Cigarettes acquired.
“Thank you, doctor.” Into Ariel’s backpack they went, as secure a container as any. “I hope to be able to visit your room one day, doctor. So, please keep your health in mind.”
Moonstrike One’s long-awaited briefing was short, but full of surprises. Mission time! Though with wages like that, weren’t they more like mercenaries than your typical freedom fighter? That had to be the biggest deviation from the films. Even the well-funded rebels usually spent their money on equipment, not salaries and rewards. Ariel wouldn’t complain either way.
Another question popped into her head, and out of her mouth. “Why wouldn’t they take the shorter path?” Efficiency and speed determined shipping routes. No sane company or trader would go the long way around unless there was profit to be made, or if circumstances forced them to. There had to be a reason behind this. There were two possible approaches here: find out why the longer route was favoured, or find out why the shorter route was disfavoured. Push and pull factors. It was geography all over again.
Time to do some research.
Ariel had just booted up her omnitool — it was a little sluggish, what with the decoding and all going on — when a man came stumbling in.
Another…
…she had to admit that it was hardly a surprising situation for a rebel organisation. The war had left many with traumatic experiences, and such harmful substances were always free-flowing and affordable relief. ‘The addict is a product of their environment.’ If that was so, then Ariel could only try and change the environment. Already, significant neurological impairment could be seen in the man’s speech and motor skills: the way he was slurring and staggering, he could have passed for a stroke victim were it not for the bottle of alcohol in his hand. Which, Ariel would note, he was still holding on to even now. And, goodness, he was drinking—!
Fortunately, Trajan finally set the bottle down before Ariel could pry it away from him. At the rate he had been going, it wouldn’t have been long until he began vomiting, or blacking out, or vomiting after blacking out. She didn’t want to be the one trying to get stomach juice out of his trachea as he choked on regurgitated alcohol.
“Not another drop, mister.” Ariel confiscated the bottle too. In the meantime, it seemed that Seraphina had sent some promising leads over.
“Hmm. I’d say there’s potential.”
Ariel was hardly a shipping expert, but from what she could tell, there weren’t many compelling reasons to pick the currently most-popular route over the shorter one. Even if there were such pull factors, it would hardly reduce traffic to the near-zero levels seen with the Garden Route. There had to be a hard factor, forcing trade to the alternative route.
“It’s detective time. Thanks for the tip, Phi!”
A search of the Ascendancy’s hottest social media platforms for posts made in the vicinity of Maiden’s Reach unearthed a fall in the usual photographs of the planet’s famous flora and fauna uploaded by tourists and other leisure-seekers.
Instead, Ariel found several glamorous shots of space fleets and military might, with careful, perhaps professional-level framing and lighting. The surprising thing? These posts came from the local government’s official accounts. “Several of the Ascendancy of Man’s finest warships entered the orbit of Maiden’s Reach today, marking the beginning of poacher clearance operations in the sector. The public is warned to stay clear of the designated area until further notice,” said the caption. Succinct and authoritative in tone, with nothing revealing or OPSEC-violating — it was just PR, after all. A few conservationists had replied with enthusiasm and support. Either way, it seemed that the Ascendancy’s fleets had ramped up their presence there.
The local news didn’t offer much more in details, but they sufficed all the same as jumping points. Cross-referencing with government sites unearthed a notice to spacemen, which confirmed that a temporary no-fly zone around the area of the Garden Route had been in place for some time now. Enforceable by deadly force too. Unfortunately, the restriction wouldn’t be lifted any time soon.
And ye shall know the truth and the truth shall make you free. Time to present the results.
“I think I’ve found out why the Garden Route has been abandoned.” A swipe or two later, a holographic projection emerged from Ariel’s omnitool, showing off her findings. Sending down warships seemed excessive, but then again, rangers and poachers have been all but fighting small-scale wars since the 20th or 21st century. “It looks like the military has cordoned off part of it. Anti-poaching efforts, apparently. If we take the short path, we’d have to bluff, sneak, or fight our way past the government patrols. At least the pirates and poachers will keep their distance.”
The biggest factor at play here was speed. Moonstrike was racing against the Ascendancy to reach the crash site first. That was why there had so far been a near-unanimous consensus to ignore the longer route.
“If time is of the essence, would it be possible for the rebels on Plenty to help? They could remove Realist from the crash site before we arrive, and hide him someplace the Ascendancy doesn’t know of. Then they’d have to search the whole planet instead of simply beelining for the wreckage. It would buy us some time.”
Ariel had so far been invested in the business side of things, busying herself with preparations and research for their upcoming mission. It was quite a shame to miss out on all the fun and bonding going on all around the little meeting room. Seraphina seemed to be enjoying her head pats; maybe that would be a good way of thanking her for the intel later.
