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Cynthia immediately crosses the Wardroom, a scowl on her face. You step back defensively as she gets near you. Her eyes wander between the weapons blatantly strapped to you, and the makeshift bandages on your cheek and ear. You can tell from the bags under her eyes that she probably hasn’t slept in a while. She gives you a look you can only describe as tired anger, then she sighs.

“Come with me,” she finally says after what seems like forever. She grabs your wrist and yanks you along, out of the wardroom and down the corridor to her stateroom. As you enter, you notice it is almost identical to Corrigan’s, designed for two crew originally, the top bunk is piled with Cynthia’s luggage. However, this stateroom doesn’t look lived-in. The bunk where you assume Cynthia sleeps is undisturbed, the desk off to the side is empty, and everything about the room indicates that it has yet to be used properly. Though you do notice some shopping bags in the corner.

“Sit,” Cynthia says tiredly, pointing to the chair at her desk. You do as asked, and she begins digging through her luggage. “You know, it’s a good thing I use this as a general-purpose cleaner.” She yanks out a bottle of rubbing alcohol, putting some on her hands. She then gets some paper towels. “I’m not sure if our medbay has any supplies yet.” She turns to face you, sitting the bottle and paper towels on the desk. With one hand, she grabs your chin to keep your head steady. With the other, she rips the bandage off of your cheek.

You wince as pain returns to the open wound from your earlier gun battle. Then you feel another burst of pain as she removes the bandage from the edge of your ear, more gently this time. She gets the bottle of alcohol and kneels in front of you, looking tiredly at the graze on your left cheek. You feel a finger run gently near the wound, just far enough away to avoid causing more pain.

“It’s definitely going to leave a scar,” Cynthia says analytically. She dabs some alcohol onto a piece of paper towel and presses it against the wound, eliciting a small gasp from you. “It’s not very deep though. The bleeding has almost stopped entirely.” She then focuses on your ear, wiping something, likely blood, away before dabbing it with alcohol. “This, on the other hand…” She raises an eyebrow at you. “This needs a proper bandage.” She presses the paper towel into the wound, making you groan. Your eye twitches a little bit.

>”Are you angry with me?” (pry)
>”I can do this myself, you know.” (dismissive)
>”Thanks, Cynthia.” (grateful)
>”This room sure is clean. It almost doesn’t look used at all.” (inquire about the room)
>”So why aren’t you asking how I got the wounds?” (suspicious)
>Say nothing

>>755023
>>”So why aren’t you asking how I got the wounds?” (suspicious)

>>755023
> thanks, Cynthia
>I got a dog
> are you going to make a habit of walking round the ship without a shirt?
She's put a hammock up in engineering?

>>755023
>>”So why aren’t you asking how I got the wounds?” (suspicious)
> thanks, Cynthia
>I got a dog
> are you going to make a habit of walking round the ship without a shirt?

>>755023
>>”Thanks, Cynthia.” (grateful)

>>755023
>”Thanks, Cynthia.” (grateful)

>>755023
>”Thanks, Cynthia.” (grateful)

If she does pry, just say "Captain stuff".

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“Thanks, Cynthia.” You smile at your engineer, who merely sighs. You feel her tape the paper towel to your ear.

“You don’t need to thank me,” she replies. A smile creeps across her face, but doesn’t quite reach her eyes. She runs a rag along the left side of your jaw and neck, wiping more blood away.

For a while, neither of you talk. You figure Cynthia isn’t in a talking mood, and you honestly don’t know what to talk about with her beyond mechanical things. She's changed so much since the two of you were teenagers. She leans in to wipe at another part of your face, and your attention is brought to her current state of dress. Plaid pajama pants and a black bra. You have to admit, it’s more than a little bit distracting.

“So…” You finally muster a sentence as she leans back and puts a cap on the alcohol. “Do you plan to make a habit of not wearing a shirt?” You smirk at her jokingly.

She looks down at herself and sighs, though you’re sure you hear a small laugh in there as well. “It’s 06:30,” she says. “And these are my pajamas. She walks over to her luggage and puts the paper towels and alcohol away, producing a white tank top. “I was trying to get a bit of shut-eye, but once I realized that was a lost cause, I decided to head to the Wardroom and make some coffee.” She pulls the tank top over herself and yawns loudly.

The both of you hear muffled barking in the hallway, followed by a joyous exclamation from who you assume to be Virgo. Instantly, you notice Cynthia’s facial expression change.

“Was that a dog?” She raises an eyebrow, then sighs. “I hope you realize the problems with having an animal, especially a dog, aboard a spaceship.” She rubs the bridge of her nose tiredly.

“You know me,” you reply. “Soft spot for animals.” The both of you share a small laugh.

>”You said you couldn’t sleep. Something wrong?”
>”Are you planning on asking how I got these wounds?”
>”I honestly thought you’d be angrier with me.”

>>755296
>>”I honestly thought you’d be angrier with me.”
At least somebody else is happy with a dog

>>755296
>”You said you couldn’t sleep. Something wrong?”

>>755296
> You said you couldn't sleep, something wrong?
Maybe you want a nice massage?
Sleeping in a bra? Uncomfortable.

>>755321
>Sleeping in a bra? Uncomfortable.
She just put that on to go out and get some coffee.

>>755296
>you said you couldn't see anything wrong
Time to show off the doggo

>>755296
>”You said you couldn’t sleep. Something wrong?”
>angry option
We're the Captain. Our ship might currently be a turd, but we run this shit.

>>755296
>>”You said you couldn’t sleep. Something wrong?”
>”Are you planning on asking how I got these wounds?”

You are about to tell Cynthia about Tripe, but something she said catches your attention. “What do you mean you couldn’t sleep?” You raise an eyebrow as she leans against the bunk and closes her eyes.

“I haven’t been able to get more than a few minutes of sleep at a time since we left Earth,” she replies. “But don’t worry about it, I’m probably just getting used to the ship.”

“Cynthia…” You grimace. “How many hours have you been awake?” She makes eye-contact for a moment, then looks away from you.

“I’ve been up since about 05:00 yesterday,” she admits. “That’s why I was up making breakfast. I got maybe three hours’ sleep that night.” She groans and rubs her eyes tiredly.

“That’s not healthy,” you reply worriedly.

“I’m aware of that.” Cynthia crosses her arms. “But what am I going to do? If I can’t sleep, I can’t sleep.” She shrugs.

You think back to your first few months in the Navy, aboard an old training corvette named Warsaw. There was a period of time where you didn’t sleep for almost 50 hours straight. You can’t have that happening with Cynthia.

>”I know it’s not ideal… But Martian red wine is good at putting people to sleep. I have a bottle.” (offer her the red wine you bought)
>”There are always herbal remedies. A master chief I trained under always recommended Tappler tea.” (suggest an herbal remedy)
>”I don’t really know what to say. There are a million old folk remedies for that sort of thing. Some of them might work.”
>”I still have some old no-go pills from the Navy.” (offer medication)

>>755525
>”I know it’s not ideal… But Martian red wine is good at putting people to sleep. I have a bottle.” (offer her the red wine you bought)

>>755525
>>”I still have some old no-go pills from the Navy.” (offer medication)
Hopefully no crippling addiction

>>755525
>”I still have some old no-go pills from the Navy.” (offer medication)
DRUGS. Check that expiry date though.
May I just say, before anyone even gets started on the waifu wars, a Captain making any sort of moves on ANY member of our crew is morally reprehensible. Regardless of how open to the notion they might be. Moral qualms aside, it will inevitably lead to crew disgruntlement on favourtism even if it isn't actually apparent.

Therefore, I put forward the motion that Cynthia and Corrigan are off limits. And that, during our career as space captain, any romantic entanglements are strictly relegated to SPACE WHORES.

Vote Space Whores, it's the Right Thing To Do.

>>755525
>offer meds
And a glass of water

>>755529
>>755537
>>755552
Before I write, I just want you guys to know:
You are offering your chief mechanic highly addictive, controversial, military-grade sedatives designed to knock pilots out after missions and force them to get sleep.

>>755579
Well, yeah.

And if they're military issue there's no way she can easily get her hands in enough to get addicted so we should be set.

>>755579
How about only WE give her the pill and keep the supply to ourselves?

If that's still likely to be addictive, then I'm changing it to:
>”There are always herbal remedies. A master chief I trained under always recommended Tappler tea.” (suggest an herbal remedy)

>>755525
>”I know it’s not ideal… But Martian red wine is good at putting people to sleep. I have a bottle.” (offer her the red wine you bought)
>>755579
damn guys, pull up pull up!

>>755590
Unless of course the meds get de-classified, or they are so addictive she does stupid shit to get more.

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>>755625
>pull up, pull up

>>755597
I'd rather not risk it.
I'm changing my vote to
>herbal remedy

And now we have a tie between herbal and wine...

Will wait ten minutes for a tiebreaker. If none is made, I will roll a 1d2.

>>755669
Are the two contradictory? We have the wine immediately on us and can suggest the herbal remedy as a better solution for next time?

>>755694
I suppose I can combine them, though the wine is actually still in the Wardroom where Allen left his space-groceries.

Very well then, writing.

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A thought crosses your mind for a brief moment… You still have those no-go pills from the Navy… But immediately you strike that idea down while it’s still in your head. There’s a reason why you didn’t use them up during your Navy days.

“I think I have a couple of ideas,” you finally say after considering your options.

“I’m open to just about anything,” Cynthia yawns.

“So a master chief I served under aboard the Warsaw once told me that he always drank Tappler tea,” you begin. “It’s a root they grow here on Mars actually. Anyway, he said it regulates your body’s sleep cycle naturally according to how active you are during the day. I don’t know if there’s any science behind it, but the man swore by it, and he was probably the most well-adjusted person aboard that ship.”

“And the other idea?” Cynthia looks curious now.

“Well…” You pause for a moment, pointing aft toward the wardroom with your thumb. “I bought some Martian red wine this morning. I’ve heard that a lot of CFP officers use it to calm their nerves and help them sleep.” You cross your arms. “It isn’t exactly ideal, but I can give you the bottle if you want.”

