Splintered Rock

Sept 4 - Splintered Rock.

"He who can destroy a thing, controls a thing." Paul 'Muad'Dib' Atreides

When I landed on Splintered Rock the heat was still rising. The air was filled with the odor of spice and the light that reflected off the sand hurt my eyes.

The automated guide broadcasted a welcome as I disembarked. "Welcome to Splintered Rock! May I remind you that smuggling spice from the outpost is illegal."

At the end of the passage, passed the monitors and scanners, stood a man in a tan uniform, a beret perched jauntily upon his head. It was local law enforcement, Constable Vooper Werribee. I introduced myself.

"I am with the Special Investigations Unit of the Alliance Military, Zenobia. My name is Major Siamendes."

The Constable saluted smartly and replied, "Ah! Excellent! I'm happy to meet you, Major. I've been informed that Alliance forces may take an interest in our outpost at some point."

I acknowledged the remark. The word 'interest' can cover a range of possibilities after all.

"The news has also reached us about actions on Hale's Moon."

"Yes, what have you learned?" I asked. I wasn't here looking for a grocery store robber, but I wanted to hear the Constable talk.

"Nothing apart from what has been broadcast on CNS, Major. Although it is clear that Alliance forces may want to control the spice trade at some point."

Naturally I let that comment pass.

Instead I began, "I am here following two investigations...there is a matter of stolen antiquities from the Zenobian homeworld.."

He looked confused.

"Really!" he remarked. "That is a matter I know nothing about. I'm afraid interplanetary matters are beyond my jurisdiction."

Fair enough I thought, but I continued nevertheless, "I am of the firm belief that if one wants results, turn to local law enforcement." I smiled gently.

The Constable looked around. "Local ... law enforcement ...You mean me?!" he asked. He looked shocked.

"Indeed."

The Constable continued,"Well, of course Major I'm happy to help in whatever way necessary ...erm .. I'll keep my ears open, but erm .. .I'm afraid I have other duties to perform as well."

I smiled inwardly. You have to love this man I thought.

He continued, "Can you tell me anything more about this stolen item?"

I looked around the structure we were in. A metal edifice above a small market. A bit too public for my tastes. I turned to him and asked, "Is there a place we can chat...an office perhaps?"

The Constable answered,"I'm afraid our central offices are under reconstruction and were recently damaged by a quake."

"Oh that's a shame," I replied,"then here will have to do."

I could avoid the topic no longer.

"My, it's warm here..." I said.

"Yes..." The Constable checked his temperature gauge. "78 out in the desert basin."

Undeterred, I gave him some details concerning the relics of St. Zenobius and the existence of a duplicate casket. He took out a notecard and stylus and jotted down some notes.

"A casket - I see," he remarked.

"It is my task," I said, "to track this casket."

I paused while he finished writing, then added,"I am also here because there is a person of interest. Ardra, a navigator, who may have some information."

The Constable finished his last note and said,"I will certainly make enquiries with my contacts. The local traders here should have heard something."

"Splendid."

The Constable thought for a moment,"Ardra - hmm - the name is not familiar to me."

My reasons for seeking Ardra I naturally kept to myself. Ardra was contracted in the past by Alliance Military, Zenobia for shipments including genetic research materials. Colonel M_____ indicated there is a discrepancy between the shipping manifests and inventory records from the Angel of Mercy Research Facility, in particular concerning blastomeres used to accelerate growth in clones.

There was also a likelihood that Ardra was involved in the transportation of the relics of St. Zenobius. As a Guild Steersman, she was an ideal candidate for such a task.

"I would like to take a look around if I may, speak with the locals."

The Constable nodded "I'm afraid I have urgent duties elsewhere, Major. Forgive me."

"Certainly, I replied smiling warmly, "Carry on Constable."

The Constable left and I took some time to read the literature left out for travellers arriving at the outpost.

Shortly thereafter, the local Governor Erwin Vhargon and his Lady Linaye Allen arrived [pictured above]. They extended their warm greetings before they departed on business of their own. I look forward to further discussions with the Governor and his staff, both in regards to my current investigations and possible negotiations concerning the spice trade.

I went for a walk through the market and headed towards the landing pad. I was briefly accompanied by pilot, TekJansen Warrhol, who offered his services as a tracker. I have provided him with the latest star charts before he left for the station at Zenobia.

Once TekJansen left I began a routine preliminary survey of the defensive condition of the outpost, with an eye towards further analysis on subsequent visits.

The spice refinery is situated beneath a rocky outcrop that protects it from two sides. A lethal-beam security door limits access from the walkway. The third side of the refinery is guarded by the desert itself and a high retaining wall.

The airport itself gives a clear view of the refinery and thereby reveals the weakest point in its defence. Any invading force once it takes and holds the airport would accomplish three objectives: (1) It would secure a beach head for a second wave of incoming troops and armour. (2) It would be able to prevent further reinforcements of local forces from the air. (3) It would gain a direct line of fire to the refinery itself for which the threat of destruction could be used as a negotiating tool with the local government.

Access to the airport could be achieve by a small unit of infantry from the sand beneath the airport. The landing platform would protect their approach. Air and armor support would be able to conduct offensive actions from above.

Seizure of the control tower would permit direct line of fire covering the security door leading to the refinery. A small hatch at the base of the tower grants access from beneath the landing platform.
A plasma cannon oversees the landing pad. A small strike team would have to disable this artillery piece. Any troops would have to be prepared for the oppressive heat and dust. Goggles, protective masks, water bottles can all be obtained locally.