Session 10: Everybody’s Got Ideas - kaseido/NeoTokyo GitHub Wiki

304 Bezos 1 Water

The team goes over their goals on the flight over. Zhukov can’t be killed at the ball, because he needs to open the spaceplane facility the next day. Also, Zhukov will easily recognize Lane. Do they send Markov in for intel? Lane thinks that if she’s right that Zhukov and the Crown Prince are in something together, they’ll be in a totally different category from the regular attendees. Rina wonders if the Crown Prince is a big enough fan to pull Markov into her entourage.

It’s after midnight before they land at Tereshkova Skyport – which could fit in the food court of Myatna-Nyseth Airport that the team left from. The team heads down the ladder to spot a glamorous woman in a white wraparound coat smoking a long thin cigarette. She’s leaning against a black hovercar that looks like it weighs more than Ruin Island.

It’s snowing lightly: the first time any of the team has seen the stuff.

Meanwhile cargo handlers are unloading your plane: seems Markov brought his own bike, a red motorcycle that looks like some sort of alien lobster.

The woman in the coat drops her cigarette on the tarmac and grinds it out viciously with the toe of her stiletto shoe, then walks over to you. She introduces herself as Crimson Frost – she’s got reservations for you at the foreign business hotel, the Slavyanskaya, along with your agenda for tomorrow. Scouting new talent for the Dome Demons – she was told that is the purpose of your visit, yes?

Markov is taking Moopsie on the Red Sonja, no arguments. The rest pile into the limo, including Crimson Frost. The driver is upfront alone behind bulletproof glass.

Lane asks for additional tickets. Rook leans over and pokes Lane urgently: “I don’t want to go to a fancy ball! I hate dresses!” Lane says she’ll have another role away from the ball. “We won’t buy a ticket for you, how’s that?” “I’m going to try to get a job as a cocktail waitress or something.” “We’ll see if we can get you in.”

Rina has been staring out the window at the snow, open-mouthed. “What?” She’s bundled up and wearing sunglasses at midnight.

Lane asks Frost, does she know if they’re still hiring for help at the ball: they’ve got extra pairs of hands. Frost tuts. “Amateurs. We will speak in morning.” Lane asks about clothes for the ball: “I will take you tomorrow.”

Rina: “Are you also a spy?”

“Yes. We will speak in morning.”

The team isn’t really the luxury hotel crowd, but they’re Koto City natives and know a low-midlevel corpo hotel when they see one. There are a lot of bulky guards in very fancy uniforms, though. Frost tells them they have a block of double rooms on the second floor.

Turns out each floor has its own concierge: theirs is a woman of about 400 seated at a desk under a cloud of cigarette smoke. The only things on the desk are box with buttons, which looks like it might be a communication device from 400 BC, a samovar, a bunch of glass teacups in metal holders on a tray – and a handgun about the size of the samovar.

She introduces herself as Miss Natalia and offers tea – with jam, and some sort of dry and tasteless ostensible cookie. Rina has a cup of mostly-cream: she’s fitting in!

“If you need anything in your rooms, just say it loud – we hear everything.” She cackles. Toothlessly. It’s horrifying. You’re strangely reminded of Flipper.

Turns out the rooms have a delightful view of – office buildings. Brightly lighted office buildings.

Rina engages in her favorite task: bug hunting. She finds the three obvious ones, and also the two non-obvious ones. She deactivates the obvious ones. She looks for the hotel net, but – there isn’t one. She sends a message to everyone’s agent: communicate like this for anything private.

She finds the Special Foreign Information Access Terminal, and sits on it 😊There’s local news and entertainment, and a city guide. There’s an opera rebroadcast: she puts it on the main screen and turns it way up. In the distance they can here Natalia singing along: she’s not bad! Rina records that for later. She looks through the local guide. It’s like being in data solitary confinement: “It’s like their brainwashing isn’t part of their media: there’s no subliminal anything in here!”

Lane suggests indoctrination might be cultural.

Rook asks if there’s escort service. There is one, for foreigners. Rook asks if they’re hiring, but Rina can’t do that from here.

Time to sleep: Rina tucks in on a chair, but with the opera on the TV.

Markov snores, and the women can hear him from down the hall.

In the morning, they check the news:

The Tsar’s Own Truth Morning News: “In other news, Dome Demons manager and native son Kolya Markov arrived last night with his own entourage, and is rumored to be recruiting – and perhaps seeking a local bride? Word is, he will be attending the Imperial Ball tomorrow night – without naming a plus one! Perhaps one of our noble maidens can lure the captivating Mr Markov back home! More on this breaking story as part of our ongoing Ball coverage, right here on The Tsar’s Own Truth!”

