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Wulfrig crosses his arms, rolling his eyes at you. “Well, human?” He chuckles a little. “Did you see Solfrid pass by here or not? I don’t like having my time wasted by lesser trifles such as this. I’m quite an important shaman, you know.”

You frown at Wulfrig before speaking. “Has she done something wrong?” You shrug at the little man.

“Something wrong?” He huffs at you. “She is part of our cultural mission. We can’t just be leaving without her,” he scoffs.

One of the burly Psirinean bodyguards standing behind Wulfrig whispers to the other, and the other elbows him in an attempt to shut him up. However, Wulfrig seems to have heard what the first one said, because he turns to face him. “I’m sorry,” he says in a dangerous tone. “I didn’t quite catch that.” Then, he presses a hand against the bodyguard’s stomach, and the man instantly crumples to the ground, groaning in agony. Wulfrig crouches next to him. “You’re going to have to speak up.” He grabs the man by the hair, dragging his head up enough to make eye-contact with him.

“I s-said…” The bodyguard groans. “She probably left because of…” He stutters.

“Because of what?” Wulfrig places his other hand against the side of the man’s head.

“Please, don’t!” The man yelps. The other bodyguard merely looks on fearfully. “I said that she probably left because of you, s-sir!” He looks like he’s about to start weeping.

Wulfrig looks at the bodyguard with an expression that reminds you of a snake. “I see…” He then grins and releases the bodyguard, stepping back. “Very good, thank you for being honest with me.” He sneers at the downed man as he tries to stand. The other bodyguard helps his comrade to his feet as Wulfrig turns to you. “Now, human,” he practically commands. “Have you seen Solfrid or not?”

>”Haven’t seen her.” (lie)
>”She’s upstairs.” (truth)
>(to bodyguards) “Your boss is an asshole.”
>”I don’t like the tone you’re taking with me.” (hostile)
>Write-in.

>>838317
>>”Haven’t seen her.” (lie)

>>838317
>>”She’s upstairs.” (truth)

>>838317
> your boss is an asshole
You're leaving already? What a pity!

Just wanna deflect this shit, why is he even asking us? Also I don't wanna piss him off too bad in case he does magic on us. Maybe he'll turn us into a space frog.

>>838353
If no-one else is gonna vote I'll support lying then. And not even feel bad for it

>>838317
>your boss is an asshole

>1 vote for truth
>2(?) votes for lie
>2 votes for "your boss is an asshole"

I'll wait ten more minutes for extra votes, then I'll either combine the tied ones, or just roll a d2.

>>838400
Na I said I'll switch if no-one else voted, they did though.

>>838422
Oh, okay then. Give me a little bit to change the write-up.

“I feel sorry for you guys,” you say to the guards. The injured one glances back at you. “Your boss is an asshole.” You cross your arms.

Wulfrig scowls at you. “Watch your tongue, human filth.”

“I mean, even when I was in the Navy, my commanders never assaulted me.” You continue, a crooked grin spreading across your face. The bodyguards glance at each other worriedly.

“I believe I told you to watch your tongue,” Wulfrig continues. He takes a step toward you.

“And I believe I don’t have to listen to you, little man.” You take a step toward him.

Wulfrig practically snarls at you. “Little man?” His eyes narrow. “Do you have any idea who you’re talking to?” He clenches his fists as you glare down at him. “I am a shaman, as well as a great scholar among my people.”

“So you’re telling me you’re a big deal on your home planet,” you reply, unimpressed. “Why does any of that matter here on Ganymede?” You glance over Wulfrig’s shoulder. The injured bodyguard shakes his head rapidly, a look of pure fear on his face.

Wulfrig closes his eyes, rubbing the bridge of his nose and muttering something. “You have strained my patience for too long, human.” With that, his eyes open wide and he takes another step toward you. He presses a hand against your side in the same manner that he had done with his bodyguard moments ago. It all happens faster than you can react.

>Roll a 1d100 (best of three) to determine how badly it hurts you.*

*DC higher than normal on account of unexpected action

Rolled 93 (1d100)

>>838482
Shaman mindspace fight when

>>838482
Obviously your field of study doesn't include interpersonal relations cause you would fail hard.

Rolled 28 (1d100)

>>838482
I reject your imposition of pain into my reality

>>838508
If you keep rolling like that soon I would say.

You feel a kind of pressure, almost like a bass drum being hit near you. Your ears pop and the air around you shakes. There is some kind of heat around the spot where Wulfrig’s hand makes contact.

And that’s all that happens. It stings a little bit, and your ears begin to ring slightly, but you don’t find yourself writhing on the ground in pain. You raise an eyebrow at Wulfrig, who looks up at you in confusion.

“But how?” He manages. However, as soon as he speaks, you push the small man away with enough force to knock him to the ground. His eyes are still wide with what you imagine is a mix of confusion and fear.

