Continuing… (It's Part 6 in the saga, I fucked up. Sorry.)
So, after a few re-fueling and impromptu cigar-purchasing stops in South and Central America, we wheel up to the deserted jetway at LAX.
“Thought we were going to Elmendorf?” I asked.
“This isn’t it?” the pilot replied, feigning worry.
“No.”, I replied, “Looks like California. Fruits and nuts. All around. What’s going on? One minute we’re off to Texas, then Cali, then Texas again, now we end up here at the California airport of the iconic tower.”
“Yeah, it’s confusing enough haulin’ civilians around. But when we get a call from Virginia, we tend to comply without any questions,” the pilot explains.
“Aw, shit!”, I sort of exclaim, “Rack and Ruin called?”
“Yeah”, the pilot replies, “Figures you’d know these guys. They said they were closer to LAX rather than Texas and had us divert here. In fact, you look over there, see that dark blue Chevy? That’s them; and evidently, your ride.”
I tipped the airman from earlier a couple of cigars as he helped me with my gear off the plane and into the trunk of Rack and Ruin’s plain-Jane blue late modeled Chevy. Had to move the Sidewinder Missiles off to one side, though.
“Most honorable Agents Lack and Luin!” I quipped in my faux-racist greeting. “What the hell, guys? I’ve got to get to Japan and get some newly rigidified digits.”
“Let’s see your hand”, Agent Rack asks. “Nasty.”
“Yeah”, I sigh “And with the medicos in South America and their penchant for plaster, I don’t so much have a left hand as more of an ankylosaur tail.”
“Or Thagomizer”, Agent Ruin tittered. “Anyone gives you grief, and one upside the head should set them right. Or dead.”
“You’re a riot, Ruin.” I replied, “But not entirely incorrect.”
We all agreed that I really didn’t need any extra accouterments to make myself look more dangerous. I mean with my severe haircut, stern beard clip, and perpetual ‘Go fuck yourself’ scowl.
“Yeah”, I replied, stroking the aforementioned beard, “I just can’t get that. I’m such a people person.”
After Agents Rack and Ruin finished drying their eyes from laughing what I thought was en extremis, we finally got down to business.
“So, what’s the skinny, guys”, I asked. “New marching orders?”
“No. Not as such”, Agent Ruin said, still sniggering over my ‘people person’ comment.
I see we’re moving. Agent Rack is just driving casually, like Chewbacca when they were waiting to see if the Empire went for that expensive Bothan code.
“Then, what?” I asked, getting a slight bit piqued.
“Well”, Agent Ruin noted, “When you went to South America, you took some of your artillery collection with, correct?”
“You know I did. You even made some snide comments about my personal choice of sidearms and their ‘excessive’ calibers, if memory serves”, I reiterated.
“And if you are proceeding normally, as you always do, they’re all nestled in the trunk of this very car. All cleaned, quiet, unloaded, and smelling sweetly of Hoppe’s Number 9 and WD 40, correct?” Rack inquired.
“Yes?” I cautiously venture.
“Well, ya’ big dummy, do you think they’re going to let you saunter into Tokyo armed like the Third Fleet?” Agent Ruin chuckled.
“Um…well…I do have a Diplomatic Passport.” I ventured.
“That’s not going to work this time.”, Agent Ruin said, shaking his head. “They’re tighter than Dick’s Hatband about sidearms. Want to bring in your Rigby SXS .500 Nitro Express double rifle? Not a problem. Sidearms, especially in your alien hunting calibers, nope.”
Well, that’s just….*dandy!”, I reply, semi-put out. “Now what the hell am I going to do?”
“Ever think that’s why Ruin and I are here, now?”, Rack asks.
“And here I thought it was just so you could bask in the warm glow of my fucking wonderful personality. Or that you actually cared about me as a real goddamn human”, I joshed.
“Ummm…yeah”, Rack replies, “There’s no way we can answer that without going on some Deadpool list. “
I agreed.
“OK, here’s the deal: you get your sidearms, ammunition, speed loaders, brass knuckles, Asp, laser range finders, Sap, Zeiss scopes, Kukri, Wisconsin Cheese Whittler, Buck folding skinner, Marine K-Bar, those two ultra-illegal Cheburkov Cobra titanium switchblades...”
“Three. Olga the KGB lady sent me one for Geologist’s Day.”
“Ahem. Those three ultra-illegal Cheburkov switchblades, that Wyoming Speedholer, your MASER Time-Distance Computer, garrote, pocket rail gun and whatever else lethal you carry and deposit it in the iron box in the trunk. We’ll ensure that it’s delivered to Esme post-haste. And by post-haste I mean one of our guys will deliver it personally.”
“Well…I suppose”, I conceded, “But best send someone who’s been to the house recently. I don’t know how much bigger Khan has grown since I left on this little fantasy trip. Wouldn’t want a star on the wall in Langley for someone eaten by a mastiff. Want to see a picture….Oh, bother. That’s right. My phone’s at the bottom of fucking Lake Maracaibo.”
“Good point”, Ruin interjects, “Guess we’ll do a little road trip and deliver it ourselves. Best call Esme and let her know what’s going on.”
“I have no objections to your proposals. Please give Esme this when you see her. I had some luck in the Calaveras Casino and if I don’t send her some mad money. Ouch. She’ll never forgive me for not taking her along to Japan.” I asked.
“But I thought Esme hated Japan? Too crowded and too ‘fussy’, I believe was her estimation.” Ruin asked.
“Yes, but once she saw the Ginza, all bets were off. Shopping the likes of which even Allah himself hasn’t seen.” I replied, slowly shaking my head.
“I see”, Ruin said, “Well, since you’re off to Sapporo, perhaps you can do a recon for Esme on the shopping there.”
“Not bad. Not bad at all.”, I smiled, “Now I know why I let you guys hang around with me.”
So, as advertised, I am now standing on the tarmac at LAX, basically feeling naked.
“Can’t I keep just one switchblade?” I moaned to Agent Rack.
“Go ahead, if you’re really keen on donating it to Japanese customs”, he replied.
“Fuckbuckets.” I groused.
“There, there now. That’s the usual Dr. Rocknocker of which we’re all so fond.” Agent Ruin chuckled.
“Remember, you do have that wallet-sized credit card gizmo from the Company. So you’re not entirely ‘naked’. Think of it as an emergency breechcloth.” He smiled.
“I’d like a larger model if you don’t mind. It’s chilly out here.” I joshed.
After Agents Rack and Ruin stripped me metaphorically naked as they de-weaponized me, they handed me a Business Class ticket to Tokyo, and a pass to the Japan Airlines Hospitality Suite and Lounge.
“So sorry you guys can’t hang around and have a few farewell snorts”, I chided, “But you’ve got a bit of a drive, so best be off before the weather turns to shit.”
“Who says we’re driving?” Agent Rack asked as he hooked a thumb over his shoulder at the ready and waiting C-130 cargo plane currently taxiing slowly in our direction.
“Well, in that case”, I smiled even more broadly, “Let’s invite the flight crew to join us. That’ll make the flight home all that much more interesting.”
After near tear-jerking farewell sentimentalities, i.e., “Piss on you”, “Get stuffed” and “Take a fuckin’ hike”; Agents Rack and Ruin, my weapons and the Agency’s plain-Jane Blue Chevy were all nestled snugger than buggers in ruggers in the belly of the thundering C-130.
Now truly on my own, I trudge the hundred thousand or so centisteps to my departure terminal, make a quick recon that my flight’s still slated to go in a generally westward direction, and hightail it to the nearest courtesy desk to ask for a motorized cart to take me and my remaining luggage to the JAL Hospitality Suite.
Hey. I’m old, infirm, and currently among the walking wounded.
Anyone that disagrees risks an Ankylosaur tail club swat or Thagomizer to the skull.
Finally ensconced in the JAL Hospitality Suite, Polo Lounge of course; I was drinking Tokyo Teas (3 oz. vodka, 2 oz. gin, 2 oz. rum, 1 oz. triple sec, 1 oz. Midori, good splash of lime juice, a slight splash of 7-Up (diet, of course), over ice with a lime wheel) with Pabst Blue Ribbon Extra 1844 chasers and Hangar One’s “Fog Point” vodka on the side, hiding from the brutish realities of this foul year of two thousand and twenty-something, Common Era…
I’ve already called Esme and we’ve had a good, long chat. She still managed to give me her shopping list for whenever I find myself bored on the Ginza.
She’ll be shocked when she learns that I’m not going to be in Tokyo long, but have 1st class tickets on the Bullet Train to Sapporo. Still, I’ll probably find myself in Pole Town or the Stellar Place there, trading piles of US greenbacks for locally produced Japanese curios and clothing.
I can hardly wait.
I order another round of drinks, as the wonderful attendants in the Hospitality Suite were bored out of their skulls because of the COVID-induced drop-in customers flying anywhere that requires a hospitality room stay, and I was virtually the only one around. They tried their level best to outdo each other when it comes to Japanese efficiency and friendliness.
After a couple of hours, they ask if I would like something from the grill, as the day chef had “the COVID” and the night chef just arrived. A quick perusal of the menu and I chose a 28-ounce dry-aged Porterhouse and another round of drinks.
I usually don’t like to eat too much before I fly, but JAL tells me the flight is going to be virtually empty, something like <121 pax, all told, so restroom availability shouldn’t be too much of a concern.
Plus, who am I to say no to a free, blue 28-ounce dry-aged Porterhouse?
