An expert in the use of explosives of all kinds, able to gauge the best way to achieve any objective using explosives to do anything from breaching through doors/walls/floors/ceilings, disable enemy equipment/vehicles, or set up effective ambushes in the most efficient way possible.
"Looks good Ma'am. Abit broad and unfocused, but let's see what I can drill into this kid's skull."
-Neil
Difficulty Modifier: Hard (-1)
Roll (2d4): 6
Result: 5 - Average
Redrick Batiste takes to the training well. Soon enough, the entire company is calling him "Redbrick" as he spends his days learning the ins-and-outs of reddish Semtex clay. Per request, Neil tried to include some more advanced topics such as improvised explosives, shaped charges, custom initiators, line charges, land mines (manufactured and improvised), incendaries, thermobarics, explosively formed penetrators, runway cratering, and large structure demolition, but Redbrick couldn't get too deep with so many technical topics presented. While needing more work to be considered a true "expert," at the end of the month, Redbrick is a safe and competent user of plastic explosives.
Redbrick the Demolitions ExpertAble to rig, place, and attach demo charges safely and reliably. Understands appropriate use of demo charges. Broad but shallow knowledge of a wide variety of explosives and demolition techniques.
***
The memorial service is held in a small auditorium packed with well groomed figures in black silk suits and gowns. After a brief opening statement from the event's host, Elon Musk the Second, you take the stage. Even after decades aboard the Leviathan, and even getting regular TI Med "reju-regen" sessions yourself, you can never really get used to seeing 100+ year old minds ensconsced within picture perfect young bodies.
You're dressed in an elegant yet modest black gown, in a respectable attempt to both maintain your image as a grieving widow and futilely mimic the high fashion "one percent" of the New Worlds. Hundreds of eyes upon hundreds of unnaturally young faces gaze upon critically as you take the stage. Few really respect the two resident PMC's as worthy of the Leviathan, and their continued presence is generally considered an oddity. But oddities are interesting, and tonight Nick Clay and you are the hot ticket freak show the idle rich came to see.
"I remember the first time I met Danny... we were so young. So full of fire. I asked him who he was. He looked at me and said "I'm just a good old-fashioned cowboy". I laughed. Before I knew it we where giving each other vows."
"He said I'd never have to worry while he was around. He brought me here. He built this place as our home. He followed that vow every day. Ocean's Ten made sure he didn't do it alone. We're family here. They share a blood shed on the battlefield, with my Danny as the stern father keeping the band of brothers in line."
You pause as you try to hold back tears, "He died trying to pull our boys out. I remember I asked him once: "Are you scared of dying? You know, for real?" He looked into my eyes and said "I didn't when I was young. Now I've got you and the boys, and what would y'all do without me around?" Well Danny, now you have your answer. This is still Ocean's Ten, and I'm the only Ocean around now. You rest easy. I'll keep an eye on our boys."
"I harbor no ill will towards Greywater. What they did in that Weland-Yutani lab was an accident. A strategic miscalculation that cost them as much as it did us or Weland-Yutani. I ask you all to forgive them for this tragedy, as I have. I know what they're going through. We're all going through the same thing. We all do what we must to survive in this galaxy. We've all lost people we cared about. While we may find ourselves on the opposite ends of an armed conflict, we both call the same ship our home at the end of the night. Bad blood will only weaken our community. Greywater has learned their lesson. We all have to move on to the bright future. For those we lost and those they left behind. Thank you for coming, everyone..."
With a polite embrace, Elon Musk the Second, takes back the stage to introduce Greywater Solutions PMC President, Nick Clay. You don't think you've ever formally met the notorious Nick Clay, but you feel like you have with how much Neil and Danny have spoken derisively about him over the years. As you see him swagger onto the stage, you begin to understand why.
While Nick Clay did follow the all black dresscode one would expect at a memorial service, the clothing itself was pure paramilitary: black MOLLE tac vest over pressed night ops fatigues, pant legs bloused over spit-shined black leather jungle boots. ...And of course he's open carrying a HK USP .40 in a drop leg holster. Neil would later comment that "at least he took the morale patches off." Whatever that means.