His bodyguards move to pick him up by his arms, bringing him to his feet. The uninjured bodyguard glances at you, nodding slightly. Then, he looks down at Wulfrig. “Sir, I don’t believe Solfrid is around here. Perhaps she went to another dock.”

Wulfrig looks over at the man, then back at you. “Human,” he manages another sentence. “What is your name?”

“Allen Starwind,” you reply coldly.

“Starwind,” he nods. His face is back to normal now. “I shall remember it.” With that, he spits onto the ground, glaring at you. “Pray that we do not cross paths in the future.”

“Is that a threat?” You cross your arms.

“Not in the slightest,” he replies. “It is merely a warning.” He then turns to the injured bodyguard and whispers something. The bodyguard whispers something back. “Unless you have any information about Solfrid’s whereabouts, I’ll be leaving.” He glances at you, then turns on his heels, walking away with his guards. You sigh to yourself.

“What was that all about?” The voice of one of your crew catches your attention.

>Who is it?

>>838592
Our XO, who came out with an automatic shotgun.

>>838592
> Tripe

>>838615
Don't tell me there are no taking dogs in the future, he just had nothing to say up till now

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>>838615
You realize that Tripe can't talk, right?

You know, 'cause he's a dog.

>>838613
Gonna have to support this, shit just went a bit too spooky

>>838592
>Tom
"Just sending off some fresh produce salesmen, they didn't bring anything good though; only fruits."
"It was just some Psirinean exchange leader wondering if Solfrid was aboard."

>>838621
Mayhaps the brief contact left some mild hallucinogenic effects on Allen? Ahaha.

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You look over to see Tom walking between two large crates, carrying a shotgun in one hand.

“Those Psirineans were looking for Solfrid,” you reply. Tom lights a cigarette as he walks up to you.

“Why? She a fugitive or something?” He leans the shotgun against the hydraulic support.

“Not quite,” you say. “She was part of a cultural exchange program before I hired her.” You shrug. However, Tom goes wide-eyed.

“Sir, you realize that those programs are sponsored by universities, right? They were probably looking for her because she’s not supposed to leave the group.” He sighs, taking a long drag of his cigarette.

“Well, she wanted the job,” you shrug.

“Just because someone says they want to join up doesn’t mean it is the most prudent decision, captain.” Tom frowns at you. “Now you know I’ve never been one to question your judgment, but this may end up biting us on our asses.”

“It’s fine,” you say. “They don’t know she’s aboard.” Tom groans, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“Fine, sir.” He finally relents. “So anyway, it looked like they were trying to start trouble, what happened?”

“Their boss was a jerk,” you reply. “A real Napoleon type. Short dude with an even shorter fuse.”

“And let me guess,” Tom grins. “You just couldn’t resist lighting it.”

“You know it,” you chuckle.

“Seriously though,” he continues. “You’ve got to stop getting in so many confrontations with people.”

“Why?” You raise your eyebrows. “It’s carried me through life pretty well so far.”

Tom takes another long drag before continuing. “Because one day, that luck’s gonna run out.” He reaches over and pats his shotgun. “And when that happens, I might not be there with some buckshot to back you up.”

“Fair enough,” you reply.

“So anyway, what are you planning on doing now? It’s getting pretty late.”

>”I’m going to get some rest, I’m beat.”
>”I’m going to go see how Solfrid is settling in.”
>”I’m going to go visit a crew member.” (specify)
>Write-in.

>>838718
>>”I’m going to go see how Solfrid is settling in.”

>>838718
>”I’m going to go see how Solfrid is settling in.”
>>Ask her about when she is expected to get back to her family.

She probably has family who are gonna be worried sick about her. If she sends messages to tell them she's alright, tell her to keep her current status quiet, no locations or saying she's on the Bad Habit.

>>838718
>”I’m going to go see how Solfrid is settling in.”

>>838718
>>”I’m going to go see how Solfrid is settling in.”
Don't worry Tom, if I incite a space war it just means there will be more arms that need shipping.

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“I’m going to see how Solfrid is settling in,” you say. With that, the two of you walk back into the ship, parting ways when Tom goes to take the shotgun back to the armory.

You remember that Tom told her to go to stateroom 5, so you immediately head there. Once you arrive, you knock on the door and wait.

Almost immediately, Solfrid opens the door. “Oh, hello Captain!” She nods at you, then steps aside, gesturing for you to enter.

“Hey, Solfrid.” You enter the stateroom to see that most of her luggage remains unpacked, sitting on the bottom bunk, apparently she prefers sleeping in the upper one. “Getting settled in alright?”

“Indeed,” she replies. “I see that much of the interiors of these vessels are quite different from the Kestrels in service with my peoples’ armed forces.”

“You keep calling my ship a Kestrel,” you frown.

“Well yes,” she says with a bit of confusion. “My people bought several dozen of these vessels from your people after first contact was made. We made our own modifications to them and put them into military service.” She shrugs. “I had no idea that they were referred to as Oberons by your people.” She sits at her desk, turning to face you.