Rina approves of the human interest story of a young cadet rescuing a kitten from a tree and handing it back to a babushka.

The whole group tromps down to the lobby cafeteria. Breakfast is stunningly good; no ConBrands stuff, all fresh baked from ingredients!

Markov grouses heavily – but he has an idea: there’s no League rollerball team in Port Romanov, because they refuse to let the corpos in. But it’s super popular, especially with the young nobles. If word got out that he was hosting a game – and recruiting – that game could draw the kind of people who could get you closer to the royal family.

He goes on, if you can make a friend or two among the nobility, maybe you can get some good intel, or get snuck into the palace, or – something.

Rina asks if they can sell him off in marriage. He says he’d take the hit for the boss. She likes the idea of a game: maybe they can see if the police chief’s daughter really is any good. Lane says they should let people believe Markov is available. “Our very own Prince Charming, here to woo the ladies with murderball,” Rook says.

Crimson Frost swans into the cafeteria, this time in a, well, crimson pantsuit, dusting the snow off her ushanka. She collects them all up, and ushers them back into Lane’s room. She pulls a cylindrical device about the size of a soda can from her coat, twists it, and glowing lights come on. She sets it down on the rickety coffee table.

Rina checks out the device. It’s not a jammer – seems to be some sort of override. She checks the secret bugs: they’re not turned off, they’re feeding innocuous chatter in their own voices. Rina wants one! Frost says no, is proprietary technology of the Okhrana.

Frost sighs dramatically, and makes a production out of lighting a cigarette.

“While your TreeHouse – what a childish name – is paying me quite handsomely to act as your fixer for the next three days, you are probably too inexperienced with this part of the world to recognize the signs that I am Okhrana.

She, of course, pauses dramatically.

“Now – “ she raises one perfectly manicured finger. “Yes, we know you’re here to kill Zhukov, the entire planet knows. You’re only alive because certain parties have interests in, shall we say, outcomes not aligned with certain goals expressed by certain members of the Imperial Family.

“Do NOT mistake this for disloyalty to the throne. It has always been the position of the Okhrana that we serve the Tsar, and the Tsar’s best interests. Which sometimes may not accord with policies issued from the Imperial Offices.

“HOWEVER, we believe that His Imperial Majesty is being misled by people seeking to destroy our way of life for their own personal gain.

“Unfortunately, he happens to be related to those people.”

She sighs and takes a long drag on her cigarette, and blows smoke rings with a mournful expression.

“This is where you come in. You, you are here to kill Zhukov, or at least to destroy his power base – which is, as you have clearly discovered, here – in an alliance with the Crown Prince and –“ she sighs again, but this is a down-glancing sigh, not an up-glancing one – “Grand Duchess Martine.”

“We consider them to be acting against the best interests of the Throne. Additionally – “

She looks around dramatically, as if there might be Imperial agents under the wonky coffee table.

“The Tsarina is particularly interested in seeing Zhukov die soon after the ball, where her engagement to Zhukov is to be announced. That will take the Princess off the marriage market for three years of mourning and let her have something of a life. This is of little concern to us, but if we can tilt the balance of women’s power away from the Grand Duchess and to the Tsarina, that would be in Imperial – and Okhrana – interests.

“Can you affirm to me that our interests align in these matters?”

“We did not recognize all that, but now we understand, “ Lane says. “Do we?” Rook says. “Oh, fill us in about what that means,” Lane adds. Rina understands evil corporate foreigners coming in and trying to destroy everything: it happens to the cats.

“Now – “Frost stubs out the cigarette aggressively in an ashtray, rocking the coffee table. “Courtesy of the Okhrana’s Division of Industrial Counter-Espionage, I have resources available for your use.

“You –“ She points that manicured forefinger at Rina. “You are to be catnip, hm? You are to coincidentally encounter a member of the extended royal family this morning. Do bear in mind that she is the third most dangerous person in Port Romanov, unlike the head of the Okhrana or Field Marshal Alekseyev. Who is a big pussycat, by the way.” She shakes her head, she’s getting off track. “Not literally of course, not here. At any rate.”

Rina was so excited for a second, then her ears droop.

“Duchess Kira.” She flicks an image to your agents. “She has the brains of her mother, the Grand Duchess, the ruthlessness of the Crown Prince, and, through some strange mutation, soul.” She sighs, soulfully.