There was a bit of difficulty conveying to the chef through the intermediaries of the hospitality just how I wanted my steak.
“Blue,” I said.
“Brue?” was the reply.
“Rare. Very, very rare.” I continued.
Look of total bewilderment.
I drag out my Personal Language Pro, speak “Steak, very, very rate” into the infernal gizmo, and hand the contraption to the attendant.
“珍しい、非常に珍しいステーキ?”[ Mezurashī, hijō ni mezurashī sutēki?]
“Raw! Nama!” I say, louder than need be.
They toddle off to find the chef.
“How is it sir, that you would like your steak cooked?” he asks.
“Very rare. Just a minute or two per side. Inside still cold.” I instructed.
All I got for the trouble was a puzzled smile.
“Give me the language gizmo…” I type in a few words…
“お尻を洗い、角をノックオフして、ここから出してください”
[O shiri o arai,-kaku o nokkuofu shite, koko kara dashite kudasai.]
“Wash its ass, knock its horns off, and walk it out here.”
“OH!” as the lightbulb pops. “Rare. Got it! Excellent!” the chef laughs and zips back to the kitchen.
Like I always say, I’m nothing if not the international ambassador of amity and goodwill.
“Crack tubes!”
Dinner was fantastic. I do wish I could have somehow mailed the Porterhouse bone back home for Khan. After that hambone incident, he might even taste it.
Finally on the plane, in an almost empty Business Class, the flight captain informs us that we’re headed to Haneda Airport Tokyo and anyone not headed in that direction better ‘haul ass off’ the flight or forever hold their peace.
Late-night international flights tend to be a bit more wooly than your average Chicago to Omaha gig.
Especially when the flight’s damn near empty and we have the next 12 hours or so to be best friends.
We taxi, turn and head into the wind. I’m doctoring up a couple of dossiers and keeping my personal cabin attendant, Luna since there were two of us in Business and two business flight attendants, busy with her trying to play ‘Stump the Geologist’.
“I’ll bet you never had this before.” She beamed and handed me a tumbler of very dangerous-looking brown liquor.
I cautiously sniff, take a modest gulp, swirl and glug the rest down.
“Ohishi Single Sherry Cask”, I say with a muffled belch. “Light. Fruity. An Englishman’s drink.”
“Oh. You knew. Let me try again.” She smiles beatifically.
“I have no objections to your proposal.” I smile as nicely as this crotchety old Komodo Dragon could.
She returns with another flagon of spirits; it smells of obsidian, leather, and earth.
I just had some of this back in LAX. I take a snort, smile, and shotgun the rest.
“Hibiki Japanese Harmony…lovely stuff.” I smile. “A little light for my jaded palate, but I’d never turn it down if it were free.”
“Oh, you win again. Wait. One more.” She smiles and skitters off to the galley.
She returns with another soupçon of some more dangerous brown liquor.
“Here, try this. It will make you very popular at social gatherings”. She smiles.
Sniff. “Splendid.” Snort. Swirl. Smile. Shotgun.
“Kanosuke New Born, if I’m not mistaken.” I smile back. “Very nice. I really do like this one.”
“You too good at this. One more!” she stands and stomps off defiantly. She returns in a trice and hands me the glass.
“Hmm…brown. Light notes of earth, leather, dating your daughter, and Kentucky…
“Beam Suntory, right?”
“You know them all!” she says, feigning irritation.
“And I thank you. Those were all excellent. Now, anything in the dangerous clear liquor category? I asked.
Luna smiled as I palmed off a 20k yen tip.
“Oh, no sir. Wait until we land.” She demurred, referring to the gratuity; which is know is not de rigueur in the Orient, but she didn’t seem to mind.
“Just in case we never make it to Tokyo”, I laughed, unknowingly presciently.
We both chuckled about that last line as she tried out various sakes and shōchūs and an actual Japanese ‘White Liquor’ (ホワイトリカー), which were all excellent as was the company.
I tell her that I need to get some work done and could she bring me a tall Rocknocker. After explain the origins and construction of the eponymous drink, she brings me one that must tip the scales at 1 or so liters.
She settles down to an empty seat and I get after the work that I need to finish before we land. I’m about ½ way through my drink when it felt as if the plane hit a brick wall. She quivered and quaked and clutched at herself while I made some comments about the pilot’s mental health.
We dropped like a paralyzed falcon, then just as suddenly, felt like it was an express elevator to Angel’s 11. The plane bucked and shimmied, wickedly. Then we slam-danced right and fell a few more stories. It was like we were in a Mixmaster and the owner was trying out every speed.
The emergency lights in the 777-300ER popped on, and the fasten seat belt sign barked loudly so even sleeping travelers could enjoy the show.
Rinse. Spin. Shudder. Repeat.
Finally, the ride smooths out and we hear the captain on the blower.
“This is your captain speaking…ah, we seem to have hit some uncharted turbulence back there.”
“Thanks, Captain Obvious”, I muttered.
“Everything’s A-OK. “ he reports.
“That’s good”, I note.
“But…”
“There’s always the but…” I groan.
“…we have a couple of warning lights for which we can’t quite account. So to just be safe and certain, we’re going to divert to Hawaii, get a clean bill of health and resume this flight once we make sure everything here is hunky-dory.”
There were scattered groans and applause. Add them together and divide by two and the average response on the flight was “Meh. Whatever.”
Except for the other guy in Business, with whom I hadn’t shared two words. He began to absolutely lose his shit.
“Oh, man! We’re so screwed! Mechanical malfunction? What does that mean?” he positively fizzed with fear.
The flight attendants tried to calm him down, to no avail. They basically gave up and said they’d report his misgivings to the Captain.
I motioned over to my personal flight attendant, Luna, and asked if I could be of service.
“Oh, Doctor Rock”, she smiled at me, “If you could speak with him. You are so calm, and he is…”
“Losing his bloody mind”, I chuckled as I finished her sentence for her. “Of course, I’ll take a stab at it.”
So, I grab my drink and ease over to my Business Class partner and introduce myself.
“Hey, pal. How’s it going? I’m Dr. Rock, gentleman, scholar, and connoisseur of cigars and things alcoholic. You doing OK?”
He looks at me with an ashen face and his eyes the size of bloodshot dinner plates.
“Yeah. I’m Todd Schotts. I’m flying to Japan for business.” He mumbles
“No surprise there,” I reply calmly and take a slug of my drink.
“But now we’re all going to die. The plane is busted and we’ll crash…” he started off again.
“So, Todd is it? Good. You drink?” I asked.
“Yeah?”, he stammered back.
I asked Luna to make us a fresh batch of my eponymous cocktails.
“OK, Todd, listen up”, I began after the drinks were served, “I have flown literally millions of miles over the last 4 decades. On Aeroflot when it was still the USSR. On TACA (Take A Chance Airways), on Chalk’s in the Caribbean, on Bob’s Verrifast Plane Company in Rhodesia, on regional carriers that don’t even exist anymore. All over the world. Had some bad experiences flying, and me ol’ mugger, this ain’t one of them. This is nothing more than the glitch for this mission.”
I chuckled lightly and complimented Luna on a fantastic drink.
“Yeah…yeah…yeah…but we have to land and check out some lights…” Todd squealed.
“Well now, Todd. It would be rather difficult to do any external assessment while in flight, don’t you agree?” I asked.
“But we’re diverting. We have to land and that adds more risk. We’re going to crash and die!” he was coming more and more unglued.
“I will bet you every cent you have on your person and home bank accounts that that will not happen”, I chuckled.
That took him by surprise. At least it shut him up for a while.
“Look, Todd. This is Boeing’s latest model. They have the most incredible safety record. And if a little clear air turbulence were to be knocking planes out of the sky, don’t you think we’d hear about it as the press went berserk?” I asked.
“But they don’t know what the lights mean! What if one of the engines’s out? How far can we fly on one engine?” Todd stuttered.
Having my fill of a supposedly grown man with inane childlike fears, I calmly replied,
“All the way to the crash site.”
He went white.
“...hope we hit something hard. I don’t want to limp away from this.”
He went limp.
Then I went to my seat and motioned for Luna to prepare a reload.
Of course, 45 minutes later, we land without incident at Daniel K. Inouye International Airport, Honolulu Hawaii.
We were told to just wait around until they figure out what the problem if any, was.
They had officials waiting at the end of the jetway to check our COVID status and passports before they let us loose in the terminal.
I asked Luna if she knew this airport. She noted that she did.
“Is there a JAL hospitality room here at this airport? I asked.
“Yes, Doctor. It’s the Sakura Lounge. It is located on the third level above The Local, Terminal 2.” She replied.
“Please notify whoever needs to know that that’s where I’ll be for the duration”, I smiled and handed her my business card. “See you soon, I hope.”
“Oh, Dr. Rock”, she replied, “I am sure it is nothing much. We’ll be back in the air within mere hours.”
“Well then”, I smiled, “Guess I’d better get ready to hoof it to the lounge.”
“Oh, Doctor Rock”, she smiled, “No rush. I will call for you a courtesy cart. You are injured, you are Business, you are priority.”
“I love that Asian efficiency.” I smiled back and toddled down the jetway.
At the terminus of the jetway, I show my COVID-clear papers, dates and times of my Anti-Virus vaccine administrations, the letter from Virginia clearing me of all detention, and my red Russian diplomatic passport.
While in the cart, whizzing our way to the JAL lounge, the driver said “Man! You must be some kind of VIP. You were through that welcoming committee in less than two minutes!”