“Anyway,” you decide to change the subject. “Wulfrig and his people were looking for you down in the dockyards.”

She seems frightened upon learning this. “Y-you didn’t tell him anything, right?”

“No, I didn’t.” You sigh before continuing. “I wasn’t aware that you basically ran away though. Do you have any way of letting your family know where you are? Otherwise, they might think something bad has happened to you.”

Solfrid looks thoughtfully at you, humming. “I suppose I could send them a message via public terminal. They’ve got a bank of them out in the dockyards.” She frowns. “But if Wulfrig is down there, I might have to do it tomorrow. We’ll still be in port by then, right?”

“Yeah, until tomorrow evening.” You nod.

“Very well,” she smiles. “Then I’ll send them a message before we leave.”

>”Alright then, I’ll leave you to your unpacking.” (ends conversation)
>”You just missed dinner. Do you want me to see if there are any leftovers?”
>”Our next two destinations are Triton and New Albany. Both of them are somewhat… Unstable places, politically speaking.” (warn her about next destinations)
>”Is there anything you need while we’re here? Maybe something we can get tomorrow?”
>Write-in.

>>838958
>>”Our next two destinations are Triton and New Albany. Both of them are somewhat… Unstable places, politically speaking.” (warn her about next destinations)

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hi

>>838958
>>”Our next two destinations are Triton and New Albany. Both of them are somewhat… Unstable places, politically speaking.” (warn her about next destinations)

>>838958
>”You just missed dinner. Do you want me to see if there are any leftovers?”

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“Our next two destinations are Triton and New Albany,” you add. “They’re… Unstable places, from a political standpoint.”

“How so?” Solfrid raises her eyebrows at you, leaning forward in her chair.

“Well,” you start. “Triton is in the middle of some big, armed protests.” You frown, uneasy at the lack of info about your second destination. “And I’ve only heard rumors about what’s happening on New Albany, but none of it sounds good. Talk of people fighting the militias, commando units being sent in, guerrilla fighting, stuff like that.”

“That’s…” She trails off. “That’s so cool!” She pumps her fist. “See, I’d never get to see stuff like that if I stayed with the culture mission.” She grins. “Now I can see what the life of a spacer is all about.”

You sigh, not wanting to go too deep into the crushing reality of things. “Look,” you begin. “I was in the Great Interstellar War. So if I say a place is bad news, it means things are really going sideways there. I’d advise you to not leave the ship when we’re at both places.” You cross your arms.

“Oh…” Solfrid looks at the floor dejectedly. “Okay then.”

Well great, now she’s pouting. “Look, Solfrid,” you begin. “We’ll get plenty of chances to explore interesting places that aren’t in the middle of an armed conflict.” She looks back up at you.

“But why does it matter if we’re visiting a place like that? It’s not like the soldiers are going to shoot at people who don’t have guns, right?”

>”Look, I’m the captain, and my decision is final on this.” (firm)
>”Soldiers don’t just shoot at other soldiers, trust me on that.” (explain using prior experience)
>”Fine, but don’t come crying to me if you end up with a bullet wound because of your naiveté.” (wash your hands of the issue)
>Write-in.

>>839189
>”Soldiers don’t just shoot at other soldiers, trust me on that.” (explain using prior experience)
Hostages, crossfire, bombings, raceism (I bet there is a conspiracy of space elves controlling the governments).

>>839189
>>”Soldiers don’t just shoot at other soldiers, trust me on that.” (explain using prior experience)

>>839189
>>”Soldiers don’t just shoot at other soldiers, trust me on that.” (explain using prior experience)

>>839189
>>”Soldiers don’t just shoot at other soldiers, trust me on that.” (explain using prior experience)
>”Soldiers don’t just shoot at other soldiers, trust me on that.” (explain using prior experience)
The space elves seem super isolationist, I doubt they've played any role in space politics

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“Soldiers don’t just shoot at other soldiers,” you say as though you’re describing the color of the sky. You then lean against the wall, crossing your arms. “A battlefield is not a place that facilitates life. Everything about war is death and waste, and civilians are caught in the crossfire every time.” You frown sadly as you begin dispensing the hard facts. “Bombs don’t care what flag you wear on your shoulder, or if you’re a child or a little old lady. Death squads kill entire villages and burn them to the ground. War is a muddy business when you’re right there at the front. You sometimes have a very hard time telling enemies from everyone else. And it gets even muddier when one side doesn’t even wear a uniform.” You sigh.

“Oh…” Solfrid looks at you with wide eyes.

“And it gets worse. The longer soldiers spend out on the battlefield without leave, the more easily they justify immoral acts, until they eventually become commonplace.” You shrug, remembering your time based planetside, near the front lines. “There were guys who you’d see coming back from six-month tours… They didn’t even look alive anymore, like even existing in the battlefield was impossible for a living thing, so they became these… Moving corpses, corpses who just follow orders.”

She looks horrified as you explain the grittier details.