Perhaps misinterpreting your prolonged stare of disbelief as one of interest, he winks at you on the walk up to the microphone.
"For those that don't know me, I'm President Clay, your resident sheepdawg. As a wise man once said, you sleep safely in your beds because rough men standy ready in the night to visit violence on those who would harm you. And those rough men ladies and gentlemen, are Greywater Solutions PMC. We are the Thin Blue Line (or should I say, Thin Grey Line) separating our utopian civilization from the terrorist anarchist chaos that seeks to destroy it."
Although Nick Clay apparently started with an almost absurdly inappropriate sales pitch, your blood goes cold sensing where this speech is really going.
"Now there are some men, who safe-guard the brilliant scientists and industrialists who grant us this remarkable standard of living we all cherish. And there are some men..." he sneers, "well I guess we wouldn't call them men now would we?"
A few scattered chuckles in the audience prove that at least some appreciated the not exactly subtle personal insult.
"I lost five good men on Paramour. My only regret is that I would've lost more, if only to protect you. Taking lives to save lives is what we do folks, and I wish that day on Paramour we did it better."
Your focus on the speech is broken as catch Neil jump out of his seat and furiously storm out of the auditorium.
"Now some of you pro-Coalition political types say guys like us are dinosaurs. That Danny and me were the two last T-Rexes, keeping the cavemen stuck in their caves. Little old me, holding back the age of man they say! Color me flattered fellas!"
The punchline lands surprisingly well, a few more chuckles came out of the now warmed up crowd. Only your simmering anger holds you back from acknowledging a well executed joke.
"I just want those folks to know, that not all PMC's lack a certain moral compass." After a dramatic pause, he continues, "Now I know it's not 'politically correct' to say this, but all of us at Greywater Solutions are upstanding Christian men. I know that's not everybody's thing these days, but I'm a Christian first and a soldier second. I expect the same out of all my men."
"That being said, I invite all of you to join us at Twenty Forward Lounge afterwards for a toast to our fallen operator brothers. Keep the faith."
Nick Clay exits the stage to mild applause, his charged monologue enough to make some forget they were at a funeral. Sensing your discomfort, Sam leans in to whisper to you, "That guy is more full of shit than a Lossarnach stable."
The memorial service winds down to meet and mingle afterward. Sam stays by your side as play the dual role of widow and businesswoman. Many whose names you can't recall offer condolences for your loss. It's overwhelming, and surely most of it is insincere, but you're glad so many paid respects to your deceased husband.
Nick finds you soon enough, "Ms. Ocean! I don't think we've been formally introduced." You smile politely, expecting him to now apologize or otherwise downplay the spectacle he just pulled at your expense. He smiles back, "Nick Clay, President, Greywater Solutions PMC." After shaking your hand he quickly goes for an embrace. His hands get abit more familiar with your body than you'd like. Before you can even respond, he whispers in your ear, "But you Darling, can call me whatever you want."
Sam deftly grabs your hand and pulls you away, "Mrs. Ocean! There's a Zuckerberg I'd like you to meet right over here!"
***
After a month in FTL, you finally reach the Thiel Planetary System.
Space Cowboys for Hire (Turn 1)You review a quick and dirty summary of the planetary system as you arrive. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch Sam running off to his comm terminal to chase down clients. "The early bird gets the worm, Mrs. Ocean."
Thiel Planetary System
Founder/Proprietor: Confinity Investments LLC
Rivendell
Minor Glitterworld
System capital and HQ of Confinity Investments LLC
Lossarnach
Minor Agriworld
Renowned for both its Country Club and Flossmoor Debtors Prison
Anghabar
Mineralworld
Largest exporter of mineral resources in the New Worlds
Harad
Frontierworld
Sparsely populated and largely ungoverned semi-arid frontierContact PhaseIt's not long before you meet again with Sam.
"Mrs. Ocean, now its time to get to business. Across the four planets of this system, we have various contacts who may have work for us. Normally they'd be throwing jobs at us, but news of what happened on Paramour is just now reaching them via the arrival of the Mothership Leviathan. In our current state, both Neil and myself strongly recommend we avoid Rivendell. I doubt they'd even find us useful now anyways."