“Me? Nah!”, I chuckled, “Just an old phart of a geologist that they didn’t want to mess with. Not on such a bright, sunny day as this.”
“I see you’re not wearing a mask.” The driver quipped.
“Very observant. There are reasons for that.” I replied.
He careens around a corner and if this were a normal pre-Covid day, I’m certain we’d have killed hundreds. However, the airport, as I’ve come to grow accustomed to, was virtually deserted.
“Yeah? Like what?” he asks.
“Well, Scooter, 1. I have an active and hardworking immune system that I let off the chain every once in a while for exercise. Got to let it know what it’s up against, right? 2. I’ve had all my shots and some that were experimental. They seem to have worked. And 3. I find it difficult to drink and smoke cigars while wearing a mask. However, if you’d prefer, I will mask up. No problem, though it still is optional.”
“Nah, man”, he said, “I was just wondering if you were one of those religious idiots or conspiracy nuts.”
Nope”, I smiled back, “Just another geologist out in the world plying his trade for cash. Y’know, whorin’ around for money.”
He laughs aloud as we skid to a stop right in front of Lounge.
I slip the guy a $20 and ask if he’d listen for the JAL flight I was just on. If we’re going on ahead today, I’d need him to scoot by and putt-putt me back to the plane.
He laughs and pockets the $20 as quick as a mink ruts.
“No worries. I’ll just hang around this area. I hear anything about the flight, I’ll come and let you know.” He grins.
“Good man”, I say, as I hand him my card. “I’m Dr. Rocknocker. Call me Rock”.
“And I’m Kapula Mano, call me Kap” he replies.
“Good man”, I say again, “Hope to see you in a while.”
He grins, floors his electric cart, and peels out at speeds approaching 4.5 MPH.
I wander into the lounge, show my credentials, and am escorted to a post up on Mahogany Ridge.
The bar is very quiet. Besides the bartender, I can’t see anyone else in the darkened and Smooth Jazz-infused drinking emporium.
I order a local drink, a Mai Tai, just for the experience and something a bit different.
It’s served in a goldfish bowl on a stem, bedecked with a slice of lime, a sprig of mint, a stick of sugar cane, a polychromatic orchid, and the obligate paper umbrella.
“Ah. Mai Tai. I will enjoy it.” I said to no one in particular.
One was enough, and I decided to go back to the old standard. Once I explained to the bartender what that was, he made them heroic and enthusiastically.
I’m reading up on a random dossier, making notes in a new file, and puffing away on a Fuentes Onyx double Maduro Churchill cigar.
I hear a slight cough coming from my right, and this here lovely lady, she sat to my immediate starboard and looked at me semi-quizzically.
Not in the mood for shenanigans of any stripe, I give her the obligate Baja Canada nod and tilt of the drink. I return to my dossiers and continue to read and take notes.
“Excuse me!” I hear.
Fearing the worst, either the woman is Karen-oid anti-smoking or a religious fruit-and-nutburger, I slowly turn to face her and reply, somewhat glacially, I have to admit.
“What?”
“That cigar…”
“Here we go…” I mutter, eyes rolling northward.
“Smells exquisite. Could you tell me the brand? My husband would enjoy some like that.” She notes.
Instantly my demeanor switches 180^0.
“Yes, ma’am. It’s an Arturo Fuentes Onyx. Churchill size, or 60 ring x 7” length, double Maduro. Here, take one for your husband. I have an ample supply.” I smile.
“Oh, no. I couldn’t. Could I?” she asks.
“Please. I insist.” I smile the best I could given the circumstances.
“Thank you. You’re too kind…umm…Mr….?”
“Doctor. Doctor Rocknocker. World traveler, oilman, and international ambassador of amity, good drinks, and fine cigars. Call me Rock” I said.
“Oh! A Doctor?” she brightens.
“Yes, of Petroleum Geology and Engineering. Not medicine.” I chuckle.
She chuckles back.
“And I am Hella Aaberg”, as she offers her hand for a quick shake.
“Interesting name, Hella. Scandinavian or Old German heritage?” I ask.
“On my father’s side. He’s Finnish.” She replies.
“But I’ll wager your mother is not Scandinavian, correct?” I ask.
“She was from Truk, an island…”
“In the South Pacific, Micronesia. Was she from Weno city?” I asked.
“Why yes. How could you possibly know that?” she asked.
“Oh, I’ve been there. Great diving amongst the WWII wrecks. I think it’s actually called ‘Chuuk Lagoon’ or something like that now.” I said.
“That’s right! Amazing. Where else have you been?” she asked.
“Anywhere there’s oil, strife, booze, cigars, heavy explosives and typically long distances from whatever most normal people call civilization,” I replied with a chuckle.
Suddenly, I hear a voice booming out behind me.
“Why don’t you save that rapier-like wit for those musky-fuckers back home, Rocko?”
My expression changes. My eyes pop fully wide open.
“Hella?” I asked.
“Yes?”
“May I ask you a favor?”
“You can ask…”
“Thank you. Now, looking over my shoulder, is there a hulking goon of a person, thin up top, paunchy halfway down with the most ridiculously tiny sized shoes you’ve ever seen for a so-called grown man?” I ask.
“Yes. Yes, there is.” She replies.
“I thought so. Many thanks.”
I spin and launch off my barstool and grab Toivo by the hand. He hadn’t seen my left-hand Thagomizer yet.
“Toivo! You old sumbitch. What the flying fennec fox fuck are you, of all people, doing in Hawaii?” I laughed.
“Just keeping an eye on you, Rock!” he laughed equally as loud.
“No, fucking-A, seriously. What the actual fuck? What are you doing in this actual nice place?” I asked.
“Just headed to Tokyo to conduct a bit of service company business. I walked into the lounge and smelled a foul cigar. I figured it can’t be the venerable Dr. Rocknocker. He’s back at some school up north terrorizing geology and engineering grads and undergrads.” Toivo laughed.
“But there I was. Surprise!”, I laughed and pumped his hand.
“What the fuck, Rock. Now what did you do?” he asks, referring to my Ankylosaur tail club left hand.
“Ah, fuck. Long story. Oh, pardon me. Toivo, this is Hella. We were just talking about the South Seas Islands.” I said.
“Planning on running off together?” Toivo laughs, to the amusement of neither party.
“Oh, and this idiot is Toivo, a man with a congenital foot-in-mouth disorder. He’s mostly harmless.” I noted to Hella.
Greetings were shared all around. Hella made some small excuses and said she needed to depart. I gave her another cigar for her husband, shook her hand, and wished her well.
“Here’s my business card. If your husband has any questions, have him drop me a line.” I noted.
Hella smiled beautifully. She said she would. Then she thanked me shook our hands, and like that, there she was, gone.
“Well Toivo, you old bastard. Don't just stand there in the doorway like some lonesome goddamn mouse shit sheepherder, get your ass over here and have a drink.” I motioned over to my perch on Mahogany Ridge.
“Don’t mind if I do”, he says as he deftly winds his way to a seat to my left, snagging a cigar out of my pocket on the way over.
“You might want these”, I say in an exasperated tone, and hand him my gold Dunhill Hobnail lighter and V-cutter gizmo.
He cuts and fires up his heater.
“What you drinkin’, Rock”, he asks.
“Anything with alcohol, as usual. You know that Toiv.” I reply.
“No. I mean right now.” He clarifies.
“Well, I had a Mai Tai. Very nice if you like fruity, flowery drinks. It’s the locals’ favorite.” I reply.
“Sounds good. I’ll have several. And you?” Toivo asks.
“My usual. The bartender is already apprised of the situation.” I reply.
Toivo smiles the smile of one knowing his sobriety is going to be taken out for a swim. Hell, taken out and tossed into the deep end.
Toivo and I sit there, swapping lies, smoking cigars and sipping at our toddies.
Hell, Toivo was slurping them like a sump-pump during an extra-wet summer.
We chattered about family, work, whether or not Tokyo was going to host the Olympics or if the COVID-boogie man scared everyone off.
Toivo, always one afflicted with TB (“Tiny Bladder”) got up to go to the loo for the third time that hour. He left his pocket organizer on the bar and I swear on a stack of Origins of Species, I didn’t touch it.
I reached over to his vacated seat to retrieve my cigar lighter when I looked down and saw in his organizer a tab that reads “Rack & Ruin”.
“Oh. No. Fucking. Way.” I recoiled as I’d just reached out and petted a 6-foot hungover scorpion.
“One of my best friends? Secretly allied with the Agency? No. Not possible.” I drained my drink and called for another.
“No. No. No. It can’t be. No. No fucking way…” as doubt began to dissolve when I thought back to all those times I had just ‘run into’ Toivo.
“But he’s oil patch as well. That could be chalked up to coincidence.” I ruminated quizzically in my brain.
I quickly reflected back on J.M. Darhower: “Yes, you see, there’s no such thing as coincidence. There are no accidents in life. Everything that happens is the result of a calculated move that leads us to where we are.”
She may be the author of the execrable New Adult Sempre series, which Esme likes and I loathe, but she might just be right on this occasion.
Toivo return, lighter in the bladder and good sense. He never even noticed he’d left his organizer out in broad bar light for all to see.
“So, Toivo, when’s your flight?” I ask.
“Oh, man. Was I lucky. The JAL flight to Tokyo from Los Angeles had mechanical trouble and had to divert here. I got a ticket on the plane for that flight, when it continues.