She looks thoughtfully at nowhere in particular before speaking. “Sure, I suppose I could have a glass or two. Where do you think I could get this Tappler stuff?”

“I’d bet pretty much any pharmacy or health foods place would have it,” you reply.

“I’ll have to check in on that then. Can’t be drinking myself asleep every night, after all.”

>”I can go get that wine for you now.” (ends conversation)
>”After you get some sleep, would you want to stop by a ship parts store with me? I want to see if they have anything the Bad Habit needs.”
>”So what’s the status on removing the CIC?”
>”How did your shopping trip with Corrigan go last night?”

>>755767
>shopping trip with Corrigan

Also jovially rib her for being a no good schmuk pinching our booze.

>>755767
>>”After you get some sleep, would you want to stop by a ship parts store with me? I want to see if they have anything the Bad Habit needs.”

>>755767
>”After you get some sleep, would you want to stop by a ship parts store with me? I want to see if they have anything the Bad Habit needs.”
>”So what’s the status on removing the CIC?”
>”How did your shopping trip with Corrigan go last night?”

>>755767
> ALL OF THE ABOVE
Mention that we made friends with a parts dealer already

>>755767
>ALL OF THE ABOVE

>Then keep silent for a minute.

>Then ask why didn't she ask anything about us being covered in weapons and blood.

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You lean back in the chair, gingerly touching your cheek bandage, remembering the events of last night. You’re honestly glad that Cynthia hasn’t asked about the evening’s events. Though, it does make you remember something.

“Hey Cynthia,” you say. “I met a used ship parts seller yesterday.”

“Yeah?” Cynthia raises an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” you confirm. “She said she’d have to close down the shop for a while today, at least six hours, but after that, I was wondering if you’d like to go with me to look for stuff for the Bad Habit.”

Cynthia’s eyes light up at the prospect. “You have enough cash for ship parts?”

“As long as you don’t buy everything you set your eyes on,” you jokingly reply.

“Then I suppose I’ll have to limit myself,” she replies. “What kind of stuff are we prioritizing?” She crosses her arms.

“You’re the engineer, not me.” You shrug. “Though a FCS panel from a Flight 3 Oberon would be something worth looking for, as well as anything that absolutely needs to be replaced.” Cynthia nods.

“Alright then. When I’m done getting some shut-eye, we’ll go shopping.” She grins.

“Speaking of shopping,” you begin. “How did your shopping trip with Corrigan go?”

Cynthia smiles warmly. “It went well,” she points to the bags in the corner of the room. “She got more than I did actually. Seems that she really likes sundresses. And blue jeans.” Cynthia walks over to her bags and pulls out a pair of sunglasses, putting them on smugly. “What do you think?”

“You’re trying too hard,” you joke. They’re aviators, the mirrored kind. “But those are the ones to get if you’re looking for sunglasses. All other types just can’t compete.”

“Oh,” Cynthia exclaims. “Speaking of Corrigan. I’ve got an update on the CIC situation. With Virgo’s help, we can start later today, maybe around 16:00. It shouldn’t take more than six hours at the most to have everything out of there.” She frowns slightly. “Though the room itself won’t be pretty with all of those machines yanked out of it.”

“Right,” you reply. You stand up gently, then grimace as the machine pistol still hanging from your shoulder knocks loudly into the wall. Cynthia looks like she’s about to say something, but she closes her mouth. “Well,” you continue. “I’ll go ahead and get that bottle of wine.”

“You know…” Cynthia speaks up as you turn around. “Since it’s your wine, I wouldn’t mind if you joined me for a glass.”

>”Beg your pardon?” (question her motives)
>”Sure. I could go for a quick drink.”
>”No thanks. Maybe some other time.”

>>755888
>”No thanks. Wine makes me gassy."

>>755888
>>”No thanks. Maybe some other time.”

>>755888
>”Sure. I could go for a quick drink.”
Be clueless!

>>755888
>”Beg your pardon?” (question her motives)

>>755888
>>”Sure. I could go for a quick drink.”

>>755888
> No thanks
I'm pretty bushed myself, eh

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Hey guys!

I'm gonna call it a night since I've got stuff to do in the morning. However, I'm not going to tally the votes until around 3:30 PM tomorrow when I get ready to start writing. See you guys tomorrow! Still, I'll be happy to answer any questions you have in the mean time.

Mood Music:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dB2dN1x_k_8

>>755959
Cheers, Zap.

>>755537

Settle down, man.

>>755888
>sure, i could go for a quick drink.

>>755903
>>755907
>>755948
It's a chance to get character development out of her. Please reconsider.

>>755888
>”Sure. I could go for a quick drink.”
Just one or two glasses though

>question motives

>>755959

>”Sure. I could go for a quick drink

Alrighty, votes tallied. It looks like Allen is going to share a quick drink with Cynthia!

I'll start writing in about thirty minutes. I'm currently over in /hr/ collecting vintage sci-fi art.

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“Sure,” you reply. “I could go for a quick drink.” You nod at Cynthia and leave the stateroom, heading back to the wardroom where you see that Virgo is playing with Tripe. He’s kneeled down, petting the dog.

“Hey, captain.” Virgo stands back up. “I never figured you to be a dog person.” He gestures to Tripe, who barks happily. “They really are the best pets though.” He crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow. “I’m guessing Cynthia just finished giving you an earful. I told her that you and Tom were out shopping, but I don’t think she believed a word of it.”

“Yeah, she didn’t ask how I got hurt,” you reply, pointing to the bandage. “She slapped some bandages on me, so I think she just doesn’t want to talk about it right now.” You sigh to yourself as you walk over to your won shopping bags and pull out the bottle of wine. You hear Virgo chuckle.

“My, my, captain.” He grins sarcastically. “Having some wine with the woman who just put your face back together? How scandalous.” He winks at you. “Reminds me of a cheap romance novel.” Then he points at his own scars. “Though it also reminds me of my own experiences,” he chuckles.

“I think you’ve got the wrong idea, Virgo.” You frown at your Thulian friend. “I don’t plan on doing anything. I’m just having a glass with a friend. Cynthia needs some to calm her nerves anyway.” Virgo doesn’t look convinced, merely chuckling, then nodding at you.

“Very well, sir.” He stretches tiredly. “Just remember…” He turns to walk toward his own stateroom. “Plans have a habit of going awry.”

You huff to yourself, then get a couple of tin cups from the kitchen. When you get back to Cynthia’s room, you notice that she’s put a black cardigan on over the tank top. She sits down in her bunk and motions for you to sit at the desk.

“This is it,” you say, showing her the bottle. She takes it from your hand and inspects it.

“This looks…” She takes a closer look at it. “Expensive. Where did you get it?”

“Just some little open-air market,” you reply casually. You sit both cups on the desk and take the bottle from her, filling the cups. “Here you go,” you hand her one.

“Cheers,” she says. She takes a sip of it, furrowing her brow. “This is pretty strong.”

>”So why did you want to have a drink with me?” (question her motives)
>”You still haven’t asked about what I was doing last night.” (suspicious)
>”Why haven’t you asked me about my time in the Navy?” (question her reluctance to being up your military service)
>Remain quiet.

>>756946

>”So why did you want to have a drink with me?” (question her motives)
>”You still haven’t asked about what I was doing last night.” (suspicious)

>>756946
>”You still haven’t asked about what I was doing last night.” (suspicious)

>>756946
> Why haven't you asked me about my time in the navy
She's probably jealous of all the boys we were having

>>756946
Remain quiet for now and enjoy the wine

You take a sip of your wine. Cynthia was right, this stuff is strong. You swirl it in the cup absently. Then you decide to bring up something that’s been bothering you.

“You still haven’t asked me what I was doing last night,” you say. Cynthia takes another sip of the wine, then sighs.

“Because I don’t know if I can ask without getting angry,” she replies after about ten seconds. “You and Tom went out and did something last night. Whatever it was, you needed two guns, a belt of hand grenades, and you came back with a cut up cheek and a chunk missing from your ear.” She looks sternly at you. “I’m not stupid, Allen. I can connect the dots, I just want to leave it be until I’m calm enough to talk about it with you.” She looks away and you’re sure you hear her mutter something to herself. “I just hope that this was the last of whatever you were doing.”

The two of you are silent for almost a minute. She takes a couple more sips of her wine, then refills her cup. “If it’s any consolation,” you begin. “We were doing what we did because someone needed our help.” Cynthia’s eyes meet yours for a moment before she looks away.

“That’s one thing that didn’t change about you,” she replies. “You’re always jumping into danger to help people. You were even like that when I first met you.” She sighs, smiling just enough for you to notice. “I guess there are just some things that people can never change about themselves.”

“Maybe,” you reply. You lean back in the chair, finishing your cup.

>”Do you want me to tell you what happened?” (tell her about last night)
>”You always seem to avoid asking about what I did in the Navy.”
>”Why did you want to have a drink with me?”
>Remain quiet.
Also:
>Refill your cup.
>Don’t have any more wine.


I'm going to go have some dinner with family, I'll be back in about an hour, maybe an hour and a half.

>>757085
>>”Why did you want to have a drink with me?”
>Refill your cup

>>757085
>>Remain quiet.
Let her steer the conversation, but have another glass to give her the chance

>>757095
Seconded

>>757095
Thirded (spelling?)

Alright, I'm back. Votes are tallied. Writing now.

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You lean over and retrieve the bottle, filling your own cup. It is good wine, especially considering you are used to cheap stuff, it's certainly nice to drink something that you actually want to taste. Still, you can’t seem to understand why your chief mechanic wanted to share it with you.

“Cynthia,” you begin. “I… Why did you want me to drink this with you?” She laughs a little bit.

“I guess I thought it’d be kind of nice to have an actual talk with you,” she says. You notice how flushed she is, the wine must be starting to have an effect on her. “It’s been so long since we talked…” She takes another drink from her cup. “I mean, actually talked, not just discussed ship stuff. It’s kind of nice.” She hiccups. The two of you idly talk for a few more minutes. You notice that Cynthia fills her cup two more times. You empty yours again, and fill it about halfway, wanting to save some of the bottle.