“ She is a known xenophile, and it will surprise no one if she takes a liking to you, kitten, and whisks you off on an adventure. Do exactly what she says.”

Rina would never do anything else, because she’s a good kitten! Of course!

Frost looks over at Moopsie: “You, pink one – what are your combat skills?”

“I’m a doctor. To cats.”

Profound, existential, deeply Russian sigh. She shakes her head. “Are any of you familiar with explosives, or poisons, or are an especially good shot?”

Rook is up on the explosives. Rina can destroy the files, too, but she needs access to the network. Frost says they have a backdoor into the facility.

“Currently, the site is guarded by Techtronika Security. Their primary concern is foreign industrial espionage: they are outstanding at detecting physical and digital intrusion.

“However, the morning of the Crown Prince’s visit, security will be handed off to Imperial Security, responsible for guarding the royal family.

“Their concern is domestic terrorists, and, since they are very good at their job, there really are no domestic terrorists. They will be prepared for the random swivel-eyed extremist with a gun, and hopefully not for an operation prepared by the Okhrana. We will be legitimately onsite, of course, and can arrange for your infiltration.

“We have resources which cannot be traced back to the Okhrana – and which may have been obtained from swivel-eyed extremists. We can provide you with those and a work space, along with blueprints of the manufacturing facility and other relevant information.

“And you do have four tickets to the Ball, one of which must go to Gospodin Markov. You may find the event useful for gathering intelligence on your target. I must warn you, security at the event cannot be breached, and agents will cut you down if they even think you might pose a threat. Take the opportunity to observe, only.”

“In the meantime, I suggest the rest of us play tourists and guide for the day, as we are under observation by multiple factions. The limo will take us to our respective destinations.”

Lane tells her about the exhibition game plan. Frost loves it.

Frost suggests to Rina that she look as exotically outlander as possible. She will drop her a block from Café Zvezda, a popular hangout for the younger, hipper aristocracy. The Duchess knows to meet Rina there. Just follow her lead.

Rina puts on her normal hoodie gremlin costume, but Kestrel intervenes and dresses her in a combination of his clothes: peacock garb, tail out, ears out, doing her makeup to really bring out her cat-eyes.

In the café, it’s loud, and weird! Her ears go flat. People are staring, and a group of young men at a back table look like they’re about to get up and start something. Suddenly a girl about Rina’s age comes flying up to her, holding a slender cylinder of what looks like very iced coffee. Her fingertips are blue.

“Well, look at you! You’re a new face around here, aren’t you? Weird, you don’t seem like the industrial espionage type, what brings you to our fair city?”

“Murderball?”

“Oh, do tell!”

“My uncle’s going to have a game today for recruiting!”

“Oh, Mr. Markov?!”

“He’s not my real uncle,” she whispers, and hisses at the group of people in the corner, who look away very very quickly after seeing the Duchess with the feline interloper.

“Well!” She sets her drink down hard on the table. “There’s only one thing to do – ditch your guide, or, have you done that already? Aren’t you the clever one! Let’s really see the town! I’m Kira, by the way.” She takes you by the hand and runs girlishly out of the café, across the street, dodging traffic, and into a park.

Rina gets with the program real fast: she doesn’t like being inside: it’s loud and it smells weird.

“Do you ride?”

“What?”

“Horses, silly, It’s the best way to, well, ensure that the proles pay no attention to you – riding totally signifies “aristo biz only, mind your own,” right?”

“I’ve never even seen a horse!”

Kira drops the act and seems genuinely enthusiastic. She leads her through the park to what looks like very nice stables? There’s an old – most everybody here seems old – man with a scarlet coat and impressive beard at the door. The Duchess flips him some sort of gold disc which he makes disappear with alacrity. He bows deeply and stands aside for the pair to enter.

Rina goes up to a horse, sniffs and nuzzles- and gets nuzzled back. Horses shy back from Kira, aside from one big black one who’s all hers. Kira shows Rina how to get her tack set up: Rina’s a natural: she’s been putting gear harnesses on cats her entire life. Kira’s impressed!

They ride out, very slowly. Once Kira sees Rina’s doing ok, she steps it up to a full gallop. Rina’s right there, hanging on, talking to the horse. Kira whoops – she actually seems like a fifteen year old girl. They race through the park, across the city, and into raw forest. Rina’s gawking: this is another thing she’s never seen.

Rina tumbles off the horse and goes over to touch the tree. “Are these yours?”

“In some small sense: this is the Imperial Preserve, so, they belong to my extended family.”

