R4c 0c

Peter|GM: The Institute of Technology, the quad outside the Union Building, 3:00 AM. There's a meeting tonight, in a forgotten little space in the medical building, just through the little garden here. Somebody left the door ajar for you, you know that.
Peter|GM: It's pretty hard for student groups to meet in secret, what with the BTs prowling the little pedestrian lanes at all hours, the friendly glow of their headlamps twisting this way and that.
Peter|GM: But I mean, there's a trick for that.
Peter|GM: This particular one - the one that's coming into sight now, off of its patrols of the sports fields - got delayed a little, helping a student get home. Now he's limping in towards his charger, and he's going to make it just in time…
Peter|GM: …If someone didn't park a motorcycle in front of it.
Peter|GM: It pulls limply at it for twelve seconds, before its light begins to flash, and it falls dormant.
Peter|GM: So, the coast is clear.
Fidela waits behind a corner for its lights to dim, then scoots past. She'll have to keep that trick in mind for later.
Peter|GM: There's a little loop of aluminum foil pressed into the little side door of the Iglesia Medical Building. So that, you know, even when it's slightly ajar (as it is now), the contact sensor thinks it's closed. And then there's a mostly-empty lecture hall for you to go visit.
Fidela continues through, inspecting the work of the other attendees tonight. Cute tricks, but she prefers something with a little more subtlety. This kind of meeting area - there's got to be better places to meet with less security risks. Unless there's something specifically here tonight.
Peter|GM: It's - I mean, it's the usual pack. Erio, as scruffy as ever, is seated near the back, and she shoots you a dry smile on the way in. Juanna's standing near the podium, surrounded by the usual pack of credulous foreign students and first years, delivering fiery rhetoric about how a country ought to be.
Peter|GM: It's the smaller conversations that are more interesting.
Peter|GM: "You know, I cracked open a BT the other day."
Peter|GM: "You're fucking crazy, you know that, right?"
Peter|GM: "Ok, the fuel cell they got on it. It's not Selvite. Regular Li."
Peter|GM: "…Huh."
Peter|GM: But then you notice Juanna, in addition to her charismatic smile and her short shaven hair, has a lot of little metal cases sitting at the back of the hall.
Fidela: "They run on electricity, not fuel, yeah?"
Peter|GM: "Yeah. But I mean, the crust is crowing about its superfuel, and it puts it in all the trucks but not in its robotic running dogs…?"
Peter|GM: "Maybe 'cause they knew you were gonna crack em open."
Peter|GM: And there's somebody new here, too, out of place. Older guy. Mutton-chopped burly dude in a thick coat. He's not talking to anyone, just sitting there, gloved hands folded together, shadowed beneath his hat, waiting.
Peter|GM: …Looks kinda familiar. You swore you used to see him around the math department.
Fidela nods at the latter speaker, then continues onto Juanna. "Hey. What's in the back there? New tricks?"
Peter|GM: She smiles. "That, my friend, is the mechanisms of change."
Peter|GM: "The hands and gifts of a new tomorrow."
Peter|GM: "Cause I don't know about you, but I'm getting real tired of getting fried by SWs."
Fidela: "Is the mechanism, are the mechanisms. Don't let the excutement spoil your grammar."
Peter|GM: "So I haven't spoken Selvan all my life like you."
[OOC] Fidela: Excitement*. Hilarious.
Fidela smirks at the prospect of being able to deal with those tanks. "Well. What do they do, exactly? Microwave shielding, or some sort of jammer specific to them?"
Peter|GM: She gestures holding it over her shoulder, posing to look cool: "You point it at it…"
Peter|GM: "You pull the trigger…"
Peter|GM: "And the grand square has a brand-new smoking wreck."
Peter|GM: "…I like your clever tricks and all, but they don't quite send a message, do they?"
Peter|GM: There's some murmurs of timid agreement from her entourage.
Peter|GM: You can hear Erio mumble to herself, far in the back - '(fucking nuts.)'
Peter|GM: Juanna flips Erio the bird. "Write another fucking policy paper, why don't you?"
Fidela shrugs nonchalantly. "So I focus on the substance instead of the flash. There's value in what both of us do."
Peter|GM: Juanna's mollified a little. There's not much heart in it when she turns her fuming look on you again.
Peter|GM: "Yes. I appreciate the scrubbing you got me and ours. I won't say I don't."
Fidela: "And without you, that 'ours' would be smaller, I feel." She tilts her head at the, uh, entourage.
Peter|GM: A few more students filter in. Nobody interesting.
Peter|GM: "Should probably get to the agenda, anyway." She says. Can't help but almost smile.
Fidela grins mischievously. "So ease up on me and Erio, yeah? Infighting is unbecoming of our little band."
Peter|GM: "She's-"
Peter|GM: "Eh, if she's the price I get for having you, I'll put up with her."
Peter|GM: A rolling shrug. "Now, I should probably go over the agenda. Can't keep us up all night."
Fidela: "Anyway. Get to it." She waves and steps back a bit, letting her have the floor.
Peter|GM: She calls on a few guest speakers - they talk, a little, about their publicity campaigns, about the fate of a few of their number who have been taken into custody, about what they're doing to get word to their family. But there's an anticipation in the air. Nobody's really paying attention.
Peter|GM: "There's going to be a big protest in two weeks, in front of the Republic Building."
Peter|GM: "Everybody knows that, the Service department included. They'll shut down all the trains, kettle everyone, and fry em till they're happy."
Peter|GM: "Which I'm fucking tired of." She picks up one of the metal cases, lays it over three desks in the front row, and pops it open.