"Avoiding Rivendell, I've compiled a short-list of 17 contacts I believe we could work with this month. Allowing time for negotiation and mission prep, we can approach five of them. Here's a quick list:"
Lossarnach Country Club
-Small Corporation
Upscale recreational club focused on equestria
Potter Properties
-Small Corporation
Local real estate investors and developers
Anghabar Mining and Refining
-Medium Corporation
Largest single employer and exporter in the Thiel system
Tyrell Dynamics
-Large Corporation
High end AI and robotics corporation
Los Tornadoes
-Small Criminal Organization
Rural biker gang
Swearengen's Gentlemen's Club
-Medium Criminal Organization
A franchise of sketchy clubs associated with organized crime
Slavic Vor
-Large Criminal Organization
Multi-polar Slavic crime syndicate operating throughout the New Worlds
Casa Nuova
-Large Criminal Organization
A hierarchical crime syndicate nostalgic for Old World Italian mafioso culture
Goodhaven Sheriff
-Small Law Enforcement
Resident law enforcement for an small town on Harad
Harad Marshals
-Medium Law Enforcement
Aggressive planet-wide bounty-hunters tasked with hunting dangerous fugitives on Harad
Flossmore Warden
-Medium Law Enforcement
Warden for Flossmore Debtor's Prison on Lossarnach
Coalition Expeditionary Forces
-Large Law Enforcement
Militarized security forces loyal to Coalition interests
Interstellar Red Cross
-Medium Political Organization
Non-profit organization dedicated to provided humanitarian relief
Amnesty Interstellar
-Medium Political Organization
Non-profit organization dedicated to advancing human rights and civil liberties
United Labor Movement
-Large Political Organization
Interstellar umbrella organization uniting various local trade and labor unions.
United Green Party
-Large Political Organization
Interstellar left-leaning political organization constantly pressuring the Coalition to adopt progressive policies
Interstellar Geographic Society
-Large Academic Organization
Non-profit organization dedicated to the exploration of the New Worlds and their terraformed wilderness
"Obviously, some of those organizations will offer more legally dubious work than others. Also, some of the more higher tier contacts may still rebuff us for PR reasons. You're the boss Mrs. Ocean, but I recommend the following list of contacts:"
(0) Lossarnach Country Club
(0) Potter Properties:
(1) Anghabar Mining and Refining: Sam
(0) Tyrell Dynamics:
(0) Los Tornadoes:
(1) Swearengen's Gentlemen's Club: Sam
(0) Slavic Vor:
(0) Casa Nuova:
(1) Goodhaven Sheriff: Sam
(0) Harad Marshals:
(0) Flossmore Warden:
(0) Coalition Expeditionary Forces:
(0) Interstellar Red Cross:
(0) Amnesty Interstellar:
(1) United Labor Movement: Sam
(0) United Green Party:
(1) Interstellar Geographic Society: Sam
***
The night of the memorial service still bothers you. Despite your best attempts to present Ocean's Ten PMC as a humble, neutral, and professional organization, Greywater President Nick Clay's diatribe only further radicalized your image. Actions speak louder than words however. While our planet-side missions will define us greatly, ship-side conduct reflects upon us as well. Our entire corporate culture died on Paramour, and none of our operations are entirely sure what norms there are on and off the workplace. Many of our men have taken great joy in the liberties and comfort of the Mothership Leviathan. Anna has been turning more than a few heads with her love of crop tops and short shorts. Hoxton was reportedly kicked out of the Red Light District just last week. Just because something is legal, doesn't mean it's free of stigma. But maybe your operators need to blow off steam like that? Either way, you should set some guidance going forward.
Describe or write some rules or other guidance to define how your men (and women) conduct themselves ship-side. Are you an straight-laced ultra-regimented military organization, or a libertine pirate crew? Are your men always representing the best of Ocean's Ten PMC, or more of a "work hard, play hard" mentality? Is everyone on a first name basis or are ranks/titles/honorifics required? What about uniforms or dress codes? What's company policy on drug use?
At the end of the turn, GM will compile the best of submissions to guide further storytelling. If this doesn't interest you, I'm sure Sam and Neil will work something out as we go.