“And it makes sense,” you continue. “When you see people doing the worst things imaginable to each other on a daily basis, you don’t really become numb to it, you kill off the part of you that is repulsed by the very idea of it. That part of you ceases to exist entirely, and you’re left with this… This void,” you trail off, shuddering at the memories.

“Look,” you finally continue. “The point is, I’ve seen plenty of innocent people get killed, and far worse than that, in places where war is going on. But even worse than that is the places just outside of the direct fighting. Places where people rotate back to once they’ve been in combat for too long. That’s where the really bad stuff happens…”

“Like what?” Solfrid shrinks back a little bit.

“You honestly don’t want to know,” you reply with no emotion. “But trust me, any place where active conflict is happening is a place where you don’t want to be. Take my word for it.”

“Okay,” she finally relents.

>”I’ll leave you to your luggage then.” (ends conversation)
>”You just missed dinner. Do you want me to see if there are any leftovers?”
>”Is there anything you need while we’re here? Maybe something we can get tomorrow?”
>Write-in.

>>839477
>>”You just missed dinner. Do you want me to see if there are any leftovers?”

>>839477
>”You just missed dinner. Do you want me to see if there are any leftovers?”
Don't want to be all "here have nightmares, by now!".

>>839477
>”You just missed dinner. Do you want me to see if there are any leftovers?”

>>839477
>”You just missed dinner. Do you want me to see if there are any leftovers?”
I was wondering did Wulfrig ever threaten or hurt you?

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You step toward the door, gesturing for Solfrid to stand up. “You actually just missed dinner,” you say. “Want me to see about heating up some leftovers for you?”

Solfrid’s eyes light up. “That would be wonderful!” She follows you out into the corridor. “I haven’t eaten today.”

“Well I hope there’s a lot of leftovers then,” you reply with a grin as the two of you reach the wardroom. You point to the kitchen. “My XO, Tom, the blond guy about my age? He makes a mean bell peppers and beef. Let me see if I can heat some up for you.” You then point to the seats. “Go ahead and sit, it’ll take a few minutes.”

She sits down at one of the booths as you open up the fridge, seeing the various Tupperware containers with leftovers in them. The largest one has the bell peppers and beef in it. You yank the container out of the fridge and empty the contents into a pan, then you turn the stove on and begin whistling as you heat up the leftovers.

Within about five minutes, the contents of the pan are sizzling and ready to serve, so you carefully scoop it onto a plate, turn off the stove, and head out to greet Solfrid, who looks unreasonably happy at the food.

“Thank you very much, sir.” She grins as you set the plate down in front of her, then begins wolfing down the simple meal.

“So what was Wulfrig like?” You cross your arms, remembering the way he had treated his own bodyguards.

“A jerk,” she replies bluntly. “He always had to act superior to everyone for no reason.” She frowns. “Any particular reason?”

“Well, when I saw him,” you trail off, looking for the right words. “He did this… Thing where he pressed his hand against one of his bodyguards. The guy looked like he had been kneed in the stomach.” Solfrid’s eyes go wide at your description.

“That’s called a flow interruption.” She practically drops her fork. “I feel bad for whichever guard he did it to.” She sighs.

“Well what is a flow interruption?”

“Basically,” she begins. “It is an attack that shamans use, since they can target pressure points to alter the body’s natural flow of energy. It stops all energy flow from that specific pressure point, and constricts the nerve endings connected to it.” She grimaces. “It can even have long-lasting effects like aneurysms and cancers if you do it right.”

“He tried it on me too,” you shrug. “But nothing happened when he did it.” Solfrid raises an eyebrow at you.

“Maybe your points are different,” she replies. “I suppose it would make sense for a human to have different pressure points that a Psirinean.” She quickly raises a hand. “But I’m no expert, so I could be mistaken.”

>”Well, I’m going to head up to my quarters and get some rest.” (ends conversation)
>”What do you think of the ship so far?”
>Is there anything you’ll be needing from the local stores while we’re here?”
>Write-in.

>>839861
>>”What do you think of the ship so far?”
>Is there anything you’ll be needing from the local stores while we’re here?”
>It was odd, it was warm and popped my ears but not much else.

>>839861
>Is there anything you’ll be needing from the local stores while we’re here?”

>>839861
>>Is there anything you’ll be needing from the local stores while we’re here?”

I've gotta go to the store for a bit. Be back in around an hour tops.

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>>840082
It's me, guys, I promise.

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“Is there anything you’ll be needing from local stores while we’re here?” You put your elbows on the tabletop, leaning forward a little.

Solfrid hums to herself thoughtfully. “Well, nothing much.” She shrugs. “Oh, wait. Yeah, I’ll be needing some 41mm ball bearings, ideally tungsten.” She smiles at you.

“41mm ball bearings?” You squint at her. “And what could you possibly need those for?”

She frowns at you. “Well, I brought by bow from archery club along in case it might be useful, but it’s just dead weight without any projectiles.” She looks at you like she’s just explained the most obvious thing in the world.