“Thank you, doctor.” Into Ariel’s backpack they went, as secure a container as any. “I hope to be able to visit your room one day, doctor. So, please keep your health in mind.”
Moonstrike One’s long-awaited briefing was short, but full of surprises. Mission time! Though with wages like that, weren’t they more like mercenaries than your typical freedom fighter? That had to be the biggest deviation from the films. Even the well-funded rebels usually spent their money on equipment, not salaries and rewards. Ariel wouldn’t complain either way.
Another question popped into her head, and out of her mouth. “Why wouldn’t they take the shorter path?” Efficiency and speed determined shipping routes. No sane company or trader would go the long way around unless there was profit to be made, or if circumstances forced them to. There had to be a reason behind this. There were two possible approaches here: find out why the longer route was favoured, or find out why the shorter route was disfavoured. Push and pull factors. It was geography all over again.
Time to do some research.
Ariel had just booted up her omnitool — it was a little sluggish, what with the decoding and all going on — when a man came stumbling in.
Another…
…she had to admit that it was hardly a surprising situation for a rebel organisation. The war had left many with traumatic experiences, and such harmful substances were always free-flowing and affordable relief. ‘The addict is a product of their environment.’ If that was so, then Ariel could only try and change the environment. Already, significant neurological impairment could be seen in the man’s speech and motor skills: the way he was slurring and staggering, he could have passed for a stroke victim were it not for the bottle of alcohol in his hand. Which, Ariel would note, he was still holding on to even now. And, goodness, he was drinking—!
Fortunately, Trajan finally set the bottle down before Ariel could pry it away from him. At the rate he had been going, it wouldn’t have been long until he began vomiting, or blacking out, or vomiting after blacking out. She didn’t want to be the one trying to get stomach juice out of his trachea as he choked on regurgitated alcohol.
“Not another drop, mister.” Ariel confiscated the bottle too. In the meantime, it seemed that Seraphina had sent some promising leads over.
“Hmm. I’d say there’s potential.”
Ariel was hardly a shipping expert, but from what she could tell, there weren’t many compelling reasons to pick the currently most-popular route over the shorter one. Even if there were such pull factors, it would hardly reduce traffic to the near-zero levels seen with the Garden Route. There had to be a hard factor, forcing trade to the alternative route.
“It’s detective time. Thanks for the tip, Phi!”
A search of the Ascendancy’s hottest social media platforms for posts made in the vicinity of Maiden’s Reach unearthed a fall in the usual photographs of the planet’s famous flora and fauna uploaded by tourists and other leisure-seekers.
Instead, Ariel found several glamorous shots of space fleets and military might, with careful, perhaps professional-level framing and lighting. The surprising thing? These posts came from the local government’s official accounts. “Several of the Ascendancy of Man’s finest warships entered the orbit of Maiden’s Reach today, marking the beginning of poacher clearance operations in the sector. The public is warned to stay clear of the designated area until further notice,” said the caption. Succinct and authoritative in tone, with nothing revealing or OPSEC-violating — it was just PR, after all. A few conservationists had replied with enthusiasm and support. Either way, it seemed that the Ascendancy’s fleets had ramped up their presence there.
The local news didn’t offer much more in details, but they sufficed all the same as jumping points. Cross-referencing with government sites unearthed a notice to spacemen, which confirmed that a temporary no-fly zone around the area of the Garden Route had been in place for some time now. Enforceable by deadly force too. Unfortunately, the restriction wouldn’t be lifted any time soon.
And ye shall know the truth and the truth shall make you free. Time to present the results.
“I think I’ve found out why the Garden Route has been abandoned.” A swipe or two later, a holographic projection emerged from Ariel’s omnitool, showing off her findings. Sending down warships seemed excessive, but then again, rangers and poachers have been all but fighting small-scale wars since the 20th or 21st century. “It looks like the military has cordoned off part of it. Anti-poaching efforts, apparently. If we take the short path, we’d have to bluff, sneak, or fight our way past the government patrols. At least the pirates and poachers will keep their distance.”
The biggest factor at play here was speed. Moonstrike was racing against the Ascendancy to reach the crash site first. That was why there had so far been a near-unanimous consensus to ignore the longer route.
“If time is of the essence, would it be possible for the rebels on Plenty to help? They could remove Realist from the crash site before we arrive, and hide him someplace the Ascendancy doesn’t know of. Then they’d have to search the whole planet instead of simply beelining for the wreckage. It would buy us some time.”
Ariel had so far been invested in the business side of things, busying herself with preparations and research for their upcoming mission. It was quite a shame to miss out on all the fun and bonding going on all around the little meeting room. Seraphina seemed to be enjoying her head pats; maybe that would be a good way of thanking her for the intel later.