the guts of the drone. 
     "Officially?  No personal weapons or electronics are allowed."  He answers continuing his work.  "Unofficially?  You give me whatever you want interfaced and I'll give them a look over.  If I don't see anything I don't like, you can interface them with your coms.  No guns though, too many issues when the trials come around and they find out you're packing extra heat.  Some people..."  He looks hard at the Sergent with irritation in his eyes.  "Might have devised some unsanctioned workarounds to this particular guideline but those are not a wise decision and you shouldn't listen to them.  Isn't that right officer Lang?"  He punctuates this last sentence with a cracking pop of his repair tools causing a small puff of smoke to wreath his beak.  The Sergent simply makes an innocent look, shrugs his shoulders and replies "I don"t know what you're talking about old man."

Shane raised an eyebrow before looking between the two other men questioningly and shrugged, "you don't have to worry about that with me. I'm not one for more than a pistol anyway if I can help it." he said choosing to ignore the obvious questions in the air. He dug into his back pocket and pulled out his contacts case open it so and then placed it on the counter in front of the glass wall, "I keep them on me out of habit if you want to take a look."

"Oh, before I forget does this armor fit under an armored jacket?" he said holding up the chest piece to himself for size.

     The old viguawa takes the contacts case.  "That depends on what kind of jacket.  If you have one of those tight clubbing affairs?  Probably not.  Most other jackets should work.  Plenty of guys wear something with a little more coverage over their vests on the beat.  As for these..."  He says holding the contacts case.  "I'll get these back to you tomorrow.  Hopefully you can see..."  He motions to the various projects underway.  "I have a lot of work to do.  Anything else you need me to look at while I'm at it?"

"I think that's everything that directly interfaces. Thanks for the help man." Shane said as he moved to his locker to finish setting up his biometrics

     After setting up your biometrics (getting your fingerprints and retinas scanned in and even a quick prick for DNA), you're shepherded back out of logistics and across to the other end of the floor's main hallway to the locker rooms.  With the Sergent showing you the showers and gym before coming to a room of lockers titled "Squad 6" where he gives you some time to change into your patrol gear.  After getting changed, he then takes you back to the elevator and down to another floor.  You're immediately greeted by a busy open floor filled with officers at desks and a number of detainees being processed. 
     "This is the bullpen.  Technically its titled as the justice administration and processing floor.  We're over here."  He leads you over to an area enclosed by cubicle height walls.  Several desks with computer consoles are arrayed along the sides.  "And this is you" continues Lang as he comes to a desk upon which sits a bone shaped chew toy and leash with your name on it.  "Bit of a joke on the part of the other guys it would seem.  Sorry they aren't here to administer it to you themselves.  Everyone is already on patrol.  The squad is put on patrol together for a full shift.  Later, your partner will be assigned at the start of each shift so you'll get plenty of chances to get to know everyone.  They keep our patrol routes  close enough together that usually we're our own backup.  Oh and there's a charger at each of the desks for your powerpacks.  Don't forget to keep those things charged.  Now, we'll just head on over to the lieutenant to introduce you to our immediate boss before we get your first day really started."
     He guides you to one of the offices lining the edges of the bullpen knocks and enters, ushering you in behind him.  The office is decently sized, nothing like the vast office of the chief above but enough room for a desk with a comfortable chair, two  chairs before it, and some limited walking room.  Sitting at the desk and working away on a console is the lieutenant.  A nameplate with Lieutenant Lizbeth Hall sits facing you.  The Sergent doesn't sit, remaining standing instead.  "Ok, and finally here is lieutenant Hall: our boss and the person who keeps us in line.  Boss, I give you the new recruit."

[info]Presumably you're changed into your patrol armor and the standard kit.  Anything you want to leave in your locker or carry on you in addition to your standard kit, just note it in your next post.[/info]

"Shane Beltaine reporting for duty ma'am," he said holding out his hand "it is a pleasure to be working with you." It was strange feeling the weight of his armor as he leaned over to shake his new bosses hand. While the trip over showed just how far away from home he was it was the weight of that armor that made him realize just how permanent this whole thing actually was. Though he wore the smile he had so well practiced ever since he was a child.