“Uh… Okay,” you say. “And you don’t need anything else?”

“Now that you mention it,” she adds. “I could probably use some decent boots,” she points to her Chuck Taylors. “These are starting to fall apart.”

“Where did you even get those?” Your eyes widen. “I haven’t seen a pair of chucks in probably fifteen years.”

She crosses her arms proudly. “I’ve had ‘em ever since the Culture Shift on our planet. It was about fifteen years after your people made contact with ours. Anyway, a whole bunch of stuff came over from Earth: shoes, jeans, TV shows, phrases…” She makes a finger gun at you and squints. “Go ahead, make my day,” she hisses. Oh god, her people follow pop culture from three centuries ago. If you had to guess, you’d say that humanity shipped everything outmoded and outdated to the Psirineans when contact was made.

“Okay…” You rub the bridge of your nose. “So you need some actual boots that won’t fall apart from general use… And ball bearings.”

“41mm ball bearings,” she reiterates.

“Right,” you sigh.

>”Wait. You can’t fire ball bearings from a bow, they’re too heavy. It’ll fly like ten feet…”
>”So what do you think of the ship so far?”
>”I’m headed up to my quarters for some rest.” (ends conversation)
>Write-in.

>>840488
>>”Wait. You can’t fire ball bearings from a bow, they’re too heavy. It’ll fly like ten feet…”

>>840488
>”I’m headed up to my quarters for some rest.” (ends conversation)
Quick, bail before it gets any weirder. She can demonstate her bow/sling thing once we get some ammo.
This is like the Japs getting into American 50s culture in the 90s or whatever. We should get her some snake skin boots.

>>840488
>>”Wait. You can’t fire ball bearings from a bow, they’re too heavy. It’ll fly like ten feet…”
Magnetic bow?

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“You…” You find yourself at a bit of a loss for words. “You can’t fire a ball bearing from a bow…” You raise your eyebrows. “It’d fly like ten feet. They’re too heavy.”

Solfrid looks at you as though you’ve just spoken gibberish. “Sin,” she begins. “What are you talking about? Bows fire metal projectiles.”

“But… But that’s just not true,” you begin. However, it strikes you that the word ‘bow’ might just be a common word for anything that throws a projectile. “Hold on,” you stop her before she can reply. Fetching a napkin, you draw a crude illustration of a longbow on it. Then you hand the drawing to her. “Is this what your bow looks like?”

She squints at the drawing, turning the napkin every which way. “No,” she finally says. “Mine is like… a long tube.” She mimes holding a rifle. “There was an ancient one sitting on the table at the cultural festival.”

“So it’s a rifle?”

She crosses her arms. “No,” she frowns. “It doesn’t use gunpowder. The projectile is thrown forward by the pull of electrically charged ley-stones.” She says smugly.

Electrically powered… Wait, there’s no way her bow is what you think it is. “You mean a railgun?”

She shrugs at you. “I don’t know. Is that what you humans call it?”

There’s no way it’s a railgun. They’ve only just recently been prototyping man-portable ones. There is absolutely no way this girl has one.

“Wait a sec,” she interrupts your thoughts, getting up and jogging to her stateroom. A mere two minutes later, she returns with a long, metal case, which she sets gently on the table in front of you.

She gestures for you to open it, and you do. Gently, you release the clasps and lift the lid. And before you is a sight you’d never expected to see with your own eyes. A goddamn man-portable railgun. It is long and elegant, with a thumb-hole stock. However, you notice that it is made for a much smaller individual. Your thumb wouldn’t even fit into the thumb-hole. It has the elegant written language of the Psirineans stamped on many parts of it, and its chrome finish practically glows in the light of the wardroom.

>”This is cool as hell.”
>”How did you even get this? Human militaries are still prototyping these things.”
>”You said you were the top-ranked student in your archery program, does that make you like a sniper?”
>”This is a little too much for me right now.” (ends conversation)
>”What are its specs?”
>Write-in.

>>840709
>”This is cool as hell.”
>”You said you were the top-ranked student in your archery program, does that make you like a sniper?”
>If Tom sees this he WILL get VERY excited about it. Just preparing you in advance.

>>840709
>”How did you even get this? Human militaries are still prototyping these things.”

>>840709
>>”This is a little too much for me right now.” (ends conversation)
moving right on

>>840709
>”You said you were the top-ranked student in your archery program, does that make you like a sniper?”
>"What's the power source?"
Better not run on magic crystals.

>>840709
>>”How did you even get this? Human militaries are still prototyping these things.”
>>”You said you were the top-ranked student in your archery program, does that make you like a sniper?”
Space elves teach their teenagers to become snipers with teenager-sized railguns. If they ever went to war, we'd be fucked

Better make sure nobody on this ship steals her rifle and tries to sell it to the military

Well guys:

My Internet has taken a crap. I'm trying to get it back to operational condition, but I don't know if I'll be able to tonight.