“You mean ‘if it continues’,” I replied.
“Yeah. Yeah. That’s what I meant. Hey! Was that your flight?” he asks innocently. He’s really innocent of fieldcraft.
I decide to have some fun at my old friend’s expense.
“Yep. Hit some CAT (Clear Air Turbulence) and the JAL pilots reported some lighting problem. No apparent ruin to any of the systems. They relay racked their brains to figure it out, but they couldn’t that’s why I here.” I said, waiting for the words to swim upstream in Toivo’s coconut and make some sort of connection.
“Yeah. Double lucky. No problem with the plane and I get to go to Japan early.” Toivo crookedly grins.
“So, no trouble with the plane? Then why haven’t I heard that the flight’s going to resume?” I asked as I pushed a fresh, seriously strong drink to Toivo.
“Oh, must have heard it in the john.” Toivo countered and tried to cover his tracks by taking a huge gulp of his drink and damn near dying coughing.
I pound on Toivo’s back.
“Heimlich time?” I ask.
Toivo signals ‘no’.
“Jesus Christ, Rock. What was that?” he asks.
“Just my usual”, I innocently replied.
“Holy fuck. No wonder you have the reputation of…” Toivo realizes too late that he’s said too much.
“Yeah. They can rack you out. Really ruin a person if they’re not careful.” I reply icily.
“Why, Rock. Whatever do you mean?” Toivo slurred as he realized he’s been caught out.
“The jig is up, you turncoat. You know Agents Rack and Ruin from the agency. Right? You keeping tabs on me for them? You Quisling! You Benedict Arnold!” I almost was on the verge of losing my cool.
“It was nothing. They approached me years ago as I kept being mentioned in your reports. They asked me for some information. One thing leads to another…” Toivo was ready for an Ankylosaur tail club swat to the bean.
“Oh, put your fucking hands down, you asshole.” I smiled and chuckled.
“You’re not mad?” Toivo slurred badly. I had the bartender make him another special drink.
“No, Toivo. Not mad. Just disappointed.” I said, smiling like a Komodo Dragon just finishing up a fortnight-old wildebeest.
Toivo sat there and puzzled and puzzled until his puzzler was sore.
“You’re not going to kill me or anything rude like that?” Toivo asked, half-assedly trying to inject humor into the proceedings.
“Nah. The paperwork’s too ridiculous for me to do another liberation. But, Jesus Fucking Christwagons, Toivo; you could have mentioned it to me. Fuck, I thought we were friends to the end?” I said, dejectedly.
I was really getting through to Toivo. I could tell he was loaded; feeling like shit and massively deplorable.
Great fieldcraft, indeed.
I told him things “are what they are” and that I won’t blow his cover nor his honorarium.
He began to feel better. I often wonder if he was serious about the sanctioning thing.
Then I delivered the strategic missile strike.
“Just remember, Toivo. I wrote your dossier for the Company…”
He swivels to look at me.
“And one for the KGB. Olga says ‘howdy’.” I grin evilly.
Toivo short-circuited at that. Russia is his company’s bread and butter. Now he has the KGB as well as his best buddy looking over his shoulder at every move.
I bought him a few more drinks and continued to needle him about his ’leading a double life’. He was well and truly fuckered when the electric tap-tap driver from before came looking for me to whisk me back to the plane.
Seems it was simply some knocked-out wires on the plane, or slammed bulbs that were generating a false positive, indicating something other than the system that alerts one to something haywire went haywire.
Toivo was pretty much down for the count. I got him sober enough to hand them his ticket and ensure that he was really supposed to be on this flight. Thing was; h e was in Economy, and I was, as always, in Business.
I spoke to Luna, and the plane was going to be even less crowded than previously because some folks could or wouldn’t wait, or didn’t want to go on with the rest of the trip on a ‘damaged’ aircraft, or were just stupid and superstitious.
“Luna, could I pay for the difference between Business and Economy for my less than 100% conscious friend here? He’s had a rough day.” I asked.
“Dr. Rock. Just put him into Business. No one will be the wiser. Luna says so.” As she gave us a grand smile.
“Luna, I owe you. Thanks so much.” I said.
“Now get on board. Your friend looks like he needs all the downtime he can get.”
“Yes, ma’am!” I said and saluted here be best I could which dragging a schnozzled Toivo down the jetway.
I dumped Toivo in a window seat well away from my seat. I know Toivo. He snores like a semi-load of live hogs rocketing downhill locking up the brakes at 88 MPH.
Surprise! There was no one else in Business. Luna looked at me, at Toivo, and gave me a thumbs up.
Whatever I can write to further her career at JAL, she’ll have it before I deplane.
We finally get everyone settled, and with Captain Kangaroo at the helm, we bounced gracelessly off the tarmac, into the warm, tropical Hawaiian air, finally headed for the Land of the Rising Sun.
Toivo was snoring like a chainsaw hitting rusty nails as I worked on the various letters, communiques, and dossiers which needed updating before we reached touchdown. I gave Luna a thick letter with instructions not to open it until we were on the ground and Toivo and I were well off and away into the terminal.
We left Hawaii at 1300 hours, so we should arrive at Tokyo Nareda around 4:00 pm, the previous day. I was so bereft of time and time zones, I couldn’t figure out what time it really was, as judged by my biometric rhythms, so I asked Luna for a stiff drink as I was kicking off my boots and going to attempt to get some kip.
She brought me another liter or so eponymous drink. I was sawing logs by the time I slurped the last swig of that nifty drink.
Suddenly, or later, I have no idea really, some loudmouth drunk asshole from way-the-fuck-back in economy-land toward the ass end of the plane staggered into Business demanding free drinks.
Luna was nothing but civil, and asked him to both shut up and return to his seat. His air cabin hostess, or whatever the fuck they’re calling them these days, will attend to his needs.
“Naw they won’t! They want me to pay for more drinks! I’m broke but I demand more booze! You fucking owe me.” railed the asshole. “I sat at the bar in Hawaii for four hours. Them fuckers charged me an arm and a leg!”
“No, they don’t owe you shit”, I said in a voice that unmistakably loud and clear.
“Fuck you, old man! You stay the fuck out of this!” he bellowed. “Shut up or I’ll do ya’!”
“’Old man’? ‘Do me’? Excuse me. Luna, may I have a word alone with this individual?” I asked sweetly.
Luna shook her head in the affirmative, and I stood up to confront this flagrant asshole.
“Now look, Scooter. You have gone way, way over the fucking line. You are loud. You are abusive. You are obnoxious. And you stink. Plus you insulted a person who is just barely containing his righteous wrath right now. So, I’m giving you one and one only chance to shut up, sit back down before your body spontaneously develops all sort of bruises, contusions, broken bones, and unconsciousness.” I said calmly, evenly, and threateningly.
“What da’ fuck you think you’re going to do…old man?” he screeched, trying to inflate himself into full mammalian threat posture, all 5’ 9” of it.
He didn’t notice Toivo walking up quietly behind him, as Toivo was returning from the head, quiet as a moose.
“Well, Scooter, I am an Air Marshall. Duly appointed, fully trained, and properly pissed off. Right now, I can arrest you, physically detain you, turn this flight around and take you to the Hawaiian police, at your cost for the inconvenience of the entire flight. Or I could arrest you, physically detain you, and turn you over to the Japanese authorities when we land. It’s really your choice. Choose wisely.”
To be continued…⇝

​
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NEXT
->>>-
The roar of the crowd hauled my awareness out of the abyss and into my prone form. My limbs were sluggish to respond as I shimmied and stretched myself awake, but something at the back of my mind told me to treat things with a sense of urgency.
Wait... roar of the crowd?
I cracked an eyelid and confirmed that I was nowhere near my bed. Scratch that, I'm not even near the living room couch.
Scuffed metal plates and rusted grating. What the hell?
I opened both eyes, and a booming voice nearly caused me to jump out of my skin.
"Look at that folks! Our competitor rejoins us in the world of the living! For now..."
The roaring ambience redoubled at the commentary. Whatever this is, it's filmed in front of a live studio audience. The speakers started out blaring gibberish, but it was quickly cut over by English. Must be some sort of translator in here.
I hauled myself into a sitting position and looked around with bleary eyes. This has gotta be a dream, right?
"Ah and now it moves! This, [ladies and gentlemen] is a bilaterally symmetrical [warm-blooded] pack omnivore from a little [yellow-sunned] backwater in the [Orion-Cygnus arm]. Let's hear a big round of applause for the retrieval crew folks. This particular specimen had a vicious quadrupedal guard-symbiont inhabiting its lair, and I am told the casualties were... significant."
If you did anything to my fucking dog I swear I'll...
"Alas, their sacrifices were not to be in vain. This will be quite a show, [people]. Remember folks, this species is from a truly out of the way system. We're going to be learning about this organism in real time alongside you. The science team tells me this thing is a true generalist, within a standard deviation of the average for intelligence, speed and strength. A lack of natural weapons is somewhat disappointing, but we're excited to see the ways in which it compensates.
That's great news for the fans. Our experts estimate this specimen will be in the 80th percentile for time-to-kill, which means incredible bang for your buck, folks. Really. People are going to be furious that they paid full price for next cycle's show when they see how long this one runs for. What a treat."
Time-to-kill? Fuck that, it's time to get some answers. I looked around, but I was alone in here. Announcer must be working from a booth somewhere. I addressed the rough centre of my cell.
"Hey, uh, announcer dude?"