With how strong this stuff is, you feel like you’d be woozy by now if not for your high tolerance. “We’ve talked plenty since we met up on Earth,” you say.

She frowns at you. “That’s not what I mean. You just showed up in the middle of the night and told me you had a job offer,” she replies. “You shipped off for the Navy and didn’t talk to me for six years. Everyone was worried about you, then after the Abraxis… We all thought you were dead, and ten months later you show up on every news program in the Federation, laying in a hospital bed light-years from home! And after the war ended, nobody could get a hold of you for two years!” She stands up, and you can tell she’s lost her balance. She looks like she’s about to fall forward, right onto the floor.

You stand up to catch her and she slams into you, hugging you tightly. Her arms wrap around your torso as she leans into you. Her head is right next to yours. “I missed you,” she says, barely above a whisper.

>”After everything that happened… I couldn’t go home.” (talk about the War)
>”Look, you don’t need to worry so much about me.” (dismissive)
>”I missed you too.” (confide in her)
>”You just need some rest.” (comforting)
>Write-in.

>war and confide maybe?
She sounds a little wasted

>>757394
>>”I missed you too.” (confide in her)
>”You just need some rest.” (comforting)

>>757394
>”After everything that happened… I couldn’t go home.” (talk about the War)

>>757394
> talk about the war
Now we have a space smart phone we should take a selfie with Tripe and send it to fangirl.

>>757394
>”After everything that happened… I couldn’t go home.” (talk about the War)

You stand there, trying to think of something to say. After the War, you’d avoided your hometown like the plague, drifting from place to place. You knew it was the wrong thing to do, but you had done it anyway because… Because you just couldn’t go home.

Cynthia’s arms tighten around you. And you bring your arms around her. This girl who had always been your friend, and who was always there to support you. She sighs into your ear, likely waiting for you to speak.

“I…” You try to find the right words. “After the War… And the things that happened after it…” You think back to the day you were relieved of duty and discharged. The day they screwed up your pension paperwork. The day they left you with nothing. Then you remember getting the letter that left you with even less than that. “I just couldn’t go home. I tried to go back, but when I got there… I flaked. Cynthia, there are so many things that happened in the War that I just can’t talk about, so many things that I saw.”

You remember the day you’d first tried to go home. Everyone who greeted you acted like they were walking on pins and needles. Because everyone had heard the stories, the different speculated and embellished accounts portrayed by the news. And most of all, you couldn’t visit the town where he was buried.

Cynthia shakes a little bit in your arms, then she speaks. “You could’ve called… You wouldn’t even have to talk about what happened in the War. I never asked because it’s none of my business. And I never brought it up because I remember the look on your face during those TV interviews.” She sounds like she’s going to say more, but she doesn’t. You remember the interviews she’s talking about. The ones from right after the Abraxis Incident, when they’d recovered you and put you aboard a medical ship. The reporters couldn’t stop asking questions about every conceivable thing. And when you either couldn’t, or didn’t want to give them answers, they all jumped to their own conclusions.

“I’m sorry,” is all you can manage. You want to say more, you want to talk about all the things that you saw, you want to explain why some things are so difficult for you to talk about, but none of it would matter right now. So all you do is apologize.

>Write-in.

>>757575
Well let's not dwell on the past too much. Get some sleep, you've got a big day shopping tomorrow.

>>757575
You need some sleep Cynthia, if you want to talk about it later we can.

>>757575
We'll make up for it now. I'm sorry.

>>757600
This.

The past should stay behind us. Very far behind us.

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“Right now you just need to rest,” you say. “I’m not going anywhere anymore.” With that, you walk her over to her bunk. She’s definitely feeling the effects of the wine, she stumbles halfway there and you practically have to drag her into the bunk. “Besides, we shouldn’t be welling on the past if we can’t change it.”

“Do you promise?” She looks at you with expectant eyes as you toss the blanket over her.

“I promise,” you reply. She almost immediately closes her eyes and rolls over, and by the time you get to the door, you hear her snoring lightly. You turn off the light and close the door behind you as softly as possible.

You sigh, leaning against the wall next to the door. You didn’t like talking about the war, but you absolutely hate what not talking about it has done. Finally, after almost a minute, you head down to the armory and put away the machine pistol and grenade belt, returning to the Wardroom.

You gather your bags and move them to the other side of the bench, stretching out on to empty side and resting your eyes. You look at the stained ceiling panels, sighing.

“You look like hammered shit,” Tom says as he sits across from you, lighting a cigarette. He raises an eyebrow at you. "Though I suppose it makes sense after last night."

“I thought you were getting some rest,” you reply. You stretch in your seat, yawning.

“Can’t. Even if I wanted to,” he makes a circle motion next to his temple with his finger, smirking. “Fucked up dreams.”

“I hear you.” You sigh. Tom takes out a newspaper and starts reading it.

>”What’s the paper say? Anything interesting?”
>”I’m headed to my cabin to get some rest.”
>”Anything that needs my attention?”

>>757827
>>”What’s the paper say? Anything interesting?”
>”Anything that needs my attention?”

>>757827
>”What’s the paper say? Anything interesting?
>”Anything that needs my attention?”

>”What’s the paper say? Anything interesting?”

For us, no news might be good news.

>>757827
>"I'm heading to your cabin to get some rest."

>>757827
>”What’s the paper say? Anything interesting?”

Groan about how unfair it is that he can tank half a dozen flaming shots and be fine in a few minutes while we're stuck with feeling woozy after a few glasses of wine.

>>757857
>woozy after a few glasses of wine.
Allen doesn't feel woozy at all. He's just tired from the previous day's events.

>>757874
Oh. I assumed "hammered shit" meant to imply we were in fact hammered.

Still, bitching about his flaming shots still seems appropriate.

>>757874
Hammered may have just been a poor choice of words

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“So what’s in the paper?” You raise an eyebrow at Tom. “Anything interesting?” You don’t mention that you partially expect to see your own adventure somewhere on there.

“Oh, you know…” He responds casually. “Olympus United lost last night to some little nobody team from Venus. Stocks are up, well except for llama wool, that’s taking a nosedive for some reason. A woman was recently found eaten by her 100 pet cats, ugh.” He looks up at you with a grin. “Looks like we were clandestine enough to not make the news.”

“That’s good to hear,” you sigh with relief.

“I agree, sir.” Tom takes another drag of his cigarette. “Though I wonder why the club never made a police report. If they did, it’d be all over the news.” He crosses his arms. “Could have something to do with that Mr. Lowe character, he seems like he’d be in the know about things like this.”

“You think he pulled some strings?” You lean back in the bench, stretching.

“It’s possible,” Tom replies professionally. “Anyway, what happened with Miss Cynthia? I saw you leaving her stateroom. She patch you up?” He points to your bandages.

“Yeah, she disinfected the wounds and put some bandages on them.”

“Interesting, I wouldn’t figure she can fix ships and people.” Tom smirks. “You two talk about anything interesting?”

“Nothing much,” you reply tiredly.

>”Anyway, I’m headed up to my cabin, wake me if anything happens.”
>”Is there anything that needs my attention?”
>"I'm heading out with Cynthia later, make me a list of provisions we need to get."
>Write-in.

>>758042
> make me a list of provisions
> sleep now

>>758042
>"I'm heading out with Cynthia later, make me a list of provisions we need to get."

>>758042
>>"I'm heading out with Cynthia later, make me a list of provisions we need to get."

>>758042
>”Anyway, I’m headed up to my cabin, wake me if anything happens.”

>>758052
Seconding

>>758052
Agreed last thing we need is being impaired from lack of sleep

We're meeting some passenger tomorrow right? Would be uni-student or something.

>>758125
Later today. It's still like 6:45 AM.

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“I’m gonna get some sleep,” you say. “Could you make a list of provisions we need? I’m going out shopping with Cynthia later, and it’d be nice to have a list of things we actually need to get.”

“Roger that,” Tom says with a casual salute. “Sleep well, sir.”

“Will do.”

You then leave the wardroom with the bags that contain your souvenirs, leaving the groceries for Tom to put away. When you arrive in your cabin, you immediately flop down onto the couch, yanking your boots off and removing your sidearm, which you gingerly place on the coffee table.

You take your hat and shirt and set them on the shelf near your bunk. You then remove the first aid stuff that you bought, setting it on your desk for when you will inevitably have to change your bandages.

Your cabin has a rather curious bathroom arrangement. A door that you thought led to a closet really leads to a small room with a shower, sink, and a toilet that folds up into the wall when not in use. Over all, a pretty neat setup. You look at yourself in the mirror, running a hand along your jaw, where a decent stubble has begun to develop.

You remove several more things from your duffel bag, which you threw under your desk last night. Shampoo, soap, a razor, shaving cream, and a set of clippers for trimming your hair, and potentially your beard, if you ever decide to grow one. You bring the essentials to your bathroom, putting everything where it needs to go.

>Sleep. You can get a shower later.
>Get a quick shower.
>Shower and shave, the whole deal.
>Do something else (what?)

>>758259
>>Sleep. You can get a shower later.

>>758259
Let's just shower. Ten minutes of sleep is a decent trade for that.

>>758259
>Sleep. You can get a shower later

>>758259
>>Sleep. You can get a shower later.

>>758259
> quick shower so we are not filthy when we are woken from our slumber by an emergency

>>758259
>>Sleep. You can get a shower later.

File: Fleet Operations.jpg (1.06 MB, 1920x2560)

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You don’t even take your jeans or jacket off. You immediately go over to your bunk and fall into it, face first. Your head hits the pillow, not the bandaged side though, and you almost instantly fall asleep.

You rush out into the hangar aboard the Abraxis. There are men everywhere, wearing the orange jumpers of the damage control team. You look for your co-pilot, for anyone in a blue jumper really. Alas, they are nowhere to be seen. You make a break for the ready-room, where your squadron’s members should be right now. The alarm indicating a hull-breach screams out as several sets of lights dim and sputter out. The red caution lights begin blinking as you enter the ready room, finding several of your fellow pilots, as well as their co-pilots.