A ways in she stops and dismounts, tying her horse to a tree – and she flops to the ground in front of it. “There! Now we can talk. Look, you’re being fucked around by the Okhrana and involved with three factions in the Imperial family. You’re far from home, there is no one here you can trust, and you are entirely disposable. Everyone plans on you taking the fall for whatever happens.

“There is one, and only one, way you leave this forest alive. Are you ready to listen?”

“I don’t trust you either – let’s talk!”

“The Okhrana wants to restore the Old Belief and keep Imperial Rus’ isolated.

“Dear Maman wants a stranglehold on offworld transport, and she’s convinced Yuri that’s his ticket to the throne, real soon.

“Most of ImpSec would prefer the Crown Prince meets a tragic fate sooner rather than later – and wouldn’t mind if Maman passes at the same time.

“I don’t give a shit about any of that. I want two things.

“One. Zhukov dies before the engagement announcement.

“Her mother wants him to kick right after – she thinks having a dead fiancé will protect Kat for a couple years of mourning. That is not going to happen, do you understand? He dies before, or every last one of you dies tomorrow night, even the robot.

“Two, you get me and Kat the fuck out of here.”

Rina watches and slow blinks. “What does Kat want?”

Kira sighs and leans back. “I chose well. Nobody ever asks that. She wants to leave.”

“Well duh, she doesn’t even get a real coming out!”

Rina explains what “coming out” means back in the world. Kira turns away, hiding her expression. Rina has no idea what’s going on with her. She gets up and walks around Kira and sits down in front of her. “I know that’s not how you do it here. But that’s what a coming-out is. Kat should be allowed to. All cats should be allowed to.” She’s up in her face intently.

Kira can’t meet her gaze. Rina leans in to bump her cheek and just purrs. “When we heard about the coming out, we thought we should save Kat. We can save you too- you deserve it, unless you want to be sold.”

Kira shakes her head violently. “I haven’t trusted anyone since I was four, except Kat. I’m going to trust you.”

Rina asks why she wants to kill Zhukov. Zhukov is going to marry Kat, that’s enough – but he parties with Crown Prince Yuri, and they do terrible things, mostly to young girls.

Rina pulls back, shoots out one of her ripper claws, to sketch in the dirt. “Today is the game, tomorrow is the ball, the day after is warehouse. If Zhukov’s dead, the warehouse doesn’t happen. If we have the ball, and the engagement happens, and Kat has to go to mourning, will she be harder to get to?”

Kira says yes: too many eyes, too much security in the palace. She has to go beforehand.

“If I let it be known I’ll be escorting the Princess, Zhukov will absolutely show – especially since he’s not supposed to see her before the engagement announcement. And since I “pretend” to be her personal security, I can do a patdown – and find some bare skin for the little prick.” She rolls her hand over theatrically, and you can just barely see sunlight glinting off a tiny glass needle on the pad of her forefinger.

“He won’t feel it -it’s got a local anesthetic along with poison. Three hours later, he’ll be shitting his brains out for a good two days. Unless you want to go lethal and have somebody who can finish him off on the spot and get away with it.”

Rina tells her that she needs the warehouse – or the plans, and the plane to be destroyed. The Okhrana said they’ll give her access to the network – which means she has to get to the warehouse.”

“I thought, too good to be true. Should have known.”

“We can still get Kat out, which means the ball has to happen. Can you poison Zhukov at the ball? Enough that he’s indisposed and can’t go the next day. Then, can’t announce the engagement because he’s sick and can’t be there for that. She’s outside, you figure out how to smuggle her out. We get her to my doctor.”

“I worry about engagement announcement.”

“Don’t worry about it, he’ll be dead and you’ll be out of here.”

“But in eyes of Church, she will be promised to another.”

“Promises are broken all the time. You have a coming out.”

“Oh, coming out negates engagement!”

Rina suggests coordinating with Moopsie, and administering the right poison tonight, time-acting, so he’ll start raving in the middle of the ball – and you can whisk Kat away from her crazy fiancée and take her to safety!”

“How do we get out?”

“I don’t know. I need my team.”

Kira gives her a card, heavily encrypted: access to the Imperial tailors.

“My Kat – her life is in your hands.”

Rina sends over a photo of her parents. They’re cats. Kira is confused.

“Ohh, I’m adopted!”

They ride back, with plans to meet before the game.