Just as I began to worry that 'dude' might be sufficiently gender-specific to cause offense, the voice begins again.
"Your [audio senses] do not deceive you, folks. Our next contestant speaks!
Greetings, biped. Welcome to the Arena. You're a hapless primitive, so this is no doubt the single most impressive place you've ever seen."
So far as I can tell Roman architects had these guys beat 4000 years ago, let alone the guys who design the space casinos in New Vegas, but I'm just a hapless primitive so what the fuck do I know. It would just be snarky to interrupt him when he's on a roll.
"You have been granted the tremendous honour of being selected as a contestant for this cycle's iteration of The Ambling Sapient!"
Contestant? No way, pal. I didn't sign the release, and I am most certainly suing you the moment I can get in touch with my lawyer.
"Well, consider me... tremendously... honoured... by that, but what exactly does 'The Ambling Sapient' entail?"
The announcer chuckled disdainfully at that. I don't know where exactly one is supposed to punch disembodied voices, but his tone made me want to find out.
"Oh, you quaint little thing. The Ambling Sapient is the most thrilling, most visceral, most state-sponsored form of entertainment this side of the galaxy! Each cycle we take a smattering of primitives like you from undeveloped worlds across the [Skryrn Empire], bolster their ranks with the incarcerated, the destitute, and other dregs of society, and turn the whole lot of you loose in the Arena's urban simulator to contend with an army of our murderous bounty hunters. Last sapient standing wins! Unless it's a bounty hunter, which it usually is, in which case the Empire wins!"
The crowd went nuts again.
Fuck. I managed to sleepwalk my way into organized, alien bloodsport. My therapist is gonna have a fuckin' field day with this. Maybe I'll omit the 'drunken blackout' factor in my retelling.
"I didn't agree to this."
The smug bastard actually guffawed at this, like it was a goddamn affront I'd take issue with being drafted into playing the most dangerous game for some jagoff xeno emperor.
"Well no, you wouldn't have. If we cared what you thought you'd be a citizen of the Empire and you'd have actual rights and freedoms. We don't, because you're a shithead primitive from a civilization that can't even crack lightspeed, and we are like unto Gods to your puny backwater minds.
See folks, this is half of the fun for an old windbag like me. This little monkey is still coming to terms with the realization that any sense of agency it ever enjoyed was a condescending illusion.
There are greater forces at work in the galaxy, contestant, and you should be thankful to be borne along in their wake. This is an opportunity to transcend your ignominious existence and provide [minutes] of precious entertainment to a being so grand the very stars are shaped at his behest."
I was starting to get a pretty good idea of the sort of asshole I was dealing with, so I chose my next words very carefully.
"Gee, thanks. I'm humbled."
"Now I understand that this is simply an artifact of your flailing attempts at proto-language, but my auto-interpreter just tagged that with 'ambiguous tone'. Do you mind reaffirming for the cameras just how humbled you feel to have been selected for Lord Pha'Gouad?"
I hope the windbag's auto-interpreter caught the meaning of my smirk before I spat out my reply.
"Hell no. This sucks sweaty taint, and you people are fucking barbarians. The last 'enlightened' human civilization to practice bloodsport also openly practiced pedophilia. Tell Lord Fuckwad he can eat my ass, right after I win your stupid game show."
I could hear the gears failing to catch in the announcer's head as he struggled to process my little tirade.
"I... excuse me? Why you insufferable little... Lord... what does [copulation-gobbet] even mean?"
I couldn't help but chuckle as the smug douche went into fits. That'll teach the folks at home to watch with the kiddos.
"It's what I'm going to blow, in your mom, after I'm done winning this thing and skullfucking your boss."
"Cease this insolence AT ONCE!"
I'd better cool it with the snark lest they execute me before it even begins.
"You will remain silent whether you like it or not, contestant. I have cut your feed. I had intended to excite the audience for your brief tenure in the Arena, but now we're all united in hoping for your swift, painful death."
Sure, buddy. I bet half the people in here hope I stick it to your smug alien ass. Something tells me this Lord Fuckwad isn't exactly the pinnacle of statesmanship.
"We will begin ignoring you now. You will receive a final briefing from the holoscreen in your cell."
I flipped off the centre of the chamber and started stretching. There was no telling when the contest was going to start and I wanted to hit the ground running.
The holoscreen flared to life, projecting what was unmistakably one of those dry, HR-produced training videos into the air in a lattice of dancing light.
"Welcome, contestant. Please pay careful attention to maximize the entertainment provided to the good spectators of The Ambling Sapient."
I swear to God, these buffoons. They seriously added an echo and a thunderclap sound bite to emphasize the name of their stupid bloodsport. In their defense, whoever did the voiceover's monotone is bad enough that it might kill me via boredom before the door to my cell ever opens.
"Your containment cell will be lifted and deposited via field-friction directly into the Arena, where it will open in synchronicity with the cells of all other contestants. Bounty hunters will be waiting for you, and a second wave will be released an indeterminate amount of time after the contest commences. You must use your environment, and your own natural gifts to evade the bounty hunters and eliminate rival contestants."
I am not looking forward to killing other unwilling participants in this nightmare gameshow. Can't blame them for trying to off me though... I'll have to try and avoid everyone. Endurance is my most obvious natural gift, surely I can win this if I turn it into a war of attrition?
"This cycle's theme is [Marathon]. In each contestant's cell there is a totem. Any contestant who can deliver their totem to a totem-specific receptacle hidden around the Arena will be released from the competition. Contestants who do so forego any other potential contest rewards, and count as eliminated for the purpose of determining the contest's winner. They will be granted Proletariat-class membership in the [Skryrn Empire].
The totem will periodically emit light to help usher the contestant in the direction of the receptacle. The minimum distance-to-travel is a staggering [5500 metres], with some totem-receptacle pairs requiring as much as [7000 metres] of foot travel, thus ensuring that contestants who attempt to exit the contest are not able to do so trivially."
I try to maintain a cool exterior as inside my head I frantically celebrate being abducted by the laziest fucking aliens in the galaxy. I haven't had the wide-open space to run that I'd like to since I took that job starside, but my treadmill with elevation settings has done an admirable job of simulating the ground. I'm not 22 anymore, unless I want to identify as the number of alcoholic beverages I consume every weekend, but 5-7K is still a warm up and not a workout unto itself.
"That concludes our The Ambling Sapient tutorial video. Good luck, contestant."
The fucking thunderclaps. Good luck to you too, narrator, because if I get out of here I'm finding you and tearing out whatever passes for a larynx for your species, and I'm starting to get pretty darn confident that I'm getting out of here. At least the windbag with the audience had some theatrical flair.
The cell lurched suddenly and I tumbled to the ground. I suppose the tutorial ending should have been a clue, but I'm processing a lot right now. I can forgive myself for a small lapse in foresight. I braced myself so as not to slide across the floor as an undignified heap, but besides the inertia of their friction-fields or whatever grabbing my cell it was a relatively smooth ride.
I glanced around and spotted the totem. I think it must have been unlit before, or else I'm really not very perceptive while my brain is still waking up, because it was pretty much the cell's only obvious feature apart from the windows. It was a small baton, maybe a third of a metre in length and about as big around as a broom handle. It looked sturdy enough to hit someone with, I noted hopefully. If they arm me for my little warmup jog this will go down as the easiest life-or-death struggle in human history.
Eventually the sensation of motion stopped, and I only stumbled a little as my balance adjusted. I hefted the totem and, sure enough, it would make for a great bludgeon in a pinch. I wasn't sure what sort of electronics they packed into the thing, but resolved only to risk breaking my ticket out of here if the alternative was death.
The cell doors opened with a soft hiss. Swallowing the bubbling, subversive anxiety that was churning my guts, I stepped out into the streets of the Arena. The air smelled pretty much like a city's should. Dirty, artificially hot and packed with all the creatively diverse pollutants that any arrogant society is willing to lace their atmosphere with in the name of prosperity and advancement.
I was reasonably sure the ambient light level was increasing, which meant I had maybe half an hour before the sun first peeked over the Arena's artifical horizon. The totem lit up just once, projecting a faint beam of light off into the city streets.
Well, I thought, it's now or never. Time to show these assholes who they're messing with.
->>>-
NEXT

Patch notes

New:

• added the systems Eadu, Tion, Yaga, Formos, Oba Diah and Anoat;
• added the Kessel Run;
• added the Ganath Cloud nebula around Jilrua and Ganath;
• added a version flag to the map so we can easily see in which version it got created;
• added the 'Hutt palace of Teth' to Teth;
• added a toxic type IV atmosphere modifier to Quesh;
• added mineral deposits to Lythos I and Lythos XIV;
• added the tidally locked modifier to Lythos I;
• added the polluted modifier to Bonadan;
• added the 'University of Kalla' to Kalla VII;
• added a space casino to Cantonica;
• added logging for AI testing;
• added Vong greeting sounds;
• added Chiss male greeting sounds;
• added Chiss advisor voice;
• added Kaminoan male greeting sounds;
• added a new colony event (Spice Runners);
• added a bug report button to the ESC menu;
• added new name lists for Rebels, Imperials and Koorivar;
• added “Exemplary” to the Nebulon-B name list.