[info]
usual perception check for new named characters
[blockquote]Rolled 6d6 : 1, 3, 3, 1, 4, 4, total 16[/blockquote]
[/info]
[okay]
additional equipment
Shock gloves
lined coat
earbuds
commlink
2 stim pack 4s
[/okay]

     The lieutenant had a serious look on her strikingly attractive face.  She was human and judging by her flawless complexion, either very well groomed or a type A genetic lineage.  She was dressed in patrol armor which was either impeccably maintained or had seen very little action judging by the lack of scuff marks and wear.  The short sleeved fatigues she wears under her armored vest reveal the lower end of a glowing tattoo.  A tattoo which shows a little more of the neon pink skull as she leans forward, resting her elbows on her desk and interlacing her knuckles in front of her mouth.  "Welcome to the force officer Beltaine, I'm here to make sure the clock gets punched and the endless maw of bureaucracy gets fed so here's the ground rules: the Sergent here will make sure you survive the streets but don't take up any of his bad habits.  I expect you to have your reports in on time and your collars apprehended cleanly.  You make any fuckups, you report them to me immediately.  Do I make myself clear?"  She stares at you throughout the whole speech, not even acknowledging the presence of the Sergent beyond the brief mention of him in their spiel.

"Crystal captain," he said almost glad for the strictness. It reminded him of the nuns and teachers he knew back home. "I hope to be someone this precinct can be proud of. I honestly am one of those few odd balls who enjoy the paperwork as much as being out in the feild. Just let me know if something comes up in my fillings or anything like that and I'll see that it gets worked out."

     "Good.  The sergent will give you a tour of the habitation block today.  Not a normal patrol route, but it will orient you to the major districts and landmarks.  Don't let your guard down though.  We're a long way from the admin block here in number 7.  HTR takes a while to arrive so play it safe.  No heroics."  With this last statement she looks hard at the sergent with a look that apparently transcends species judging by how similar it was to the look of irritation that the quartermaster gave him.  Again, the sergent puts on a perfectly innocent expression in response to the stare.  "This isn't an action trid, it's a job.  Act like it."  With that statement which you're pretty sure wasn't directed at you,the lieutenant leans back in her chair and waves you along towards the door before returning to working on her console.  Sergent Lang ushers you along.
     "Alright time to saddle up!  The best part of the day in my opinion."  Exclaims the sergent the second the door to the lieutenant's office closes behind you.  "Down to the garage we go."  He takes a brisk pace heading back across the floor to the elevator.

"You are never driving my baby Sergeant. So I hope you have your own car." Shane smirked following behind to the garage. "I take it you have a bit of a reputation in the office? Anything I should be aware of before we are out in the field together?" Shane was known back home for being a bit of a troublemaker though the academy had taught him the need for stability and a set of rules that he can plan around and depend on.

     "Ha!  Not happening rookie.  I drive today and we're taking a patrol car.  When you are off the leash and get to drive you're free to take your personal vehicle as long as it get registered with the garage but until then no driving.  Though, I'd recommend against it for standard patrol.  You don't want to be the millionth and first rookie to get the precious car they spent their academy stipend on full of holes.  Call outs for new cases are fine though...  for the most part."  You emerge from the elevators back on the main entrance floor and make your way to the second garage entrance that you had seen earlier.
     Entering through the doors you find yourself assaulted by the smell of industrial lubricant and noise from tools and engines.  The garage is decently large with plenty of headroom but dimmer lighting than the rest of the station.  Spotlights are focused on vehicles in various states of repair.  Almost all of them are near identical wheeled cars, sturdily built but nevertheless showing signs of battle damage to differing degrees.  Dominating the back of the garage, you see an armored personnel carrier with what looks to be an entire side panel removed.  Sergent Lang walks over to an caged in area where there is a clerk sitting behind a desk similar to the quartermaster's upstairs.
     "Gurt, picking up a patrol car and a biokit."  Says the Sergent to the bagooran sitting behind the desk, walking up to the desk and slapping his hand down.  The bagooran slides his wheeled chair back to one of the lockers behind him and pulls out a small crate then returns and sets it down on the counter.  The bagooran then walks over to what appears to be a heavy safe, puts his hand on a biometric scanner, and then withdraws two  small inhalers.  "As usual, all emergency stimulants are for use against high threat suspects and not for recreational purposes.  Use must be logged and unused stimulants must be returned at the end of watch."  Comes from the bagooran in the absentminded voice of someone that has said that speech ten thousand times.  He then notices you and looks to Lang.  "New guy.  You know the drill new guy."  Responds Lang before the bagooran has a chance to ask the obvious question.