Peter|GM: It's a real fucking anti-tank weapon.
Fidela raises an eyebrow. "That's … a little different from what I had in mind. Thought it would involve signal disabling."
Peter|GM: "This real disables a fucking signal."
Peter|GM: "So we get access to a few windows. We wait for the kettling to start, the SWs to roll in and sit up."
Peter|GM: "And then - kablam. And then we go."
Peter|GM: "There's your protest. Nobody gets fried and we all vanish, and where they are all expecting everyone to be we are not."
Fidela: "More a riot than a protest."
Fidela: "And it's Alleronian in origin. That's liable to start an international incident."
Peter|GM: Juanna's lips stumble. And then: "I don't think it's going to leave much of a signature."
Peter|GM: "…Any don't get fired, we dispose of em, right-like."
Peter|GM: "Worth it for a few less tanks on our goddamn streets, I think."
Fidela: "Traffic cameras could catch a visual of them. Signatures can be scrubbed, but I don't think that's a two-week job. And if they inspect the residue, they'll find something other than Selvite, so that'll raise a few eyebrows."
Peter|GM: Juanna opens her eyes. "International incident you say? What would they-"
Peter|GM: The man in the back raises his hand. Juanna calls on him - "Yes, friend?"
Peter|GM: "With all due respect." The muttonchopped man says, nodding to Fidela.
Fidela: "Go right ahead."
Peter|GM: "To find Alleron arms in Selva, turn over a rock. Our military was once knit very, very tightly to theirs."
Peter|GM: "As such, the obvious - and true - explanation is that there was merely some surplus floating around from the chaos of the revolution."
Peter|GM: "I suspect the State Department will settle on that explanation as well. They are much more content with enemies within than enemies outside, after all."
Fidela: "Huh. Well, sorry about that, then."
Peter|GM: He shakes his head. "No, no. It is important to ask such questions."
Peter|GM: "I'm a little bit heartened that there are some youth in this day and age who do, in fact, ask exactly what their machines are doing, and what will mean."
Peter|GM: "If we had more such as you, perhaps the country would have not gotten to this state."
Peter|GM: "…But that's all idle rambling. Mz. Juanna, I'll yield the floor." He taps his hat, and has a seat.
Fidela gives that catlike grin again. "Yeah, yeah. Just a little jumpy about open conflict. Anything outside of cyber-warfare is outside of my expertise."
Peter|GM: "And what a lovely battlefield this nation has given you, hasn't it…?" He says - quietly, just to you and himself, as Juanna continues.
Fidela shrugs and takes a step back, yielding the floor, herself.
Peter|GM: She goes over the plan. Four rockets for the four SWs they're going to place, at each of the four entrances onto the grand plaza on 4th Avenue. Rent a room in the century hotel here, get roof access onto this building here, post lookouts here and here -
Peter|GM: The photographs she put up on the projector have a hand-developed look.
Peter|GM: She goes over the plan, and then adjourns the meeting. People stagger their departures - can't leave all at once, after all.
Fidela flips through open vacancies for the hotel, looking for a good position. She debates on using forged identities - stealing ones already existing in the Selpass database are easier, but could implicate innocents.
Peter|GM: Could score room 614. That'd give you a good view.
Peter|GM: Or maybe you'd like a luxury suite…?
Peter|GM: The burly man walks up beside you. Looks over his shoulder, then: "You know, if you're who I think you are…"
Peter|GM: "I think I marked your Algorithms final."
Peter|GM: A self-satisfied tiny little chuckle.
Fidela: Nope. 614 it is. Opportunity over comfort.
Peter|GM: "Dr. Welway thought you had pulled a trick on him, had me prove your work for him."
Peter|GM: "…Took me two afternoons and a stiff glass of scotch."
Fidela jumps a bit - a cold shock spreads to her shoulders and lingers for a while as her heart pounds - but it's quickly back to normal. "Aheh. Hem. Sorry to be a bother, then."
Peter|GM: "Hardly."
Peter|GM: "Just the respect of one old hunter to another."
Peter|GM: "You went into computer maths, over the true, I suppose…?"
Fidela: "At a hobbyist level, at best. Arts track, starting next semester. Poetry."
Peter|GM: "…What a waste."
Peter|GM: "Well, send the forest school my regards."
Peter|GM: He turns, waves over his shoulder, heads out.
Fidela trots after him after a bit. "Hold on, now! Um. You've seen my work, though, do you really think there's anything I can further learn in a formal setting?"
Peter|GM: He stops.
Peter|GM: Strokes his chin.
Peter|GM: "It isn't really about what you could learn."
Peter|GM: "It's about being told you have to leap to the moon…"
Peter|GM: "…And then you do it."
Peter|GM: "…And funding. Funding, also, is the other thing."
Fidela: "I've done the math. You have any idea how much I could make on commission as a consultant over government grants? Less red tape in the way, too."
Fidela: "More money, more freedom, all for being as multifaceted as I am. You want me to show you my plan over a few more afternoons and scotch?"
Peter|GM: He lowers his voice, heads back.
Peter|GM: "And here I was thinking no one here had a plan."
Peter|GM: "I'll be in the capitol until the protest, at the least…" He considers.
Peter|GM: "The Viderci Club just ordered in a good vintage for me. I'll pour you the top from it tomorrow evening, if you drop by."
Fidela: "Group's liable to fall apart. I could rally them when it was just a few of us, but - it's growing into a mob. Individual plans, not a collective one."
Fidela: "I'll see you then, professor."
Peter|GM: "See you then."
Peter|GM: He nods, heads out.

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