Changes:

• the systems Teth, Latn, Sriluur, and Quest start now as part of the Hutts;
• Teth and Sheheyron are colonized by the Hutts from the start;
• the system Mytus is now part of the CSA;
• the systems Cadomai, Lafra, Thosa, Lur and Tiss’sharl are no longer part of the CSA;
• Mytus VII is now colonized by the CSA;
• changed Mall’ordian planet type to crystalline;
• updated the Toydaria system to be lore accurate;
• changed Bonadan to a light ecumenopolis;
• changed Draethos to arid;
• moved the orbital shipyard from Desevro to Lianna on the canon map;
• changed Legacy System localisation;
• buffed environmental districts on ecumenopolis worlds to give 1 happiness each;
• changed starting buildings for Fallen Empires (new game required);
• removed the limit on dreadnought-type ships;
• nerfed empire size penalties significantly (were way over tuned from previous vanilla values that are now obsolete);
• changed the description of the Dagger of Mortis activation event;
• changed Void Hunter perk localisation;
• buffed FEs stations.

Fixes:

• fixed the 0% habitability option ignoring important planets;
• fixed a typo in the Maelstrom system and nebula;
• fixed the primitive species observation building fail text for requiring a primitive species and an observation outpost in the system;
• fixed Legacy system back buttons in unretirement;
• fixed Ancient Drones mining stations showing as colored boxes;
• fixed a bug where it was not possible to unretire capital ships;
• fixed FE's pops not taking normal jobs;
• fixed the KDY Prototype event picture;
• fixed medium hypermatter anomaly rewarding a small deposit;
• fixed Ion Cannon and Maser specialization descriptions;
• fixed being able to activate Dagger of Mortis without a force-sensitive general;
• fixed Cloud Cities getting Entertainment Districts if made resort worlds;
• fixed Uneti Sapling firing the wrong event;
• fixed being unable to test fire the Death Star on planetary diversity planets.

The party has come into a busy port and decide to visit some other ships. Who might they discover, what might they find?

d100 Interesting Ships in a Port

​

1. Shani and Aurora's Tent of Two - The two goblin sisters Shani and Aurora sail providing services to port settlements. Shani claims to be a seer and charges 60gp for a "reading" of the future (she is not). Aurora 'The useful one' provides the service of casting identify for 20gp. She may also agree to sell some of her extensive library if offered the right price. [dweeb_bush]
2. The Bones Brothers - The bones brothers are a travelling group of jolly bards. As their name suggests they are animated skeletons. Jimbo-double bass, Timbo-guitar, Limbo-vocals, Dimbo-marimba and Franky-drums. They are very hospitable and put on a show for anyone who comes and visits them! [dweeb_bush]
3. The Lovers - A small nondescript boat lies just off the dock. The is no sign of activity on board apart from the dock inspector who is trying to find out who's boat it is. The truth is the owners of the boat died ten days ago and the boat has miraculously drifted safely into port. on a successful DC 10 investigation or perception check the party members discover two young male elves cowering in the cannonball chest. When the lid is lifted they start begging for their life. If pressed they reveal that the crew was attacked by sirens, the majority of the crew succomed to the siren's calls however the two young boys, deeply infatuated with each other did not care for their temptation. They ran out of food last night and thought they were surely doomed! [dweeb_bush]
4. The Crows - A large black boat rests in port, neatly secured off one of the more expensive jettys. The most defining feature of the boat is that it is bustling with activity, not by humanoids but 3d12 black ravens. One wears a small captains hat and appears to undersatnd the party. If the party casts speak with animals they discover that the crows were awakened through a series of trials on a new spell aimed to mass awaken a group of creatures. The crows have varying degrees of intelligence and are all chaotic neutral alligned. The crows rebelled from, Hignory Flip, the wizard running the trials on a small island about 2 days sail from the port, and stole his ship. [dweeb_bush]
5. Captain Redbeak! - A suspicious longship hovers low on the water. There is a steady stream of humanoids entering the covered boat and leaving a few minutes later with a small package. The ship belongs to Captain Redbeak, a feirce pirate captain who runs a drug trade: the drug in question is a relatively cheap drug called "Peak Water" and is collected dew from mountaintops, it gives the user a high that lasts 1d4 hours and gives the user a d4 of bardic inspiration. It costs 10gp per hit. The ship is manned by 2d6 Bandits, and if threatened or reported they will attempt to kill the party in defence of their lives. [dweeb_bush]
6. Crazy Mr McGee - A delerious man stands warding off the dock guards with what looks like a loaded blunderbus. He's yelling about his notorious reputation as a savage pirate and keeps claiming they have come to "Take away my princess". The princess he's referring to is his boat- he imagines that it is a glourious gallion but in reality it's just a rowboat. If the party manage to subdue the man the dock guards thank them and offer to buy them a drink later that night in the tavern. [dweeb_bush]
7. A Con??? - The players are drawn to a commotion hidden behind a crowd of people. A large goliath (Manneo) seems to have taken a small dwarf (Skalgrouth) hostage and is threatening to slit his throat if the dock guard do not meet his demands "I'll bloody well kill 'im if you don't give me what I want: 100gp worth of rubies and free passage out of this shit hole!". In reality the goliath and dwarf are working together pulling off this stunt at various ports in the area, so far, to great success! [dweeb_bush]
8. The Rat's Den - The players follow a stream of rats on board a decrepid looking riverfairing vessel. When they make cross into the canvassed interior they see an old kobold playing the pipes, he seems to be a rat-catcher. If the party interrupt him in his ritual he turns the a swarm of rats against the party and runs off into the port. [dweeb_bush]
9. Seeking Refuge - A smallish sloop titled 'The Diamond Endeavour' pulls into port, it's sinking and fast! A crew member (Emery Green) jumps onto the dockside and is yelling for help. The vessel was struck by a great storm while at sea and they sustained damage when they brushed by a reef. Luckily they werent wrecked but unluckily they could not repair all the damage with materials on board. They've been bailing for hours and can no longer bail as fast as the ship is filling up with water! If the characters wish to help they can make a DC 13 group athletics check to bail enough water to stop the crew from having to jump ship and leave it to sink. If the players are successful Emery thanks them profusely and offers them a map to a shipwreck they were on the way to dive at before the storm hit them. "It's rumoured that this is the wreck of the old pirate lord, Feather Toothed Bill's ship and may hold riches beyond imagine!" [dweeb_bush]
10. The Gilded Sail - A group of merchants, all of various races, each offering unique, and expensive, magical trinkets. True to their name, their sail is actually a thin sheet of gold, and the rest of their ship is covered in valuable metals and gems. It’s also very well armed, as are the merchants aboard. Keep an eye on the rogue when this one’s around. [Dragon_Overlord]
11. The Patchwork - A large ship which seems to have been destroyed and repaired numerous times with whatever material the crew had, from birch wood to copper metal to even welded armor and weapons. Speaking of the crew, they appear to be a mishmash of Kenku, Kobold, Halfling, and the occasional Tabaxi and Goblin. The captain appears to be a raccoon by the name of Majos, which, if your party stumbles upon the question of why and how a raccoon is a ship captain, she would respond with “a salty mage who didn’t know how to win a simple game of cards had a tantrum.” She would then offer the party a game of cards in which if the party beats Majos, she rewards the party a hefty sum of 100 GP, and if any party member is any of the races listed above, she rewards an additional magic item (DM’s choice) and offers a position to the party member for them to join her crew. Accept and the party is taken to an additional encounter to an island for treasure. Decline is acceptable and Majos would accept any favor from the party. [SpyroAndToothless]
12. The Feyr Winds - An elegant ship that carries goods and treasures from far off Elven lands run by a mixture of elven and faerie creatures. Their most illustrious goods are fruits that can do many things such as heal wounds, cure poisons, or even granting stat bonuses for a minute! (Vendor: Fruits are magical and can take on the effect of any potion you want.) [OSpiderBox]
13. Gnasher's Maw - A tribal-ized longship driven by a "merry" band of lizard folk. They obviously don't understand personal space or social norms, and are seeking people to help them with a Giant problem. (Hook: if your party is having downtime while they look for their next quest, this could be that hook they need.) [OSpiderBox]
14. The Esteemed Steamboat - Artificers run this marvel of steam engineering. However... it's currently in a state of disrepair. Looks like heavy damage from some monstrosity. While they're extremely proficient in fixing it, they have no money and are looking for work to pay for supplies. (Allies: party could hire some of them for an upcoming task/adventure, or even offer to fund the repairs in exchange for favopassage.) [OSpiderBox]
15. The Mainstream (You’ll never need a bigger boat!) - A casino cruise ship featuring a large game room, several bars, comfortable rooms, a pool and a hot tub fueled by a continual flame spell. It is captained by a tall, brown scaled lizardfolk woman named Kepesk. The dealers are kenku bards repeating rules and barking (“Step right up, try you’re luck at the Wheel of the Goddess of Fortune!”) There is also a large vault of gold on board, guarded by lizardfolk soldiers. One particular patron is looking for a few helping hands for a bit of a caper now that he knows the guards patrol schedules. [spiff2]
16. Rocinante - A relatively fancy and expensive ship being up kept by the Quijano family and their servants. The last living member of the family is a young man, obsessed with swords and thirst for adventure. He agrees to let the team borrow the ship, in exchange for him coming with them on their adventures to wherever they’re going. [DrFishPhd]