If I don't, I'm sorry. If I do, the next story post will probably be the last one tonight.

Either way, we'll resume tomorrow afternoon.

>>840766
Her railgun isn't teenager-sized. She just has little hands compared to Allen.

Psirineans actually mature rather quickly. They're basically physical adults throughout high school.

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Welp. My Internet appears to be fried, fractured, and fucked.

Again, I am so sorry to call the session for the night, but hopefully the issues will be resolved by tomorrow morning. I would bops from my phone, but it'd look like complete ass and there would be too many typos for me to deem it acceptable.

>>840918
Okay best of luck man. I can't wait

Just got here
Oh shit
Looks like taking her in got us in a whole lotta things to keep to ourselves, as if we didn't have enough.
I have a feeling that we would need to minimize contact as much as possible.

your quest is gay hahahaha

>>841737
Please go away, it's a bretty gud quest

>>841737
Go back to b ya fuckin turd

“How did you even get this? Human militaries are still prototyping things like portable railguns.” You look closer at the device before glancing back up at Solfrid.

“Well,” she frowns. “These are kind of like the training models of what the regular armed forces use for long-range fighting.” She points to a small hatch on the butt stock. “This is where the battery goes. But with the capacitors that the archery models have, they’re nothing compared to the military ones.”

“Interesting,” you reply. “What kind of damage can it do?”

“That depends…” She trails off. “The speed of the projectile can be adjusted. Right now though, the maximum speed allowed by the capacitors is about a sixth the speed of a regular bullet.” She points to the barrel of the weapon. “The capacitor banks are located here. These bows are designed to be super-modular, so I suppose we could make it more dangerous if we had the right components… And a skilled engineer of course.”

“So it’s basically only for shooting at targets,” you nod.

“Well, not quite,” she corrects you. “It could definitely injure or stun someone, but killing them would be unlikely unless the projectile hit them just right.” She sits down next to you and takes the railgun out of its case, holding it gingerly. “These were designed to be handled by academy students, so of course they wouldn’t be nearly as powerful as a military-issue one.”

“Okay,” you reply. “You said that you were the top of your archery program, does that make you like a sniper?”

She points the railgun at nowhere in particular, aiming down the sights. You notice that she has excellent trigger discipline. “Kind of,” she replies. Then she seems to adjust the sights a little bit. “I mean, a recruiter from the armed forces talked to me after I graduated, but I wasn’t interested in joining.” She shrugs, then sits the weapon back in its case. “But our archery practice and competitions took place at ranges of less than 100 meters, generally.”

>”You may want to keep this a secret from anyone who isn’t part of the crew. I’m sure a lot of unscrupulous types would do some pretty nasty stuff to get their hands on this technology.”
>”What kind of battery does it use?”
>”So what sort of specs do the military ones have?”
>”We can talk more about this later. I need sleep.” (ends conversation)
>Write-in.

>>842470
>”What kind of battery does it use?”
Dat energy density.
>”So what sort of specs do the military ones have?”

>>842470
>”You may want to keep this a secret from anyone who isn’t part of the crew. I’m sure a lot of unscrupulous types would do some pretty nasty stuff to get their hands on this technology.”

>>842470

>”What kind of battery does it use?”
Then:
>”You may want to keep this a secret from anyone who isn’t part of the crew. I’m sure a lot of unscrupulous types would do some pretty nasty stuff to get their hands on this technology.”

So for now, it's only a BB gun.

Time to get Cynthia on that shit!

File: Battery.png (280 KB, 981x551)

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“What kind of battery does it use?” You point to the battery compartment, and Solfrid quickly opens the compartment and removes a small cylinder.

It is yellow with a silver cap, and there are prongs on one end of it. She holds it in front of you. “This,” she begins in a slightly hushed tone. “Is a mark four Solaris Engine.” She hands it gently to you.

The small device is cold to the touch, and while it looks insignificant, you know all too well that it is most likely the exact opposite of insignificant. “So what makes it work?” You hold it a little bit closer to your face, examining the Psirinean writing on the side, printed in bright red.

“From what I know,” she starts. “They’re storage units that can hold a massive amount of energy. I’m not entirely sure what they’re made of, but I remember our instructor explaining that the military bows only get about a dozen shots from a single Solaris Engine. We could get about three hundred shots from each one out of our trainer models.” She shrugs. “That one’s virtually new though, so I could plink all day with it.”

“And how would you go about getting new ones?” You hand the Solaris Engine back to her.

“Well,” she admits. “They’re really only available to licensed dealers, who only sell them to the military and archery clubs.” She sighs. “That’s probably the last one I’ll ever be getting.”

“I see,” you reply. Then you scowl at the realization of how advanced this tech is. “Listen,” you catch her attention. “You’re going to need to keep all of this secret from anyone who isn’t part of the crew.”

“Why’s that?” She raises an eyebrow at you.

“Because the war industry is unscrupulous,” you reply bluntly. “And they’d do just about anything to get their hands on something this advanced.”