Rook and Moopsie check out the “abandoned warehouse” that Crimson Frost dropped them off at. Inside it’s Party Central for mayhem and destruction. It’s not all Techtronika stuff either, there’s a lot of brands you recognize, though nothing super cutting edge – it’s the kind of stuff that people might try to get away with smuggling in, and get caught at. Wow, the Okhrana must really want them to blow up the spaceplane. There’s a pile of paper documents and printed photos spread across a worktable. They’ve got shift-by-shift reports on assembly progress, in addition to blueprints and closeup photos of key components.

Looking over everything with Moopsie, Rook concludes that there’s a number of ways they could sabotage the spaceplane, ranging from turning the fusion reactor critical, which would take out the entire industrial complex (Moopsie is not down with killing innocent workers) to staring a fire in the steering control system that would burn hot enough to slag everything except the fuselage itself, to a catastrophic system failure on takeoff – which might be less likely to be traced back to them.

She also notes that the spaceplane is flightworthy, sort of. There’s no navigation software, and the avionics package is dubious. But it could be flown manually in a straight line somewhere. Landed, maybe. Ditched at sea, definitely.

She decides to build a fake bomb as cover to steal the plane: she doesn’t want to blow up the airport workers either. Something that launches a bunch of shrapnel to make it look like there’s parts of plane going everywhere. Make it look like some piece of common equipment that would be near the plane.

THE BOMB DESIGN IS TOTALLY FOOLPROOF! The housing is competent: parts will not fall out. Maybe the explosive will do the job? Maybe not? Rook adds glitter for luck.

Lane’s off shopping with Frost. She wants to know about cultural issues at the game and at the ball. They pick up Rina, who shows them the Imperial tailor card. “Kira said I shouldn’t hide my ears.”

“And you’re ok with that?” Lane asks.

“They’re very nice ears!” She grooms them.

Frost considers: it’s a good distraction – more bold than she would plan, but she is not fifteen year old murderess. She asks Rina to ask Kira for access to the nobles’ box.

She gets the rollerball exhibition game going quickly, and it hits state media bigtime. She tells you Markov is a huge celebrity, and it’d be a major coup for the state to bring him back home, so they’re laying it on ultra-thick, and will be throwing maidens at him at the Ball. Cadets, if necessary – do you know his preferences? Lane’s pretty sure it’s maidens.

They get exceptionally careful service from the Imperial tailor on dropping Kira’s name. Lane chooses something as well.

Frost drops them back off at the hotel: she’s going to need to go to the Palace of Sport to coordinate the event with Markov. Do not leave without her: call the concierge if you need anything, or call her, and she’ll come back to fetch everyone. They won’t survive a minute on the streets here.

Back at the hotel, Rina enlists Rook to build a copy of the Okhrana device. Rina plans out some software: Rook think’s it’s Just Fine. Rina tests the secret bugs. It’s feeding out Miss Natalia’s conversation at the end of the hall. She grumbles and turns off the device. “Fine! Keep your secrets!”

They go back to all internal agent, Rina puts the opera back on.

Lane wants updates!

Rina went horseback riding! She likes horses!

“Moops and I built a not-bomb.”

Rina actually built a report: she was writing in her notes app through the entire conversation. Lane calls it the Coming Out Plan, as opposed to the Okhrana’s Plan; they’re not compatible, unless they come up with a third option, but that’s likely to get them killed by both parties.

Rook explains the Not-Bomb. She wonders if Markov could fly the spaceplane: “and he’s kind of cute in a scary way.”

They’re gong to try to make it look like the spaceplane blew up, and take off in it. And poison Zhukov at the ball. Rina feels confident she’s convinced Kira not to try to kill Zhukov at the ball, and let the engagement announcement go ahead.

They’ll snatch Kat from the ball: it’s the closest to the outside that she’ll be. But Rina wonders how they get the girls out afterwards. Lane suggests disguising them as part of Markov’s entourage. Rina needs to ask if they have trackers on them, but Lane’s sure Kira can deal with that.

Rina sends a message to Kira’s agent, asking if they can come to the thing tonight, and can they access the box. They’ll discuss more in person. Rina notes you can’t hack paper.

Rina asks Moopsie about poisons: she thinks they’re like software programs, that can do a lot of things. Poison him tonight so he’s still sick tomorrow, and then go into a babbling frothing rage at the ball, so he can’t be close to Kat. And then Kira will whisk her away.

It takes some convincing: Moopsie just wants him dead, but Rook suggests humiliating him first. That works.

Moopsie whips up a formula that will definitely leave him debilitatingly sick, maybe ragey, who knows? Rina sends it on to Kira.