17. Deep Blue - In a corner of the harbour, a seemingly empty ship. Sails are neatly furled, crew seems to have left the ship mere hours ago. On the deck, small openings allows the visitor to enter the hold, in it, some barrels, hammocks. Beside one of the hammock, a book, quite old, written in an old version of Common language.In the middle of the hold, some blankets cover a group of trunks, under these trunks, another opening ... leading to another hold. In this hold, vessels, old fashioned lanterns, and some parchment written in ancient language. At the bottom of a bulkhead, an opening, some stairs gong down in another hold.Wood seems ancient, and strange figures are carved into the wooden parts of the boats. Some ancient runes are covering pillars. In the middle of the hold, a panel with nails made of some unknown metal, once open, stairs going down in the dark. From the shadows, the noise of little splaches. [doctor_providence]
18. The Mosquito - Run by a crew of githyanki pirates. What seems like a normal battle vessel, once on the open ocean, the sails begin turning outward and suddenly the ship begins gliding above the waters surface at fast speeds. [GladiatorJustin]
19. The C.H.U.D.- The Shell of a massive deceased Dragonturtle floats next to the dock, it’s ends sealed by mechanical claws, and a viewport fitted into the front. The C.H.U.D. (Chelonian Hammerworked Underwater Dirigible) was designed by the Gnomish Inventor Hector Copperspark. Crewed by gnomes and halflings as they are the only ones small enough to man the complex machinery crammed into the turtle shell, the C.H.U.D. is a mercenary vessel that hires out to perform naval attacks. Hector just got a lead on a new job, and he needs some muscle to pull it off... [Lakandalwa]
20. The Temple - A ship that serves as a mobile temple to a water deity. It goes from port to port to carry services. [SMGB_NeonYoshi]
21. Cloudscraper - One of the gems of the Romish Empire's formidable fleet, the Cloudscraper is a powerful warship specially constructed for defeating sea monstrosities of all kinds. Developed after the Queen's late husband was killed by an island feeder (colossal sea beasts known for swallowing swaths of land whole), this vessel with an imposing tower-like bridge is loaded up with all types of harpoons, cannons, and magical armor. Some even say that, thanks to a powerful magical engine, the top half of the ship can separate from the brig to chase after flying beasts attempting to get away. With how famous it is, plenty of townsfolk are eager to get a look at the shining bronze beast of a boat. But what's it doing here of all places? [MildlyConcernedGhost]
22. The Wistful Wanderer - A small sloop with a single cabin in the middle of the deck. A skilled observer might note that the sails and rigging as well as the rudder occasional shift to right the ship or tighten and secure themselves more. The cabin is actually permanently enchanted with a Mordenkainen’s Magnificent mansion and the ship is handled by a permanent crew of 20 unseen servants. It is owned by the Wandering Wizard Wesley Wrycroft. He sails the world at his leisure, seeking trade for scrolls and arcane artifacts. He also regularly hires adventurers to gather difficult to reach artifacts from unworthy hands whenever he finds a lead on the location of such a relic. [Lakandalawa]
23. The Magic Brawler - A merchant ship with a very strong looking captain comes to port. If the party chooses to look at their items the captain will challenge the party to an arm wrestling match. Beating a DC 20 strength check will award the party one minor magic item from the captain's personal stash, and beating a DC 25 strength check will award a magic item of the DMs choosing. [TheInstitute4]
24. The Friend Ship - A comfortable looking wooden ship full of people just hanging out on the deck. While aboard this ship you find yourself under the effects of the Charm Person spell to make everyone friendly with each other. [Stormkiko]
25. The Dragon Ship - Captained by a Dragonborn with a dragon head on the prow, this ship is a merchant vessel crewed by a muscular Dragonborn who sits on the deck smoking a long pipe. The ship has put down for repairs after grazing a rock which tore a few holes in the starboard side. [AndreTheSalty]
26. Kender - A rag tag ship filled with swashbuckling Kender. The ship looks like it was made from bits and pieces of many different ships.The Kender are very drunk and have no idea how they got to this port. [Slainlion]
27. The Poor Captain - A ship that looks broken and near sinking, in truth it's one of the most armed ship on the seas. It uses help calls or just their non threatening look to lure ships close so that they can attack them. [DungeonsAndScouts]
28. The Fisticuffs- A medium sized rowdy ship sits a little way out from the dock. The ship has two massive hands stemming from the hulls on long mechanical arms. The hands have an AC of 25, a damage threshold of 5, and 30 health each. They ship can leave the water and "walk" on the hands. The ship is primarily a combat ship and is crewed by a band of mischevious gnome tinkerers. In addition to attacking (+10 to hit: 4d6 + 8 bludgeoning damage) the hands can also cast Bigby's hand once per day. [dweeb_bush]
29. The Grain Barge - A large barge with a dirt floor and wheat growing. A single old man lives on the barge, and sells wheat for 2 pountds per copper piece. In the hull of the barge, accessible only by a trapdoor in the old man's shack, is a large pile of carrots. [serious_tabaxi]
30. Sea Rot - A large gallion speeds into port with a yellow flag raised. As soon as they dock and have paid the docking fee the captain, a large half-orc woman called Mishka, starts calling for help! She reveals that over half of her crew has contracted a strange plague and she fears for her life. She came to port to seek medical assisstance but fears she is infected so dares not go ashore.The plague - Sea Rot - Is highly contagious and air-borne: if a creature comes within 5ft. of an infected creature they must succeed on a DC 17 Constitution save or become infected themself, symptoms take 1d10 days to manifest. The symptoms of Sea Rot are gruesome, starting with the extremities of the body, the body starts depositing water in cytoplasm-like sacks. At the end of every long rest the creature takes 2d6 cold damage and must succeed on a DC 13 Constitution save or suffer 1 permanent constitution damage, the infected creature also has disadvantage on strength and dexterity checks. It can only be cured by magical means that remove a disease.If the party fetches help she rewards them with a small favour and a pouch full of gemstones worth 50gp, in addition, if the party can cure the 20 crew members and contain the plague she offers them passage anywhere, offers an additional 100gp, and her cutlass- a +1 scimmitar that also increases the holder's charisma by 2 while holding it. [dweeb_bush]
31. Grok's Galley - A medium-sized ship piloted by a Tortle named Grok(He Understands Things)11. The ship is a 2 sailed vessel with few cannons and other wartime mechanisms on them. The crew is very resilient and full of ragtag non-humaniods. Gnolls, Dragonborn, Ratfolk etc.He's about to set sail back home as he's heard of this group of ratfolk that are trying to overthrow the government in his home town. [VKilledTInternet]
32. The Abigail - An old warship thought to be lost that had been renovated and turned into an inn. It’s run by two very attractive siblings, who turn out to be sirens and one night, they take the boat out to the sea and eat all the passengers. [TardyTortoise]
33. The Comfort - This massive galleon is an independent freebooter that refuses to pay allegiance to any nation or city. Housing a collection of skilled healers and clerics, the Comfort sails to areas struck by famine, plague, and war, providing healing to whomever requests it. The sailors aboard the vessel have all sworn the same oath, to defend the healers and their patients with their lives no matter the cost.While the Comfort usually is accepted at any port, it sometimes comes under attack when it travels to war torn regions and as such is well equipped to defend itself should it come under attack. [Lakandalawa]
34. Arabian Traders - An exotic merchant vessel filled with silks, spices, and strange spirits is disembarking. A dashing arabian prince asks basic questions about the city, potentially becoming enamored with one of the party members. He is rich and slightly crazy, and believes anything can be bought for a price. This gets him into trouble when he tries to buy someone's hand in marriage to add to his collection of luxuries and many wives back in his home port. [jfractal]
35. Deep Sea Scavengar - Salty, untrustworthy sailors (who look like pirates) are disembarking/unloading from their latest voyage. They have been at sea for months, and haven't seen a woman in that long - they openly hit on and jeer at any females in the group with a CHA score of 11 or higher. One sailor tells a fanciful story about sirens that they encountered on their voyage, killing 3 of their men (it's hard to tell if they are serious or not). [jfractal]
36. His majesty's secret - A heavily outfitted, small warship is in a secret mission from the king. Heavily armed/armored guards stand watch over the docks, turning away everyone, and refusing to divulge their purpose here. [jfractal]
37. Smallminded Yokels - A small, local fishing vessel filled with xenophobic, small-minded fisherman. The make disparaging remarks about any non-humans if approached. If the party gives them lip, they will get jumped by the crew the next time they wander the harbor at night. [jfractal]
38. Mussel's Mate - A large fishing vessel that has seen it's better days. Rigging is in tatters, masts are spliced together, mismatched patchworks sails. Oddly enough the captains quarters are extremely well apportioned not at all like the rest of the ship. [hamlet_d]
39. The Wayward Lady - This ship has an all female crew. The species on board are the outcasts from different lands. They serve as a place for any who are lost to have a home, though men don't tend to stay for long for some reason. After a successful DC 20 insight check it can be found that men on board the ship for 4 months become women. [42firehawk]
40. The Gypsy - On the deck is what appears to be a stage where beautiful female dancers perform to music provided by a small band of bards. One of the dancers, who is known as the Storyteller, tells stories through song as the rest of the dancers provide her the visuals/backup dancing. Her voice is noticeably quite low for a woman, but is very enchanting nonetheless. An insight check with a DC20 will reveal that all of the performers are cross-dressing men. [Crystalized13]
41. The Stable - A ship of decent size that carries horses (or any other kind of mount in your game) from port to port and sells them at a decent price to tired and/or injured travelers. It is crewed by a family of six (mother is the captain, father, three sons, three daughters) and a few extras the gathered along their journey, namely; a nice old man who wants to see the world, a young woman with a fiery attitude and an obvious crush on one of the party members, a muscular Dragonborn who has obviously seen some action who now tends to the horses, a bard who offers entertainment to the crew on board and is particularly liked by the children, a mute Druid who helps the horses and is good friends with the Dragonborn (who interprets their sign), and an ex-pirate who loves the sea but wishes to leave their past behind them. [Crystalized13]
