EVENT #1

[space_aces]

SURVIVAL OF THE FASTEST

Dropping a set of coordinates in the logs of every Privateer space ship with no further elaboration or explanation is a way of delivering a lead that only SUPERBIA would do. What awaits at the site of the coordinates is not a civilization, nor an unpopulated rock, but a planet-sized tourist trap: The Dayton Entertainment Platform, the host of the biggest space ship race in the tri-galaxy area, the Mobius Prix.

For a place where everything is happening, none of it seems to matter for a treasure-hunting Privateer. The coordinates may seem like a total non sequitur, or a passive aggressive suggestion from SUPERBIA to take it easy. Until one starts hearing the rumors that the prize for winning the race was carved from a piece of Fortuna itself...

1

Now This Is Podracing

The Möbius Prix is an utterly ruthless affair. Anything goes, with the only rule of the race being no weapons. If a Privateer wants a closer look at that trophy, they can consider entering the race and winning it for themself. Fast space ships have an advantage (advice that could have come from the mouth of Herlock Sholmes.) But speed isn't the only factor that matters here...

Space ships don't worry about terrain per se, but the race track passes through difficult space with a claustrophobic amount of obstructions that require an ace pilot's skills and intuition to traverse. The track also goes through the territory of nasty creatures, including a pack of Triple Helix Hammerjaws during their mating season. Good luck dealing with an aggressive male Hammerjaw that thinks you're what's between him and getting laid. On top of all that, the racers will start to notice some less than natural obstacles. Mines that blow up passing vehicles, tripwires that can catch a speeding space ship, and laser turrets aimed at the track, it seems some racers don't heed the No Weapons rule as long as it isn't on the ship itself.

2

Changing Hands

It's not just the competitors that have a vested interest in the outcome of this race. Intermingled with the spectators are gamblers, sweating while watching the results of their bets. No matter who wins, a lot of money is going to be exchanged in the end. Maybe try to cash out on a bet yourself, if one has a lot of faith in your fellow crewmate.

Just like on the track, people play dirty here as well. In the shadows, one might catch some suspicious looking characters lurking around. Following them will lead to one finding some tough looking guys conspiring together, with race fixing being an especially alarming keyword. Those death traps on the race track are not so inexplicable now.

It's common knowledge (to the point that locals will find you a bit naive for not knowing) that the race is a front for vast transactions of money among the local criminal empires. Investigating a bit deeper will reveal the involvement of a specific organized crime family, The Belladahlias. A lot of snooping around (whether through intelligence or arm-twisting) will disclose that the winner is rigged to be a certain ship, the Polar Star. That last tidbit will come at the cost of attracting the attention of large, suspicious followers dressed in black. Ruh-roh! Let's hope you're as fast on your feet as behind the wheel.

3

Fast Food

Those with less of a need for speed are free to leisurely enjoy the splendors of Dayton. Attractions include rides, entertainers, and plenty of the Largest in the Tri-Galaxy Area and Smallest in the Tri-Galaxy Area of miscellaneous objects.

Dayton is practically half-shopping mall half-race course, with countless sellers attracted to the planet with dreams of extracting money from tourists. Omnipresent is the amount of merchandise centering around the Mobius Prix, each vendor promoting their racer of choice. T-shirts, water bottles, fans, balloons, anything you can slap a face on, it's being sold. When in Rome, why not do as the Romans do, and sell merchandise with a crewmate's face on it? Supportive AND profitable!

If any of the goods catches your eye, however, prepare to have to open your wallet wide. The Rat Race might be as brutal as the space ship tournament. Everything on Dayton is sold with massive price gouging, including the most overpriced hotdog you will ever see. If it's just food SUPERBIA will probably allow you to write it down as a living expense, but it's the principle of the thing.

Comments

@braidedwonder

[heeroics]

Even when the work and the engineering is divided between four preternaturally capable young mechanics, modifying the Gundam Deathscythe into a intergalactic-class podracer on the fly is grueling work. It's only a small mercy that Duo trusts every pair of hands that will touch his machine for this endeavor - they couldn't afford the loss in manpower, otherwise.

And everyone knew that without ZERO involved, it was Duo who was the fastest, most capable pilot on a track made claustrophobic with potential hazards - not to mention all the potential advantages provided by the suit's stealth technology.

The other pilots are getting some rest. Only Duo and Heero are left in the garage now, the both of them somehow superhuman in their shared ability to persist without sleep. That one of them is metabolically altered and the other is simply manic is secondary to the truth that it's always been like this. Familiar, despite their utterly bizarre new circumstances... and whatever new feelings Duo may have about modifying his 'buddy' in this way.

Heero just pulls down his mask and starts up the welder again whenever Duo's voice gets too distracting.

[braidedwonder]

Duo Maxwell, for all of his natural ability to take a task and run with it... finds it difficult to modify Deathscythe like this. Yes, it is a comfort knowing that he is using a machine that he knows like the back of his hand, in some form or another, but on the other, it is challenging to change Deathscythe so drastically as he is. Knowing that he has Heero, Quatre, and Wufei along to give ideas and generally bounce things off of is a great weight off of his mind, though annoying from time to time.

Wufei and Quatre have gone back to sleep, but with all of his anxious energy invested in making sure that every decision was not only structurally sound but something that could help them win... sleep isn't on the menu. A good and bad thing, really.

Duo Maxwell is not one that needs much sleep to carry on with his day, nor to enter and win a race, so he doesn't think much of it, nor does he spend much time thinking about it when Heero stays with him to keep working too. They work together in a reliable rhythm, and that is soothing despite everything that is so unusual.

"Hey, Heero?" Duo pauses, turning to see Heero with the welder going, only to shout louder. "Yo! Heero!"

[heeroics]

When Duo's voice finally reaches a height that Heero can hear over flaming welders and buzzing power tools, Heero acknowledges that his companion might have something important to say. That isn't always the case, but there always has been some variance in what Heero considers important versus some of the burning questions that come to Duo's mind.

He doesn't answer right away, his focus on finishing his task. Leaving welds half-done on spacefaring machinery is a good way to get killed, after all.

The welder sputters to a stop once he's reached a place he's satisfied with. The expressionless mask 'faces' Duo. That probably means he's listening.