“Lieutenant,” the squadron leader nods at you. He is a square-faced man with a mustache and a crew cut, maybe ten years older than you. There is a small cut on the right side of his forehead that has been thoroughly bandaged. His co-pilot looks worriedly at you.

“Have any of you seen my co-pilot?” You try to keep the panic out of your voice.

“Aye, LT,” your wingmate, Adam Sorenson speaks up. “Maintenance bay number two.” He points toward the bay.

You nod thankfully at him and run out of the ready room, toward the bay. More damage control personnel run all around you as you arrive at the bay. Your fighter, missing half a wing pylon and most of its FCS cluster, sits in the bay. You see a person in a blue jumper climb down from some scaffolding, then speak to some of the maintenance crew. You run up and greet your co-pilot.

>Your co-pilot is a woman about your age. Her long, blond hair tied back in a ponytail.
>Your co-pilot is an older man. He used to be a chief petty officer, but he went through officer school a few years ago.
>Your co-pilot is a man, really more of a kid, who is fresh out of the academy. You are like an older brother to him.
>Your co-pilot is your best friend. You and he have been thick as thieves since you graduated from the academy.

>>758557
>>Your co-pilot is an older man. He used to be a chief petty officer, but he went through officer school a few years ago.

Don't you play with my heart strings Zap

>>758557
>>Your co-pilot is an older man. He used to be a chief petty officer, but he went through officer school a few years ago.

>>758557
> The young man
We need a tragically dead surrogate brother to bring out our nurturing side.

>>758572
>Not feeling the pressing guilt of failing a man a few months from retirement

>>758557
>Your co-pilot is an older man. He used to be a chief petty officer, but he went through officer school a few years ago.

>>758557
>Your co-pilot is an older man. He used to be a chief petty officer, but he went through officer school a few years ago.

Old mentor dude is best dude.

>>758557
>Your co-pilot is your best friend. You and he have been thick as thieves since you graduated from the academy.

>>758557

>Your co-pilot is your best friend. You and he have been thick as thieves since you graduated from the academy

Hey guys:

My car is having a problem. I think it's the ignition switch. I'm going to deal with it however I can, then I'll be back to run some more.

Sorry.

>>758966
Take care man, we'll be waiting

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“Warwick!” You call out to your co-pilot, the man who had basically trained you on how to be a proper sailor. “There’s another Imperial attack! We need to get ready!” He turns to you, grimacing.

“The maintenance boys say our fighter’s seen her last flight,” he frowns. “We’re grounded until they get us another.”

“But command has mobilized all flights,” you reply. “Ours included. They must’ve assigned us a loaner or something.”

He shakes his head. “There are twenty-four functioning birds on this tub,” he replies, hustling you away from the pit. “And there are eighty pilots. Over half of us are grounded for this one.” He motions for you to follow him as he breaks into a jog. “We’ve been assigned to help the damage control people!”

“But we’re pilots,” you say. “I don’t know how to fix things on a Battlecruiser!” You follow him to the maintenance center, where men in orange jumpers give you both tool belts.

“Just follow my lead,” Warwick assures. “I may not look it, but my specialization was maintenance before I went into aviation.” He leads you to a team of mechanics who are already on their way to a part of the ship in need of repair. “As long as these guys give us a job, I can tell you how to help me do it.”

It is at that exact moment that the whole ship shudders, and the lights dim, then go out entirely. There is a flash somewhere down the corridor, the smell of burning flesh, screams, and then nothing.

“Warwick!” You shout, banging your head against the top of your bunk. You look at the clock, seeing that you’ve managed to get seven hours of sleep. You rub your head and get up.

>Get a quick shower.
>Shower and shave. Take your time.
>Head down to the wardroom and see what the crew is doing.

>>759100
>>Shower and shave. Take your time.
Allen needs to see a shrink someday

>>759100
>Shower and shave. Take your time.

Is it weird that I like obviously-dead Warwick already?

>>759100
>Shower and shave. Take your time.

File: 1470559091465.jpg (32 KB, 594x598)

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>>759128
>obviously-dead
You sure about that?

>>759149
Reasonably sure, yes.

>>759196
You might be right. Maybe not though. I have a rather high amount of images of that character saved.

>>759198
If I was a betting man...

File: Straight razor.jpg (39 KB, 736x488)

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You remove your clothes, gathering your first aid supplies and stepping into the bathroom. You then tear the bandages off as you turn the water on. As soon as it is hot enough, you step into the shower, sighing.

You’ve always liked showers almost too hot to stand, part of it is a holdover from the Navy, where the showers were always lukewarm at best. The water stings as it hits your cheek and ear, but you don’t mind. You quickly clean yourself off, washing your hair and body. After almost twenty minutes, you step out of the shower and move over to the mirror above your sink.

You wipe away the condensation and get a good look at yourself. Your stubble definitely needs managed, so you immediately get to work on that. You have an old straight razor, the use of which is something of a forgotten art among most. In fact, you used to have a standard multi-blade safety razor until Warwick gave you a straight razor and taught you how to use it, often saying that it taught you to have steady hands.

He was right, as your hands were always at their steadiest when shaving. You let the blade glide across your jawline and neck, scraping away the shaving cream and stubble cleanly. Within five minutes, your face is totally clean-shaven. You used to be able to get it done in three, but your skills have dulled a bit with time.

As soon as you finish, you redress your wounds, taking extra care with your ear. Then, you get dressed, throwing the Olympus United shirt and some blue jeans on. Your holster is the next thing you sling onto yourself. Then you put your boots and a thin jacket on. And finally, you make sure your service pistol is loaded, and you put it into its holster.

You step out into the access hall and sigh, running your hand across your newly-shaven jaw. It certainly feels good to get some sleep and a good shave. You stretch and sigh, ready for the rest of today.

And I'm gonna call it for tonight! Thanks so much to everyone who was here! I'll be back around 4:00 PM EST tomorrow, though that could change based on my current car issues. If that happens, I'll let you guys know. Anyway, feel free to ask any questions and I'll try to answer them as best as possible.

mood music:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O4-0L8miBv4

>>759291
Cheers, mate.

File: Wardroom.jpg (46 KB, 640x427)

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There are certainly a lot of things to do today, it’s only 13:00, so you have plenty of time before Mr. Lowe’s sister arrives. Of course, you’re going to head over to the parts store with Cynthia, and knowing her, that’ll take a while. And then you’ve got the CIC to get taken care of, seeing as you should get it knocked out at least 12 hours before you have to leave for Ganymede. Then there’s the nagging thought of picking up some more cargo while you’re here. After all, there’s no reason to have empty space in the hold.

You head down to the wardroom, finding Corrigan, Cynthia and Virgo sitting at the tables and enjoying some lunch. You see Tom in the kitchen through the serving window, wearing a large, white chef’s hat. “Hey, captain!” He waves at you through the window, causing your crew to notice you. “I’m making some grub,” he grins. Oh no, it dawns on you that Tom’s really in the kitchen. Making food.

However, when you look over at your crew’s plates, the… You think it’s some kind of soup… Doesn’t look to have crippled any of them, so you begin to wonder of his cooking skills have improved since the Navy.

“Tom,” you reply simply. You then nod at your crew, who either wave or say hello to you. You notice that Corrigan is wearing a dark green t-shirt and blue jeans. Virgo has also changed up his look a little bit, wearing a long-sleeved shirt with a local pub's logo, designed to fit a Thulian.


>Sit next to Cynthia.
>Sit next to Corrigan.
>Sit next to Virgo.
>Sit across from everyone.
Also:
>Ask for some Mystery Stew.
>Don’t get any food.

>>760300
>Sit across from everyone.
>Ask for some Mystery Stew.

>>760300
>Sit across from everyone.
>Ask for some Mystery Stew.
>Conduct a briefing

>>760300
>Sit across from everyone.
>Ask for some Mystery Stew.

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“Could I get a bowl?” You walk over to the serving window. Tom casually hands you a bowl filled with the stew. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it, sir,” he replies. You take your bowl and head over to the tables, where you sit down across from the rest of your crew.

“Good afternoon,” Virgo speaks up first. “I take it you slept in, sir?”

“I was up all night,” you reply casually. “Still, I didn’t expect to sleep so late.” You take a spoonful of the soup, tasting it carefully. It’s actually not that bad. If you had to guess, you’d say it was some kind of roast. There is meat, as well as the vegetables you bought earlier, floating around in a dark broth. “This is pretty good,” you say to Tom, who exits the kitchen with his own bowl and sits next to Virgo.

“Yeah?” He looks optimistically at you. “My cooking skills had to improve after I got out of the Navy,” he explains. “Had to feed myself after all.” He begins eating the soup.

“Captain,” Corrigan speaks up next. “Those bandages… You were in an accident?” She points to your cheek.

You glance over to Cynthia, who merely shrugs and raises her eyebrows.

“Yeah. Something like that.” You decide not to get into the details at the table, seeing as everyone is enjoying their lunch. “So Tom, did you make a list of things we need?”

Tom looks up from his soup. “Yeah,” he replies. “We’re pretty well-stocked for now, though we could use some replacement bulbs for the lights in the cargo hold. Something else that I noticed was that we’re out of cleaning supplies.” He leans back. “That’s going to be essential here really soon.”

>”Cynthia, did you sleep well?”
>”So how is everyone doing?”
>”We’ve got a passenger arriving later today.”
>”What’s the status on the CIC? Can we begin tearing those machines out today?”

>>760447
>”We’ve got a passenger arriving later today.”

>>760447
>”So how is everyone doing?”
>”Cynthia, did you sleep well?”
>”We’ve got a passenger arriving later today.”
>”What’s the status on the CIC? Can we begin tearing those machines out today?”

Is this even a choice?

>>760453
The whole reason I have multiple different options is because I have a pretty in-depth conversation with additional related choices planned for each choice.

I mean, you can choose all of the above, but it means less detail and less characterization.

>>760456
It's just that I can't imagine omitting any of these. Save maybe for "So how is everyone doing?”
The last two options are the order of businesss and not asking how Cyntia slept is just callous.