42. The Penny Bucket - The penny bucket is barely a ship. It's looks like a wash-bucket with a wooden T nailed to it and has a large white shirt as a sale. As far as you can tell there's no way to steer, its an utter mystery to you how it ended up in port, let alone why the dock authority would charge it to dock. When you peer inside the bucket you see a small red pseudodragon peacefully sleeping on it's hoard, which consists of 3pp, 16gp, 103sp, and 56cp, 6 rubies worth 30gp, and a dusty diamond worth 300gp , and a small magical trinket of the DM's choice. If woken up the Pseudodragon wakes up and fiercely snarls , cowering, and protecting its stuff. The dragon will trade any of the items in its hoard if the adventurers offer something of value, or a large amount of food. If the party wants to adopt the dragon along with it's hoard it may be won over with gifts and a DC18 animal handling check. [dweeb_bush]
43. The Crafty Raft - A makeshift raft has floated down the coast and slammed into the dock. There is no one on board and it appears to be unmanned. There is a note fixed to the mast with a tiny butterknife. The note has directions, "at the lightning stump follow the stream and rescue us". The raft, and attached note were made by crafty goblins attempting to lure creatures down the coast right into a trap. The goblins have made finding their hideout incredibly easy. With a DC 5 nature (tracking) check the party can find the tree and follow it down to the river. The real trap is a series of pitfall traps cleverly hidden in and around the stream. If the adventurers continue along the stream they must succeed on a DC18 Perception check to avoid it and must succeed on a DC14 Dexterity save or fall 10ft. into spikes and take 1d6 bludgeoning damage and 2d6 piercing damage. They are then accosted by 2d4 goblins. [dweeb_bush]
44. The Illusory Boat - Moored in the port is a huge gleaming golden pirate ship, there must be at least 50 richly dressed halflings manning it. There's a long gangplank extending to the dock. Suddenly there's the noise of several cannons firing off. The guards rush over to the ship, fearing that they are attacking the port. They scream at the ship- "come down here and speak to us you cowards, we can't board your ship without permission but we will call the town guard!" A voice calls from the ship yelling insults at the guards aiming to infuriate them till they board the boat. If any one steps on the gangplank they must succeed on a DC 14 Dexterity save or fall into the water, as they do the ship dissapears and it's revealed that the entire ship is a major illusion cast by three giggling wizards who run away from one of the neighboring piers. [dweeb_bush]
45. The Question - There's a metallic ship floating in the water. From it you hear loud beeping, chirping, and whirring noises coming from it and it's attracted a large crowd of 3d10 townsfolk, who are fearfully inspecting the ship. As you approach closer you begin to hear a voice in all the artificial noises. You hear it asking thousands of questions, in thousands of voices: "who am I?", "why am I here?", "What's that ugly thing over there?", "what is the meaning to life", "Why are there people watching me?", and other creepy remarks that give the idea that the ship is conscious and scared. When the adventurers look into the boat they see a blinking green, light with a swirling marbled texture on it. The light turns red and starts asking questions very specific to the party. Before long it begins speaking in tongues and a flash of blinding light appears. The adventurers make a DC13 constitution save. On a failed save they are blinded for a minute and take 4d4 psychic damage or half as much on a successful save. When the adventurers look again the ship is gone and there is just a small gemstone floating in the water, whispering to the party in tongues that are unintelligible. [dweeb_bush]
46. The mistake -A small boat that seems to have been renamed fairly recently. The - ake part of the name is in a different calligraphy and color from the rest of the name [Ido97]
47. The Barnacle - An old weathered gun-ship bearing it's scars from many a battle, but nevertheless being no worse for the wear. Built strong from some ancient hardwoods and it has been well maintained to the best a ship of that age could be. The crew is a rowdy bunch of salty Dawgs that work as hard as they play...and they fight even harder. They may squabble amongst themselves, but don't you dare mess with or insult one of their brotherhood. They have come to port ready to sell their wares, collect their bounty and spend it irresponsibly. All so they can find their next mission and do it all over again. [gothic03]
48. The Bauntoo - A strange ramshackle ship occupied by amphibious humanoids that spend near their entire lives out at sea, trade in weird cool stuff they've found deep diving into cool underwater locations like ocean ruins, and wont be at port for long. [Swerve-Bro]
49. The Leviathan - A huge ship listing hard to one side, its mast broken halfway up and the sails drooping to the deck. All of the wood is dark brown, slimy and rotting out. It looks like someone pulled a shipwreck from the bottom of the sea and it remained afloat by some miracle. If the party inspects the ship, they will find it has already been thoroughly looted and all that remains of the crew are skeletons. (Whether the skeletons are animated or not is up to you). The dock guards will tell you that a huge fog rolled in last night and this ship was there when the fog lifted. [painterinsomniac]
50. The Menagerie - A decent sized merchant ship, this one is run by all sorts of different creatures though none are humanoid. This ship was originally a travelling circus showing off all manner of awakened animals who were kept captive. The animals are quite amiable and will offer carry passengers in exchange for assistance selling their goods in markets. [painterinsomniac]
51. The Coffin - A casket-shaped ship that contains the body of a 21-ft giant. The top of the casket has been fitted with sails and rigging and is manned by a crew of humans who tell the party that the giant hired them before his death. He always wanted to sail around the world, so half of all his treasures would be given to the crew who sailed him around the world. The money is to be awarded upon the crews return to the giant's family home, and the crew must have an artefact from each land to prove their voyage complete to the family and get their loot. Of course, the crew isn't bothering with actually sailing around the world - they're content to just make port for a year and trade people for ancestral trinkets so they can return to the land of giants in a year and take their massive loot. They've been given a hefty advance to cover the cost of their long voyage, so money is no object. Adventurers can sell their items if the item is from a distinct background (eg a Dwarven Warhammer, an Elven scroll of healing, etc). [Anceaus]
52. The Lighthouse - This ship is captained by a young cowardly wizard and an equally nervous-looking crew of young human men. Atop the central mast is a large lighthouse light, which the owner uses to keep other ships far away from him while at sea so as to avoid any trouble. If approached, the captain will immediately begin grovelling and handing over loot at the sight of the party's weapons, offering them any onboard services he can think of for his crew to do for them (shoeshines, blade sharpening, armour mending).Turns out it's all an act - the captain is actually a conniving trickster who transports and deals in Light Blue Light, a magical drug that induces paranoia/twitchy behaviour but grants a 1d6 bonus to Strength for a period of 1 hour. [Anceaus]
53. The Nest - A vaguely ship-shaped bramble of collected branches and tar, this vessel doesn't look like it should even float, much less sail. It's run completely by Kenku's. They love to collect shiny objects and every nook and cranny of the nest is filled with glittering pieces of treasure and trinkets, among which are a range of magical items.Anything can be bought for a price, but what they especially want is for the adventurers to help them get a shiny old chalice that they've spotted beneath the waters of the harbour - they aren't big swimmers. [Anceaus]
54. The Half-Pint - An average looking, 2nd-rate ship run exclusively by halflings and gnomes. The crew are rolling a large number of barrels off the ship. A DC 13 Investigation Check will uncover that the Half-Pint has almost twice as many decks as a regular ship of that size and the diminutive crew use the extra space to smuggle illegal magical ale that has explosive side effects. If approached, the first mate (a scruffy gnome named Sebastiano who trusts people a little too easily considering his trade) will ask the party if they are 'for hire' or just want a cask.If the party is looking to buy, refer to the http://dndspeak.com/2017/12/100-random-potion-effects/ to determine what effect their beer has.If they're interested in the job, he would have them guard a supply wagon transporting contraband IPA to an old wizard who lives in an ivory tower in the nearby forest for a sum of 25gp each. What the party doesn't know is that the wizard is in the process of transitioning into a Lich, and the beer is the magical conduit by which he has been transforming. The wizard has the stats of a Revenant if the party chooses to fight him. If an unconscious creature drinks the illegal beer, they will be revived and become Undead. [Anceaus]
55. The "Blu Moon" - A two masted Caravel. An ocean going merchant ship, that has recently been damaged by pirates, but escaped because they dumped all cargo overboard. The ship is being repaired and expected to be ready in two days. The captain, Quintus "Full" Moon, already has agreed to transport 24 bales of dyed fabric to [INSERT DESTINATION] but is now looking for some more cargo for the same destination. The rest of the crew is: first mate Eldan Wind (m half-elf), bosun Karrla (f half-orc), helmsman Olfie Re (f half-elf), cook Carlin Zwiet (f gnome), and four human sailors: Frenk(m), Ra(f), Tjoris(m) en Huub(m). Huub is a 12 year old boy on his first trip. [Jeeve65]
56. The Leatherback - A merchant ship from a faraway land. It is made of a beautiful reddish wood and adorned with many colorful flags. About half the crew is made up of tortles and the other half consists of various other races they picked up on their travels. They are very friendly people and will happily buy you a drink or two in exchange for stories of your adventures or of the places and cultures you’ve experienced. If they take a liking to you they're even willing to give you free passage to wherever you'd like to travel... as long as that place happens to be the next port along their voyage. [TheMightyLoaf]
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