<> <> (I am now going to do quantiative statistical modelling. For FUN.) <> (That's not fun!) (So we don't have bidder identities, but we have references, yes? Bidder A wins auction for planet 1, bidder B for planet 2, etc.?) <> <> (Well that's just super. Alright. First principles, Clarice!) * Hestia twirls the data chip on the tip of a finger, because apparently she can do that now, before slotting it into a pad and sitting down with the bottle of wine she was 'gifted' with. "Right, well... it's all about patterns, isn't it..." She starts programming in some basic analytical filters, starting with: who were the winning bidders for Metallica, the walphin planet, Duekti space, and *especially* for the planet with the Bugs on it." <> * Hestia leans back in her chair and has a sip with a pensive expression. "Well... one for each, and then someone with a grudge, maybe...?" <> <> (Sorry, was answering the door.) (NP.) <> * Hestia has another sip, and does seem more pleasantly surprised than anything else the wine was good. That was one impressively expensive pre-apology. She glances at the pad and hmmms. "Upside, the people I need to track down are pretty clear. Downside, no way to do that without hacking GalReg..." <> (Certainly less dangerous, but it also might not work if they pulled a rest area trick like we did. Decisions, decisions...) * Hestia frowns, then decides to backtrace the people responsible for the Bug planet, because in her backward universe, someone doing this instrumentally was probably less interested in security than someone doing it systemically. <> (Well. What specific information do I have about the bidder to start with?) <> (Well that's a good place to start.) * Hestia starts with publically available, before resorting to hackin-gu. Any notable hits for the name on Red Google that aren't some guy working the night shift at a Pragmatic Grille? <> (Ha. Seriously?) <> (So it is.) (What's the reverse lookup on the phone?) <> (Right, I didn't expect anything out of the legal search but you have to start with the basics.) <> * Hestia cracks her knuckles, starts setting up as much spoofing and redirecting of access as she possibly can. "Sorry, kids," she murmurs, taking a rather quicker sip of wine and looking around the (presumably empty) ship. "But you wouldn't do this, and I sort of have to." <> (Well the less they know the better. Time to hack the phone's service provider.) (We won't bother rolling. You have access to the ship's datalines via your powers, you can do some pretty hefty shucking and jiving.) * Hestia does the standard things: who's the phone registered to, who gets the bill, how long have they had it, that sort of affair. First layer stuff. <> * Hestia eyebrows. Red Tracphone, standard MO for someone who doesn't want to be caught. Who were the calls to? <> <> (Current date is...?) (May 21st.) (*nod*) * Hestia smirks a little. "Now we're getting somewhere." She goes to check which spacesports the calls went to, and also (if possible) security camera feeds at said spacesports, if there's a way to backtrace that. <> (Too far away to tell if it actually rings or anything like that?) <> * Hestia breathes out sharply and has more goddamned wine. "Red herring, or establishing a pattern. Maybe I was wrong about this guy. Alright, well, let's go with the billing." Who pays the as-you-go amount? <> (All of them until I get a hit, really. They're my only lead.) <> (*nod* That's what I expected. They all ring, nobody picks them up?) <> <> * Hestia frowns, having downloaded the things so she can review them simultaneously. Does anybody do anything strange once the phone starts/stops ringing? <> (A butterfly.) <> <> (Where's Amadeus when I need him.) (Locked in the lab.) <> * Hestia ffffffff's through pursed lips, and just has an entire glass of wine at this point, before looking at the bottle and stoppering it or whatever the hell you do with unfinished bottles of wine. "Alright. There are no butterflies on Mars, so who even knows what that's about." She does at least try to see if the image has been doctored, but that's not really her area... more of a 'well, I need to try this anyway' measure. <> (Ah, sorry, I missed that line.) (NP.) * Hestia squints one eye shut. "Alright. Could be someone in the area screwing with the tech. Lord knows I could do that... god damnit, this is silly. I can come back to this." Everything so far, filed and saved under GUY WHO WANTS US DEAD before she moves on to the only one of the three companies to get more than one bid, Company B. <> * Hestia rubs her face in frustration. They're not unexpected tactics, but the problem is they're also annoyingly difficult to pierce in their own stupid way. * Hestia finishes off the last of the wine that was in her glass, swilling it around the glass a little before gulping it down. "Maybe I should just wait until they get back from the fancy dinner." <. * Hestia blinks at that. "Sounds like someone on stakeout." Where's the food place, and who's the woman? <> * Hestia bites her fingernail. "So whatever person they've got holed away somewhere brokering this stuff likes junk food and lives in Red Boston." To the phonebook! Besides ATC, which is obvious, are there any chain jumper-funding ventures registered in Red Boston? <> * Hestia typeity type. Are any 1.) connected to the Supernova or the Orchid, or 2.) have a suspicious string of successes? <> * Hestia grimaces. "I... really did not want this to be the outcome." * Hestia saves everything, and shuts down the pad, running her hands through her hair. "That's enough of that. Might as well see what their rep says at this... whatever that Suit Boy and Captain Cooksalot went to." <>