>>760464
The whole idea of the prompts is that you do a certain thing. When you do that thing, there's a whole write-up focusing on everything important relating to that thing. Then there are other options added to the next prompt based on the things you learned in the previous scene. That lets me put more detail into specific character interactions.

So you can go with all of the above, but you might not be getting as much detail as you would if you did things one at a time. There have been several times where I had to go with all of the above and it meant leaving out important details and forcing them in later.

>>760447
> we've got a passenger arriving today
Don't want Virgo thinking she was an intruder and eating her.

So does that mean only choose one option or just don't be greedy?

>>760477
Ok
>”Cynthia, did you sleep well?”

I've seen QMs combine multiple prompts without loss of detail though

>>760490
I'm normally pretty good at combining these things without losing any details, this is just one of those times where each option has a very different conversation after it than the others.

>>760486
I mean, I don't mind combining options at all, this is just a prompt where the options might diverge into other conversations pretty quickly, especially since this is the first time we've had the whole crew assembled in a while. I just don't want to write a big, five-part write up because I think those just don't look very good.

>>760447
>>”Cynthia, did you sleep well?”

>>760503

> we've got a passenger arriving today

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“So we’re taking on a passenger later today,” you say. “She’s headed to Ganymede, so we won’t have to go out of our way any.”

“A passenger?” Virgo is the first to speak up. “This passenger does realize what kind of ship this is, right? I mean, we do have passenger staterooms, but I’m pretty sure they were designed for military guests back when this was a warship.”

Tom is the next to speak up. “I went ahead and made sure the staterooms were squared away. Our passenger will be travelling more comfortably than any of us, that’s for sure.” He shrugs. “Still, she’s probably going to have to eat meals here in the Wardroom with the rest of us, so I expect the absolute best from everyone, even if you have to fake it.”

“So who exactly is this passenger? She must have a decent amount of money to charter us instead of just taking a liner,” Cynthia speaks up.

“She’s the little sister of an old buddy from the Marines,” Tom speaks up. Technically, he’s not lying. “Our friend didn’t want her going on a liner, for obvious reasons, so he asked us to take her there.”

“What kind of obvious reasons?” Corrigan speaks up next, clearly interested. “Are your passenger liners not the best method for getting around?”

“I’m surprised you would think that,” Tom replies, lighting a cigarette. “Especially since you had to have come to Earth on a liner.” He crosses his arms. “Many of the larger liner companies have safety issues. Not frequent enough to put them under scrutiny from the authorities, but frequent enough that I wouldn’t want to travel aboard one.”

“That makes sense…” Corrigan’s eyes narrow. “I did notice several things that were strange aboard the ships I took to get to Earth. At first, I thought they were just one-time occurrences.”

>”What kind of things happened aboard the ships you were on?” (inquire about Corrigan’s journey to Earth)
>”Tom, what are our passenger staterooms like?” (ask about the accommodations for your passenger)
>”What sort of passengers would the military be carrying aboard this thing?” (ask about the Bad Habit’s history)
>”Are the passenger liners different in the Empire?” (inquire about Imperial starships)
>”Let’s change the subject.” (specify)

>>760670
>”What kind of things happened aboard the ships you were on?” (inquire about Corrigan’s journey to Earth)

>>760670
>”What kind of things happened aboard the ships you were on?” (inquire about Corrigan’s journey to Earth)

I'm really curious about Bad Habit's history

>>760670
> What kind of things happened...
Did your bugs pick up some interesting goings on?

>>760670
>>”What kind of things happened aboard the ships you were on?” (inquire about Corrigan’s journey to Earth)

>>760670
>”What kind of things happened aboard the ships you were on?” (inquire about Corrigan’s journey to Earth)
Inb4 Void Woman

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“Uh…” You raise an eyebrow at Corrigan. “What kind of things happened on the ships that you took to Earth?” You honestly hadn’t heard about the issues apparently plaguing passenger liners.

“Well,” she adopts a thoughtful stance. “I obviously got aboard a liner on Europa, which took me to the crossover station in the Asteroid Belt. From there I was placed on an old vessel with lights that flickered. Also the air smelled of rust and oil.” She pauses for a moment, as if thinking what to omit and what to leave in. “There were twelve of us to a stateroom, though I slept in the hallway to avoid getting in the way of the other passengers. Then, on the first evening, water began to drip from the ceilings, shorting out the electricity in the staterooms. And then rats from somewhere below our deck came up and ran through the halls. After that, there was a six-hour blackout while they tried to fix the reactor, which had apparently suffered a loss of coolant,” she says with a completely straight face. “It was quite terrible, truly.”

Everyone at the table is silent. You’d heard horror stories about space travel, but nothing like that.

“That’s…” Tom finally speaks up. His cigarette falls from his mouth into the empty bowl in front of him. “You certainly had one hell of a bad experience.” He crosses his arms and sighs.

“That makes me feel much better about the voyage I had to take,” Virgo interjects. “The worst we encountered was when the air conditioning went out and they had to activate the emergency heat radiators on the outside of the ship.”

“How does stuff like that even happen?” Cynthia speaks up, wide-eyed.

“Big transport companies lobby the governments to look the other way,” Tom replies cynically. “Doesn’t matter whether it’s Fore-Yu Enterprises or the Offworld Transit Union. They all throw money at officials so that they can operate as cheaply as possible.”

“But is that not bribery?” Corrigan questions Tom, who merely shrugs.

“Yeah, basically. It’s only legal because big companies are doing it.”

>”So Corrigan, what are liners in the Empire like?”
>”You don’t have big, corrupt corporations in the Empire?”
>”Let’s change the subject.” (specify)

>>760847
>>”So Corrigan, what are liners in the Empire like?”

>>760847
>”You don’t have big, corrupt corporations in the Empire?”

>>760847
>"So Corrigan, what are liners in the Empire like?" When they aren't being shot down, Imp Scum

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>>760902
>Shooting down liners
>are_we_the_baddies.gif

>>760847
> So what are liners in the empire like?
Is there no competition between liner companies on the same routes? Otherwise I don't see how one company couldn't just offer decent service and get the majority of customers.

>>760987
Basically all of the liner companies are owned by one of three corporations, who are all equally cheap. They say they can make more money by cramming passengers in like sardines than they can by providing better service. Plus they're all secretly working together to fix prices so that they can build massive fortunes off of people who have no alternative for transport.

Also, since it's going to be a little while before I can post the next write-up, have a Pastebin that I did earlier:
http://pastebin.com/UiW0zHJJ

>>761154
My favorite thing about that entire story is the fact that his name is Weiner.

Anyway, I'm back in a location where I can run. I'll start writing in like five minutes.

"Corrigan," you get her attention. She looks at you with a raised eyebrow. "What are liners like in the Empire?"

She purses her lips, thoughtful at your question. "We do not have liners in the way you think of them. The Reisser Clan owns several dozen passenger ships. Those ships are formerly military transports or cargo ships. They have much more spacious quarters, though they still put many people together in each stateroom." She nods. "Of course, the upper decks are nicer, and they are for the more important guests, while those in steerage share large, communal staterooms or the cargo holds." She looks away. "I did not have very much money, so I was in steerage."

"So what you're saying is that they're not that different from Liners in the Federation, they just have better quality control," Tom replies.

"I suppose so, yes." Corrigan bows slightly. "Though the crew are much nicer aboard Federal liners, even if the ships are not comfortable."

"What do you mean?" You decide to speak up. "Are the crew aboard Imperial passenger ships not friendly?"

"Captain," Corrigan looks at you confusedly. "The crews aboard Imperial passenger liners are usually prisoners on work release, though their managers are usually military personnel." She frowns. "They are... Frightening people. The crew are often not watched thoroughly by their managers."

"They didn't try anything funny, right?" Cynthia speaks up this time.

"I beg your pardon?" Corrigan replies. "They did not do anything that I found humorous."

"She means, did they try to do anything bad to you?" You explain, and her expression changes entirely.

"No, thankfully," she says. "Though I had heard stories of... Things happening."

>"You mentioned the Reisser Clan, do you not have large companies in the Empire?"
>Change the topic. (specify)

>>761400
>"You mentioned the Reisser Clan, do you not have large companies in the Empire?"

>>761400
>Change the topic
Yeah, moving on from potential 'AirCon' territory...

"Do Imperials play sports like we do with favourite teams and all that? Or is a clan vs clan type deal?"

>>761400
> change topic
How was your shopping trip yesterday?

>>761476
Switching to this.

Even Imperial girls gotta love their shopping.

>>761476
Agreed, we can inquire about it in private sometime. There's no need to inflame differences between the crew

File: Corrigan1.jpg (30 KB, 704x400)

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"So how did your shopping trip go?" You decide to brighten the conversation a little.

Corrigan smiles wider than you've ever seen. "It went very well, I think!" She stands up and shows off her new clothes. "Mars is such an amazing place. I never dreamed that I would see so many new things," she says.

"She bought more than I did," Cynthia says. "We were probably out shopping until 02:00. Olympus really is the city that never sleeps."

"So what else did you get?" You raise an eyebrow at Corrigan.

"If you will give me a moment, sir." She turns and jogs to her stateroom. While she is doing whatever she's doing, Tom collects everyone's dishes and takes them to the kitchen.

"So what about you?" You look at Virgo.

"I didn't get much," he admits. "We Magus live rather ascetic lives. It's kind of hard to break that habit. Though I did buy this shirt, and a few others like it." He leans back in his chair, stretching.

"Sir," you hear Cynthia speak up. You look over and see her pointing to the doorway leading to the staterooms.

You turn to see Corrigan in a yellow sundress, with yellow clips in her hair. She looks totally different from the girl in the black suit that you're used to. The dress emphasizes her petite figure. She blushes, then does a quick twirl. "What do you think, sir?"

>Write-in.

>>761819
"It suits you, did you pick it out yourself or consult with Cynthia?"

>>761819
"You look good. Guys, what do you think?"

>>761819
Looks good.

>>761880
this

>>761819
I think yellow is your color.

>>761880
Agreed.