Solfrid’s expression hardens. “I understand,” she replies. The two of you don’t talk about anything as she puts the bow back in its case. Then, she stands up, smiling at you.

“Well, captain,” she begins. “Thank you so much for the food, and for bringing me aboard.”

“No problem,” you reply.

“If you’ll excuse me,” she continues. “I’m pretty tired… And I’ve still got most of my luggage to unpack,” she chuckles, pointing toward her stateroom.

“Right,” you wave her away. She turns on her heels and returns to her stateroom. You’re certain you hear a song by The Clash blaring from behind her door down the hall after a few minutes.

>Head upstairs and get some rest.
>Talk with a crew member. (specify)
>Do something else. (specify)

>>842593
>Talk with a crew member
Cyntia, we need to reverse engineer a super-advanced alien battery and get rich.

>>842593
>>Talk with a crew member. (specify)
Cynthia see how repairs are going, then Tom to make sure we watches out for our poor gullible computer expert

>>842609
What about assigning Virgo? Tom's got enough on his plate, and Virgo can probably talk about space elf magic versus lizard-bird-man psykery with her, as well as impart valuable life lessons learned over the centuries

>>842593
What this anon >>842614 said I guess, sounds like a laugh
And don't tell Corrigan about the rail gun, her master's might task her to steal it.

So are we thinking of visiting Cynthia or Virgo? I'm not quite sure what the consensus here is.

>>842702
Cynthia then Virgo I think

File: Cynthia.jpg (53 KB, 480x681)

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First, you decide to check on Cynthia and see how the repairs are going. First, you decide to head down to the transmission room, where you expect to find her. However the transmission assembly is back in order, and Cynthia is nowhere to be found.

Then it hits you that she’d probably be working on the Q-band. So after looking at the ship’s used-manual, you head forward to where the Q-band is located.

As you arrive there, you find Cynthia standing next to a hatch in the wall, with a panel sitting next to her.

“Hey Cynthia,” you greet her. She immediately turns around, smiling.

“Allen,” she nods. “Just got done putting the Q-band back together. We should be ready to fly now.” She then reaches down and picks up the panel, putting it back into place over the hatch. “I went ahead and tested it. We’re getting a reception.”

“Good,” you reply. “Anything else that we might need to be fixing soon?”

“Nothing in particular,” she says. “Some of the transmission parts looked a little worn, but it’s nothing serious.”

“Alright then,” you nod.

“Well, I’m going to hit the hay,” she adds.

“Alright then.” With that, the two of you go your separate ways. And on your way back toward the wardroom, you decide to pay Virgo a visit.

You stop outside his door and knock. “Yes?” A muffled voice comes from behind the door.

“It’s me,” you say.

“Right, sir.” The voice sounds closer. Then, the door opens, with Virgo standing on the other side. “Good evening, captain.”

You step into his stateroom. The decoration is very traditional, with an intricate rug on the floor and incense burning in a metal tray on his desk. You half expect him to start chanting some Zen mantra or something.

“So we’ve got a new member of the crew,” you begin.

Virgo raises an eyebrow. “Really? Anyone interesting?”

“Yeah,” you reply. “A Psirinean computer programmer. I think she might be something of a sharpshooter as well.”

File: Virgo scars.jpg (556 KB, 923x932)

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Virgo crosses his arms, his grin widening. “Now that’s interesting. I spent just a small amount of time on their home world when I was younger. Beautiful place, though some of their people tend to be a bit haughty.”

“I know what you mean,” you chuckle. “Solfrid isn’t like that though. If anything… She’s a bit naïve.” You frown. “She seems kind of sheltered, you know?”

Virgo nods knowingly. “I see,” he says. “And I’m guessing you want someone with a wealth of experience to kind of watch over her. Maybe impart some knowledge, right?”

You smile at the thulian. “You can read me like a book, you know that?”

“Comes with being alive for three centuries,” he nods sagely. “I can read just about everyone like a book.”

>”Is there anything you’ll be needing before we leave Ganymede? I don’t plan on staying for very long at our next two destinations.”
>”Our course has changed a bit. We’re headed to Triton, then New Albany.”
>”I’m headed upstairs to get some rest.” (ends conversation)
>Write-in.

>>842937
>”Is there anything you’ll be needing before we leave Ganymede? I don’t plan on staying for very long at our next two destinations.”
>>”Our course has changed a bit. We’re headed to Triton, then New Albany.”
We do need to talk about both.

>>842937
>”Is there anything you’ll be needing before we leave Ganymede? I don’t plan on staying for very long at our next two destinations.”
>”Our course has changed a bit. We’re headed to Triton, then New Albany.”

>>842937
> both of the things

>>842937
>>”Our course has changed a bit. We’re headed to Triton, then New Albany.”

File: Imagine this but with a p(...).jpg (314 KB, 700x467)

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“So our course has changed a bit,” you begin. “We’re making a stop at Triton before we head to New Albany.”

