" . . . Wot in th' bloody hells?" Were the first words to roll off Captain Cordell's lips following the unexpected Scroll call, the look on her face one of sheer confusion which gradually gave way to annoyance. She wasn't in the habit of providing her number to people -- she kept the Scroll mostly as a formality, a 'just in case' should a client want to stay in touch
during a job. When someone hired her it was usually through the dark net CCTS site or, if the client was more oldschool, leaving a message for her at the bars she frequented in Vacuo. But certain customers didn't much take to her more cautious approaches, it seemed. She recognized the voice after the fact: a black market "matchmaker" who lined up business connections for the criminally inclined. He'd seemed the pushy sort initially, and now that he was taking to disregarding her security precautions he'd officially landed himself on Cordell's bad side.
"Arrogant bastard. Del, upload those coordinates an' add mister Beauregard t' th' straight-to-voicemail list, would'ya? " Putting her celebratory tumbler of rum aside, she plugged a seldom-used connection cable into her equally-seldom-used Scroll, making it accessible to Delahaye.
"One moment captain -- interfacing now."After her First Mate / virtual assistant worked magic in ones and zeroes, Cordell pulled up the coordinates on a display map, then cross-referenced whatever files she could. Nothing of note... no inhabitants... no unusual Grimm activity... not even on any smuggling routes, at least as far as she knew. She narrowed her eyes, looking distrustfully at the island map in front of her while she thought. "Big payday" for "some exposing thing"...? Face to face meeting, with no details beforehand? No... no way in
hell did this sit well.
"I take it from your expression that you are concerned. We have little information to go on and no firm reasons to get involved. Should I assume we will not accept the job?"Cordell sighed, slumping into her chair and pulling her hat down over her face. The haul from the cargo ship they'd just raided was good, but not
that good -- the Red Corsair was going to need new linkages on the starboard side in the next few weeks and a replacement N-S oscillator for the main generator's Dust flow controls, neither of which would come cheap. The need to keep her ship flying dueled with her desire to avoid getting suckered into a scam -- or worse, a trap. Groaning, she sat up and glared at the island map once more.
"Nothin' ventured, nothin' gained. I don't much like it, but I like loose ends less. Whoever they are, they're askin' fer Cordell... an' that's exactly what they're gonna get."
What disquiet she'd had before arrival only intensified as she saw her destination. Thanks to the ship's sensors she could see the rough makeup of the base -- and the firepower it was packing -- at a significant distance. Plotting a course that maximized their ability to duck out if the guns started firing, the Red Corsair cautiously swung by for a closer look. Sensors came up with a big fat "nobody home": no airships, no movement, not even a sailboat on the shore. Just...
nothing. An empty landing pad, some serious firepower, and some bargain bin looking reinforced structures. This begged
FAR more questions than it answered.
"So... on th' one hand, if this 'classy lady' with fat stacks o' lien set all this up, she's clearly good for th' cash." Donning her full regalia, Cordell strode out of the cockpit and headed for the jump room, descending a narrow steel ladder to the lower level of the ship.
"On th' other, that cash had'a come from somewhere. Kingdoms, military, SDC, th' bloody Fang -- somewhere.""A logical assumption, yes.""Which means if Moneybags McSecretBase wants t' hire me, chances are those guns ain't just fer show. Probably means it ain't just gonna be a one-on-one meetup, neither.""You anticipate an ambush?"The pirate made a noise between a huff and a chuckle as she opened a reinforced weapons locker.
"I'd be stupid not t', ay? That's why we ain't exactly gonna use th' front door." She tucked away one ammo clip after another into her jacket, checking several briefly to make sure they were full and cross-loading those that weren't.
"Bring us up t' high altitude an' make ready fer a pass over th' base.""You intend to jump." It wasn't a question. Cordell couldn't help but grin.
"What can I say? I love this bit."Strapping on two Zephyr Cutlasses, one on each hip, and carefully stowing her hat, the brunette completed her preparations by donning a parachute and double-checking that her comm device was securely fastened. Marching over to a big red lever on the wall, Cordell paused.
"Del, standin' orders time. Once I'm on th' ground make fer a safe distance an' await further instructions. If I get captured or worse, or if ye lose me signal fer more'n ninety minutes, use a random evasive path t' get th' ship an yerself back home. Wait fer th' usual signals before comin' back fer me... an' tell me ol' man not t' lose his head an' do anythin' rash, savvy?""Understood captain. Good luck, and come back safe."Flipping the switch caused red emergency lights to begin flashing, the doorway back into the ship sealing with a pressurized '
hiss'. A second later the air pressure began to equalize to the outside and a brisk chill flooded the room. Walking over to the edge of the main floor hatch, a deviously grinning Cordell watched it slide open and the island -- barely more than a tiny speck far below now -- come into view.
"Optimal jump path in twenty five seconds... twenty... fifteen... ten... five..." On the stroke of 'one', Cordell spun herself around and launched into a backflip, whooping excitedly as she did so.
The air whipped at her face, hair, and crimson long coat as gravity took hold, the young woman's world becoming a wash of grey skies and pale seas as her ship flew away behind her. Ahead, the island -- and its weaponry -- steadily grew until she could see it with some clarity. The bet she'd made with her jump was this: if the guns were active then the big ones would have trouble tracking a human-sized target while the small ones wouldn't have the ability to track something moving at terminal velocity. It was a move she'd successfully pulled off before, though admittedly never against
this many boomsticks. If she survived the descent she'd aim to land on the building's roof, or at least tumble off of it. Mentally she ticked off her descent, running the mental calculations for when pulling her chute would made the difference between a rough landing... and a deadly one.
Piracy rule #27:
always make a flash entrance!