"It looks good on you," you say. "Don't you guys think so?" The rest of your crew nod in agreement.

Corrigan immediately turns red. "Thank you," she says in almost a whisper.

"Yellow is a good color for you," Virgo adds. Corrigan bows slightly, then turns on her heels and returns to her quarters.

"So, how long until you want to head over to that parts store?" You look over at Cynthia.

"Give me a few minutes to get changed into my coveralls, then we can go whenever. She gets up from her seat and goes to head to her quarters.

"You sleep well?" You ask her before she gets out of earshot.

"Yeah," she replies. "That was the best I've slept in a while, thanks." She looks back at you with a small grin. "We'll have to do that again sometime." She then goes off to her quarters.

"My, my, my, sir." Tom looks over at you with a raised eyebrow. "How very sly of you."

"If I didn't know you were joking, I'd probably slap you around some," you joke.

Maybe five minutes later, you see Corrigan leave her stateroom, wearing her blue jeans and t-shirt again.

"Corrigan?" You get her attention. "Can you give me an update on the CIC? I'd like to have a time of day when you can get started."

"Oh," she replies. "I should be able to get started very soon. Probably by 16:00. With Mr. Virgo's help, I should be able to be done within three or four hours." She nods at you.

"Very well," you reply. "Make it so." You look toward the staterooms to see Cynthia clad in light blue coveralls.

"You ready?" She walks up alongside you.

>"Sure."
>"I still have something to do." (specify)

>>762212
>"Sure."

Let's roll.

That dog didn't cost us the 1,500 you were talking about right? No offence to the mutt.

>"Sure."

>>762212
>>"Sure."

>>762212
>>"Sure."

>>762239
The dog was free since he just sort of found us.

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"Sure," you reply. You look over to Tom. "You have the ship."

"Right," he replies with a casual salute. As you go to leave, he palms you the keys to the rental car.

You and Cynthia make your way downstairs, where you see that the rental car from last night is still parked where you left it.

"Cool car," Cynthia says. "Wonder who it belongs to."

You walk up to it and unlock to with the key fob, opening the passenger door and gesturing for Cynthia to get in. "After you," you say.

Cynthia looks like she's about to say something, but she merely grins and gets in.

You hop in the driver's seat and start it up, revving the engine a couple of times for good measure. "What do you think?"

"General Dynamics model 200 LS," she says with a smile, running a hand along the wood trim of the dash. "Very cool."

The drive to the parts store is relatively uneventful, with you and Cynthia passing the time idly chatting. You pull up to the hangar and kill the engine, but Cynthia is out of the car before you can get a word in.

She immediately goes to the various derelict craft that sit in the boneyard in front of the hangar. "That's an Astra Vera 200!" She points to a rusted, yellow fighter. "And this is a Overland S-40, they only built 400 like this!"

"Focus, Cynthia." You hate to rain on her parade, but you're here for a reason. "We're not gonna buy a fighter today. I spent enough time flying one already."

"I know," she looks at you sourly. "I was just window shopping."

"Then window shop for something cool," you say, pointing at a rusted frame identical to the type of fighter you used to fly.

"Good afternoon!" You both look over to see Allie walking out from the hangar, waving. "Oh! Hey there, good to see you again!"

>Introduce Cynthia to Allie.
>Let them get acquainted on their own.

>>762582
>Introduce Cynthia to Allie.

I mean, otherwise we're just rude.

>>762582
>Introduce Cynthia to Allie.

I want then to geek out over engineering stuff together

>>762582
>Introduce Cynthia to Allie.

File: Meeting of great minds.png (565 KB, 627x885)

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"Hey Allie," you call out. She closes the distance between the both of you, shaking your hand. "Cynthia, this is Allie. Allie, this is my chief engineer, Cynthia Thompson." The two of them shake hands.

"So I hear you've hot a Flight 1 Oberon," Allie says to Cynthia. "What do you think of its reactor setup?"

"It definitely isn't the worst setup, but it's a bit dated." Cynthia crosses her arms. "The position of the cooling overcoils is somewhat archaic, though that isn't a bad thing."

"Right," Allie replies. "They tent to run a little hot because of it, but you'll never have to worry about a coolant failure under normal operating conditions."

"Yeah, but refilling the coolant is going to be a pain in the ass," Cynthia complains.

"Not if you have the right tools. They make a special, pressurized nozzle for refilling coolant aboard ships with that setup."

"Really?" Cynthia raises her eyebrows. "You wouldn't happen to have one of those, would you?"

"I've got Oberon parts for days," Allie grins.

>"Allie. Cynthia. Can we go inside and actually browse for parts?"
>"It's good to see you feeling better, Allie."
>Let them keep talking.

>>762866
>>"It's good to see you feeling better, Allie."

>>762866
>Let them keep talking.

We're just passing time, really.

>>762866
>Let them keep talking.

This is nice

>>762866
>Let them keep talking.
Do keep an eye on the time though.

File: Allie.jpg (39 KB, 500x281)

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You consider interrupting them. You really should honestly, but you find yourself enjoying watching them geek out about starships.

"Wait a second, is that a VL-28?" Cynthia points to a pile of spare parts that used to be a fighter.

"Sure is. Model-R," Allie replies proudly. "One of the last ones left. I mean, it's mostly just parts at this point, but I'm trying to compile some schematics so that I can fabricate what I need to put it back together."

"You've got a fab shop?" Cynthia asks, a surprised look on her face.

"It's not the fanciest, but yeah. I only have a few mills and lathes mostly, but it's a fully functioning shop." She points to a small addition to the hangar. "Any parts that I have a print for, I can make in there." She puts her hands on her hips, grinning proudly.

"You with any guilds?"

"Not yet," Allie says almost sadly. "I'm working on getting my certification with the Mechanics Guild." She seems to want to say something else, but she stops herself. "Ah. But you guys are here for parts for your ship, right?"

"That's right," Cynthia replies. "We have a few things in mind. A FCS panel from a Flight 3 would be nice, and maybe a few assorted things."

"Follow me then!" Allie brings you and Cynthia into the hangar, directing you to the area where she has apparently organized Oberon parts.

The two of them drag you through the hangar for almost an hour. You find the FCS panel, then Cynthia sees a new stove, which is apparently needed since the old one is on the verge of breaking. The next thing she sets her eyes on is a set of specialized tools for working on the ship, and after that she discovers a brand new life-support filter, which is surprisingly cheap.

"And that's everything!" Cynthia sits a box of lightbulbs for the cargo hold on the counter, adding to the already substantial pile. Altogether, your total comes to 5,000 Standards, most of which is taken up by the FCS panel and the tools.

>"Sounds good, ring us up." (purchase the things)
>"We need to shave some money off of our purchase." (put some non-essentials back)
>"Allie, would you be willing to buy some old FCS computer machines for scrap? We're clearing the CIC out entirely."

>>763223
>"Sounds good, ring us up." (purchase the things)
>"Allie, would you be willing to buy some old FCS computer machines for scrap? We're clearing the CIC out entirely."

>>763223
>>"Sounds good, ring us up." (purchase the things)
>"Allie, would you be willing to buy some old FCS computer machines for scrap? We're clearing the CIC out entirely."

>>763223
>"Sounds good, ring us up." (purchase the things)
>"Allie, would you be willing to buy some old FCS computer machines for scrap? We're clearing the CIC out entirely."

>>763223
>"Sounds good, ring us up." (purchase the things)
>"Allie, would you be willing to buy some old FCS computer machines for scrap? We're clearing the CIC out entirely."

Yup.

File: Liftoff.jpg (44 KB, 900x348)

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Hey guys:

I'm going to call the session here. With fixing my car earlier today and all that related stuff, I'm too beat to keep writing right now. I'll be back around 5:00 PM EST tomorrow, and I'll run for as long as possible then. I plan on running Sunday as well, if possible.

Feel free to ask any questions about the story and characters, and I'll answer whatever isn't directly a spoiler.

Mood Music:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KFyXM5E7kyg

>>763338
Thanks for running!

If this quest had an OP/theme song, what would it be?

>>763338
Thanks for running, Zap.

>>763338
Thanks for running, looking forward to it

>>763342
Ooh. That's a pretty good question. It'd probably either be:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hWlkmkZW2hk
Or:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a41bERTFBUI

>>763342
Also, I now feel the need to compile a list of theme music for the all of major characters.

I'll probably get on that soon. Which just means more pastebins soon.

File: Allie1.jpg (33 KB, 480x547)

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"Alright," you say. "Ring us up." You put the cash on the counter and step back, crossing your arms and looking at the pile of things for the ship.

Allie hums as she counts the cash and removes the price tags from the parts. "Okay then!" She smiles at you and Cynthia. "I'll get these delivered to your ship by 16:00 today!"

"Good to hear," Cynthia says. "That'll give me enough time to put the FCS panel in and hook the wiring up before we have to weigh anchor."

"So you guys are removing the old CIC on your ship?" Allie looks up at you.

"Yeah," you reply. "Speaking of which, would you be able to buy all of the old machines from us? It'd be easier than taking it all to a scrapper ourselves."

"Sure," Allie grins. "Though you'll be getting a little bit less money than if you took it directly to the scrappers. I have to make some money on it, after all."

"That sounds good to me," you reply. "We've got a pretty good amount of machinery that we need gone."

"Oh! Before I forget," Allie says. "I'll need your name on this bill of sale so the delivery people know where to take everything."

"Okay," you walk over to the counter and sign your name on the cashier copy of the receipt.

"Wait a minute..." Allie reads your name. "Allen Starwind. As in the fighter pilot?" She raises an eyebrow at you.

"That's me," you reply almost reluctantly.

"Cool!" She exclaims. "I never thought I'd have an ace pilot in my shop." She frowns. "Though I won't talk your ear off about the war, I know a lot of vets don't like that." She pauses for a moment. "So I guess you know a lot about fighters then."

"I do," you reply simply.

"So... Look, I know it'll probably be a hassle..." She looks reluctant to speak. "But you saw that old VL-28R out there, right? Well, I'm restoring it..." She slaps her own forehead. "Gah, I'm rambling. Anyway, I was wondering... If you come across any parts for it in your travels, could you snatch them up for me? I promise you'll get paid for each part. I just don't have the resources to go out and search for parts myself."

>"Sure." (accept)
>"I guess..." (reluctantly accept)
>"No. Sorry." (refuse)

>>765325
>"Sure." (accept)
Just keep an eye out right? It wouldn't bother me to help Allie.

>>765325
>>"Sure." (accept)

>>765325
>sure (accept)
She's a great contact to have

>>765325
>>"Sure." (accept)

"Sure," you reply. You figure you might as well help her out. Having a friend who owns a parts store and fabrication shop could prove very useful later.

Allie's eyes light up. "Thank you so much!" She practically bows to you. "You've been such a help to me. I'll tell you what, any time you need parts, or repairs that can't be made without a dedicated shop, feel free to come here and I'll give you a discount." She shakes your hand. "Like I said, I'll have these parts delivered to your ship as soon as possible." With that, you and Cynthia leave the shop.

"I can get that panel installed within about fifteen minutes," Cynthia says as the two of you get back into the car. "Still, it'll take about an hour to install all of the Flight 3 firmware to the central computer."

"What about the rest of the stuff you bought?"

"Well," she frowns thoughtfully. "The lights for the cargo hold can be installed while we're in space, and the stove is going to be an easy thing to put in. Over all, it shouldn't take too long to get everything in good working order."

"That's good to hear," you reply. So far, things are looking up. "Are there any other places we need to hit while we're out?"

"I'm thinking we should stop by the customs office if you want to pick up more cargo," Cynthia says. "And I'd like to see about getting some of that Tappler stuff. We should also get some cleaning supplies." She shrugs. "Up to you where we go first."

>"Hardware store it is." (cleaning supplies)
>"Let's get you some Tappler." (get Tappler for Cynthia)
>"I'm thinking we should check out customs first." (view available cargo)
>"Let's just head back to the ship for now." (save shopping for later)

>>765642
>"I'm thinking we should check out customs first." (view available cargo

>>765642
>"Hardware store it is." (cleaning supplies)

>>765642
>>"I'm thinking we should check out customs first." (view available cargo)

Hey guys. I'm going to be heading to a Halloween party for a little bit. Will be back to write at 8:00 PM EST.

>>765642
>>"Let's get you some Tappler." (get Tappler for Cynthia)

>>765642
>"I'm thinking we should check out customs first." (view available cargo)

Hey guys. I'm still at this party. I promise I'll be back before 10:00 PM, but I can't give an exact time. Sorry.

File: Mars Customs Office.jpg (115 KB, 1024x576)

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"Let's stop by the local customs office first," you say. "I want to see what we've got for potential cargo."

You have Cynthia pull up the map on your communicator, and she directs you to the nearest customs office. It is a building that used to be a CFP barracks before they moved to Ceres. You park the car out front, locking with the remote fob as you and Cynthia walk into the building. There are many other spacers walking through the narrow, high-walled corridors leading to the various rooms. You make your way to the cargo registry, where you notice that the line to the desk is surprisingly short.

You and Cynthia stand side-by-side in the line as it gets smaller. One thing that is nice about a customs office like this is that they have multiple offices for different functions, so you don't have to fall in line behind people clearing their luggage.

"So what kind of cargo are you thinking?" Cynthia looks at you curiously.

"Don't know honestly," you reply. "Probably just something to fill the hold on our way to either Ganymede or New Albany, so ideally cargo that's already on its way there."

"Makes sense," she replies.

Within about five minutes, you arrive at the desk and ask for current cargo contracts.

(OOC: You only have space for one contract this time)

>Water from MARS to CERES (**)
>Cutting oil from MARS to GANYMEDE (****)
>Palladium ingots from MARS to DIONE (****)
>Raw posidium from MARS to TITAN STATION (****)
>Refined posidium from MARS to TITAN STATION (******)
>Food aid from MARS to NEW ALBANY (********)
>Quartz from MARS to VENUS (***)
>Tappler from MARS to EARTH (***)

THE CUBS ARE TEARING ME APART.

File: what could go wrong.jpg (30 KB, 594x383)

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>>767462
>>Food aid from MARS to NEW ALBANY (********)
Nothing can go wrong with food, right?

>>767462
>>Cutting oil from MARS to GANYMEDE (****)
we're going there already

>>767462
>Cutting oil from MARS to GANYMEDE (****)

>>767462
>Cutting oil from MARS to GANYMEDE (****)

File: STOCK PHOTOS YEAH.jpg (29 KB, 700x394)

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You select the contract to take cutting oil from Mars to Ganymede, seeing as you're already headed there anyway.

You and Cynthia leave the room and walk back into the main hall, where you notice a somewhat large crowd of people gathered near the front door. You walk up and see a woman who is maybe a couple of years older than you arguing with two uniformed police officers.

"I already told you creeps, I'm not this Blackheart person you're looking for!" She has her hands on her hips, but you can tell her bravado is wavering.

"Ma'am," one of the officers interrupts, taking a step toward her. "You fit the physical description of the suspect, now we need you to come downtown with us for questioning."

"B-but I haven't done ANYTHING!" She backs away from the cop, shouting angrily. "I was just here to clear my stuff with customs!" She glances at the crowd which you and Cynthia are now part of.

"Hey," you get the attention of a man standing next to you. "What's this all about?" He raises an eyebrow at you.

"Can't you tell?" He points to a wanted poster on the wall. "That lady's Blackheart, the famous pirate." You look at the poster. The woman certainly bears a resemblance to the pirate on the poster, but you notice some glaring differences.

Blackheart has shorter hair of a different color, and she has an eyepatch. This woman's face is similar, they could probably be sisters, but they don't look like the same person to you. You look back and even notice that the woman has different colored eyes.

"W-wait! STOP!" You see one of the cops grab the woman by her arm and throw her against the wall.

>Intervene. You aren't going to let an innocent woman be harassed for merely looking like a pirate.
>Keep moving. It's none of your business.

>>767969
>>Intervene. You aren't going to let an innocent woman be harassed for merely looking like a pirate.
Here's hoping they aren't corrupt cops and beat our ass for trying to help. And if they are, maybe we can bribe them.

>>767969
>Intervene. You aren't going to let an innocent woman be harassed for merely looking like a pirate.

>>767969
>>Intervene. You aren't going to let an innocent woman be harassed for merely looking like a pirate.

>>767969
>Keep moving. It's none of your business.


Yeah, because the police just LOVE it when a bystanding civilian interferes with an arrest.

>>767983
>>767991
>>768044
Jeez guys they're not summarily executing the woman or even charging her, they're bringing her to the office for questioning. This is absolutely none of our business.

>>767969
>Intervene. You aren't going to let an innocent woman be harassed for merely looking like a pirate.

>>768138
I'm with this guy, she's not worth the trouble.
Bysides we almost got killed form our last excursion can we please just stick with the crew and ship.

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You cut through the crowd. Looking back, you see Cynthia open her mouth to speak up, but she merely nods at you and steps away from the crowd. As you step through the crowd, you notice something on the ground, an ID card. You pick it up and notice the woman's photo on the front. Her name is Lauren Harrington, and she's a diplomat from the independent colony Reznor's Pride.

"Officers?" You step toward the confrontation and the other officer, an older man, steps forward.

"Sir, this is really none of your business," he says tiredly. "We're taking this woman in for questioning."

"Why?" You raise your eyebrows. "You can't detain a person for resembling a criminal."

"But we can hold her until her identity is confirmed," the other says, still pressing the woman against the wall. "She didn't have any ID on her."

"If you'd just listen to me, you'd know I dropped it on the way out here!" The woman struggles against the cop. "It's probably on the floor somewhere."

"Like I'm gonna believe you're a diplomat," the cop replies. "Quit insulting my intelligence."

"Sirs," you interject. You hold up the ID card. "Is this sufficient ID for you to confirm her identity?"

The older cop gestures for you to hand him the card, raising his eyebrows. You hand it to him and he holds it close to his face, scrutinizing it. "Lauren Harrington..." He sighs, looking at his partner angrily. "Let her go, Jerry."

"What, why?" Officer Jerry merely raises an eyebrow smugly.

"Because she's a diplomat from Reznor's Pride," he says wit ha growl. He walks up behind his partner and grabs him by the collar, yanking him away from the woman. "I am so sorry, miss." He really does look sorry. You watch as he hands Lauren her ID and drags his partner away. "God dammit, Jerry! I told you she didn't look like Blackheart, but you just had to get all macho!" He drags him through the doorway, where they both begin to walk away. You hear the older officer keep speaking, but you can't tell what he's saying.

"Thank you," the woman bows slightly to you. "I wasn't looking forward to spending an afternoon in jail because of my resemblance to that woman." She nods to the poster. "I'll really try to be less careless with my ID." She looks quizzically at you. "May I ask your name?"

"Allen Starwind," you reply with a nod.

"Well, Mr. Starwind, I greatly appreciate your patronage, and I hope we cross paths in the future." She bows again and turns, walking away. "Though hopefully under less stressful circumstances," she calls back to you. "Good day to you, Mr. Starwind."

"Well how about that," Cynthia says, walking up next to you. You notice that the crowd has dispersed. She crosses her arms. "Where to next?"

>"Let's get you some Tappler." (obtain Tappler for Cynthia)
>"How about the hardware store." (get cleaning supplies)
>"Let's head back to the ship. We can shop more tomorrow before we leave." (go back to the Bad Habit)

>>768480
>"Let's get you some Tappler." (obtain Tappler for Cynthia)

>>768480
>"H about the hardware store." (get cleaning supplies)
I think we should get all our shopping done before we go back

>>768480
>>"Let's get you some Tappler." (obtain Tappler for Cynthia)

>>768480
>>"Let's get you some Tappler." (obtain Tappler for Cynthia)

>>768480
>"Let's get you some Tappler." (obtain Tappler for Cynthia)

File: He got that herb.jpg (2.12 MB, 2048x2048)

2.12 MB JPG

"I'm thinking we should go find you some Tappler," you reply. "Let's find a health foods store." The two of you get back to the car and look up the nearest health foods place on your communicator. It's across town, but near the highway that cuts through the center of the city.

You pull out onto the highway and accelerate, getting the most out of the rental car as you can. You notice a formation of CFP frigates fly low overhead, their engines shaking the roadway as they pass. You pull off of the highway and into the neighborhood where the store is located. It is an older development, with short, squatty buildings made of red bricks.

The store itself is located on the bottom floor of a large, brick building underneath the highway. You pull up outside and get out of the car, making sure to lock up before heading inside. You open the wooden door to the shop and immediately your nose is assaulted by the scent of hundreds of different herbs, all mixing together to form a single, overpowering odor.

The shop is cluttered with various products in hand-labeled jars. You and Cynthia make your way through the shop and find the counter at the back. "Hello?" You call out, looking for the shopkeeper.

"I am here," a Thulian's voice carries from the back room. "Though I am not fast. Please give me a moment." An ancient Thulian, probably 900 years old, walks through the doorway behind the counter. "These old bones just aren't as fast as they used to be." He immediately locks eyes with you, inhaling sharply. "You..." He raises an eyebrow. "... The blessing of Aphor is on you, child..." He smiles slightly before continuing. "Though, that does not matter." He crosses his arms. "I suppose you and your wife are looking for some herbal remedies... Fertility herbs perhaps?" He grins, looking at you and Cynthia.

"W-we're not married!" You reply hastily, your face getting hot. "She's just my mechanic. I'm a starship captain."

"Ah..." The thulian replies sagely. "And what is is that you are looking for, Mr. Captain, and Miss Engineer?"

>"How did you know I have Aphor's blessing?"
>"So why is a thulian like yourself selling herbal medicine on Mars?"
>"We're here for Tappler." (get straight to business)
>Write-in

>>768845
>>"How did you know I have Aphor's blessing?"

>>768845
>>"How did you know I have Aphor's blessing?"

>>768845
>"How did you know I have Aphor's blessing?"

>>768845
Who is aphor? And what does is blessing mean?

File: Herbalist1.png (396 KB, 783x810)

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How did you know about Aphor's Blessing?" You raise your eyebrows at the herbalist.

Virgo had given you the blessing of Aphor when he saved your life, right after the Abraxis Incident. According to Virgo, the blessing stabilized your soul and kept it in your body while you recovered, though you don't exactly believe in all that stuff.

"Ah, the Blessing..." He replies with a hum. His voice sounds coarse, like sandpaper. "I felt it," he points to his head. "When you've been a Magus for 800 years, these kind of things come naturally to you." He smiles. "Though, I burned my bridges with the council many centuries ago... Bunch of fools, all of them." He closes his eyes and puts a hand near your face, making a low noise similar to Virgo when he uses his his own powers. "Hm... I see..." He grins, eyes still closed.

"What are you doing?" Cynthia looks worriedly at the whole spectacle.

"This is very interesting..." The thulian says with a furrowed brow. "You were on the verge of death when Aphor's blessing reached you. She yanked you from perdition and returned you to the light. A Magus Aphorius saw great strength in you..." He opens his eyes. "You are destined for great things, Allen Starwind. Chosen. That is, if you choose to seize greatness." The herbalist opens his eyes, grinning.

>"Wait. How did you do that?"
>"Uh... This is a little bit to much for me. Let's just get our Tappler and get going."
>"You're a Magus?"

>>769077
>"Neat"
>"Do you have tappler?"

>>769077
>"Wait. How did you do that?"

>>769077
>>769095
I have a feeling our past and recent experiences with Thulians affords us some ability to be casual when they talk mystically.

>>769077
>>"Wait. How did you do that?"

>>769077
>>"Uh... This is a little bit to much for me. Let's just get our Tappler and get going."

>>769077
Also what is it with ancient alien elders and herbalism?
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=imLFt4hjALs

File: Herbalist.png (483 KB, 732x738)

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"Wait," you reply abruptly. "How did you do that?"

"As I said," the herbalist replies. "I am a Magus. However, I am not a Magus Aphorius." He puts up a finger, taking a stance that reminds you of a professor. "I am a Magus Nesrus. I follow the School of Nesra," he says. "We deal with the workings of the heart and mind. I could quite easily show you your greatest fantasy and make it seem like reality. And I could do the same with your worst nightmare. I can also gather knowledge and experiences from the minds of people." He walks out from behind the counter and stretches tiredly. "Though I would not wish to use my powers for harm. I have taken a vow to protect the innocent. And to destroy all evil I encounter." He grins at you. "Though my days of fighting are far behind me. I merely fight small injustices wherever I find them, using my words more than my abilities."

"That's amazing," Cynthia says. "So you can read peoples' minds to learn what they know?"

"Exactly. It is very useful when attempting to learn new things," he says thoughtfully. "Though I prefer to learn through more conventional means when possible, it feels more... Genuine."

"So I imagine you'd learn a lot in 900 years," Cynthia replies. "It must be amazing to see everything you've seen."

"Amazing is certainly one word to describe it..." He smiles sadly. "Though it is also quite painful. Bittersweet would be a good term. I have made many friends... And lost many as well." He chuckles. "Oh, but listen to me ramble. You came here to look for herbs, right?"

>"We're here for Tappler."
>"Do you know any Magus Aphorius?"
>Write-in.

>>769334
>>"We're here for Tappler."

>>769334
>"We're here for Tappler."

>>769334
>>"We're here for Tappler."

>>769334
>"We're here for Tappler."

Gonna call it for tonight guys. Thanks for playing! I'll run from 5:00 PM tomorrow to around 2:00 AM. As always, feel free to ask any questions.

What do you guys think happened to the Abraxis?

Mood Music:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Swxw2t-9ir4

>>769623
An experimental soul sundering weapon was either used on it or blew back killing most of the crew.

>>769650
>soul sundering weapon
I can promise you it wasn't that.

The whole thing about Aphor dragging Allen's soul back into his body is because he was so badly injured that he was actually dying when Virgo found him.

>>769687
Oh, then someone blew it the fuck up

File: Herbalist's Shop.jpg (346 KB, 1600x900)

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“We’re here to get some Tappler,” you reply. The herbalist looks at you with a neutral expression, as if studying you.

“Not for you…” He pauses, humming. “For your engineer?” He looks over at Cynthia.

“Yeah,” she replies. “Does this Tappler stuff actually work?”

The herbalist grins happily. “Of course,” he says. “Though it is mostly grown here on Mars, Tappler is actually native to my home planet of Thalos.” He walks over to a shelf on the far side of the store. Though he is old, this thulian is taller than Virgo, towering over Cynthia as he passes. He plucks two glass jars off of the shelf. “Tappler is a root with a wide range of medicinal properties. It regulates the circadian rhythm, increases blood flow to the brain, aids in healing, and even smells quite nice.” He weighs the two jars in his hands, raising an eyebrow. “I have ground Tappler for tea, and whole Tappler root for other purposes. I have heard that some spacers chew on it like tobacco.” He hands the jars to Cynthia. “On most planets, this stuff is relatively expensive, but here on Mars, you can get it on the cheap. Only 100 Standards per jar. Each jar can make around 40 cups of tea, and a cup’s effects will last around 24 hours on average.”

“Thank you,” you reply, walking up to the counter. You pay the relatively tiny sum of 100 Standards and the two of you get ready to leave the shop.

“Excuse me, Captain Starwind.” You look back at the herbalist, who is now polishing the countertop. “If you are still in the company of your Magus Aphorius friend, would you tell him that Gemini sends his regards?”

“Sure,” you reply. With that, you and Cynthia leave the shop and return to the car. You start the engine as Cynthia examines the jar of Tappler.

“So where to next?” Cynthia looks over to you.

>”Hardware store.” (get cleaning supplies)
>”Back to the ship.”

>>771428
>>”Hardware store.” (get cleaning supplies)

>>771428
>>”Back to the ship.”
lets just get on with it

>>771428
>”Hardware store.” (get cleaning supplies)

>>771428
>>”Hardware store.” (get cleaning supplies)

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“That makes sense,” she says. “It’d be nice to get a set of shop-lights too. We might need them if a set of lights goes out in the reactor room. I think they might be on the fritz.”

“Duly noted.” You pull out the communicator and hand it to Cynthia, who looks up a hardware store nearby. It is maybe a five minute drive, which is quite convenient.

The store itself is a big-name place that can be found on many Federal colonies. You and Cynthia enter the store and begin browsing. Within about ten minutes, you find everything you need as far as cleaning supplies, and you get ready to go to the checkout desk. However, you notice something interesting on a clearance shelf.

An old SpacerView TV with a hookup designed to access the Cloud-Net’s video streaming services. It is an older model, with a transmitter that is more robust. Though its channel-range is slightly narrower than modern ones, it will likely last forever. Not to mention it can access news feeds from Imperial, Federal, CFP, and Independent sources.

It would be incredibly useful, but you notice that it is rather expensive, at 1,500 Standards. With that and the cleaning supplies, you would be looking at a bill of 2,000 Standards, and if you decide to get the shop lights for Cynthia, it will be another 500 Standards. However, you realize how important it would be to have a TV so that you can have easy access to the news.

>Get the TV, lights, and cleaning supplies. (2,500 Standards)
>Get the cleaning supplies and lights. (1,000 Standards)
>Just get the cleaning supplies. (500 Standards)
>Get the cleaning supplies and TV. (2,000 Standards)

(OOC: You have 10,500 Standards)

>>771857
>Get the TV, lights, and cleaning supplies. (2,500 Standards)
We'll need to know when we are put into a wanted list by any of the factions.

>>771857
>>Get the TV, lights, and cleaning supplies. (2,500 Standards)

>>771857
>Get the TV, lights, and cleaning supplies. (2,500 Standards)
Information is key

>>771857
>>Get the TV, lights, and cleaning supplies. (2,500 Standards)

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Ah fuck. I wasn't paying attention. You guys have 5,600 Standards currently, since you bought stuff at the parts store earlier. My bad.

Feel free to adjust your votes accordingly.