Virgo grimaces a little bit, then nods. “Understood. Though, I’ve heard some nasty rumors coming out of both places.”

“As have I,” you reply grimly. “That’s why I’m not planning on staying at either place for very long. Ideally just long enough to drop our cargo off and pick up more.”

“Makes sense.”

“But that brings me to another point of business,” you add. “Are you going to be needing anything from around here before we shove off?”

He looks to be lost in thought for a moment, then he speaks up. “I think I’ll be fine,” he says. “I’ve got pretty much everything I need at the moment.”

“Alright,” you turn on your heels getting ready to leave the room.

“Also, captain,” Virgo gets your attention. “I ran into who I assume is our passenger. Tall guy with dark eyes?”

“That’d be him,” you reply with a sigh.

“Be careful around him, sir. I can’t get a good read on him, but I do know he’s probably up to something shady.”

“Glad I’m not the only one with reservations about him,” you say.

“Well, that’s all I have to say, sir.” Virgo yawns. “Anyway, I’m thinking I may as well get some sleep. I’ve been up for about 24 hours now.”

“Alright,” you reply, leaving the stateroom. Virgo closes the door behind you. Looking up at the wall clock above the doorway to the wardroom, you see that it is beginning to get late, so you feel like you may as well see about getting some shut-eye.

You head up to your quarters to find Tripe sleeping right outside of your door. As you open the door and walk in, Tripe follows you inside, curling up on the floor next to the couch.

You remove your boots and jacket, curling up on the couch and covering your eyes. Within about five minutes, you begin to drift into a heavy sleep.

>You sleep soundly, not having any dreams. (skips to the next day)
>You dream.

>>843132
>You dream.
More PTSD!

>>843132
>>You dream.

>>843132
>>You dream.
You mind putting the dream portions in italics? Make it easier to tell what the dream parts are?

>>843163
I mean, I suppose I can. It doesn't really seem all that necessary to me, since I try to make it obvious when the dream ends by writing "you awaken" once it ends. Plus I like to save italics for things like written documents and other small stuff. Most of the dream sequences take multiple posts.

File: Swanson.jpg (49 KB, 510x344)

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You awaken in a hospital bed, staring up at the ceiling of the Abraxis’ medbay. There is a heaviness about you. In your newly-reconstructed hand, you feel cool metal. Looking over, you see Ensign Swanson, her prosthetic hand gripping yours. She’s asleep in a chair next to your bed.

You glance around the room, seeing dozens of other injured men and women in the other beds. As you struggle to sit up, Swanson awakens. “Hey,” she smiles slightly.

“How long was I out?”

“Three days,” she replies tiredly. “Warwick went to get some shut-eye, so I figured I may as well stand by and watch over you.”

“What about damage control stuff?” You look around, seeing that everyone who is awake doesn’t appear to be gripped with the same existential dread as they were throughout the last month or so.

“The captain was removed by Fleet Admiral Rowe,” she says. “We’ve been ordered back to Venus for repair and refurbishment. Every non-essential person is officially on-leave for the next three months.” She smiles. “That includes all remaining damage control personnel.”

“That’s good,” you sigh. “What are they doing with the captain?”

Swanson raises an eyebrow at you. “What do you think? He’s been sent back to Earth to receive court-martial.”

“That’s even better,” you grin. “He had it coming for a long time.” You pull your hand away from Swanson’s prosthetic, rubbing your eyes. “I’m just glad to be heading someplace where we don’t have to worry about getting blown up for a while.”

“Yeah,” Swanson affirms. “It’ll be really nice. Three full months of leave. What are you planning on doing with it?”

>Write-in.

>>843343
Rehab, most likely. After that? Drinking and carousing like a normal soldier on leave.

>>843343
I'm gonna go somewhere with snow and make the biggest, best snowman.

Quick update guys:

Depending on my schedule tonight, the remainder of the updates might be coming from my laptop, in which case italics won't be available. Sorry mauve anon.

>>843343
Rehab, relaxation, and visiting my family. Allen's got family right?

>>843581
At the moment, his only living family is his father.

Will be back in a place where I can write within about 30 minutes. Keep the write-ins coming till then. I'll try to combine all of them I a way that makes sense.

"I'm not entirely sure," you reply with a sigh. "I mean, part of me wants to hang around Venus and get drunk and rowdy, like a regular soldier. But at the same time, I should probably head back to Earth and see my dad." You trail off. Honestly, you're not sure if he'd want to see you. "But I guess what I'd really like is to go somewhere with snow..." You smile distantly. "It's been so long since I've seen snow..."

"Snow probably would be nice," Swanson nods.

"What about you?" You raise an eyebrow at her.

Swanson looks away sadly. "I honestly don't know," she finally says. "The people I normally hang out with when I'm on leave... The people I graduated OCS with, they're all..." Tears form at the corners of her eyes and she sighs. "They're gone."

"Oh," you frown guiltily. "I'm sorry."

She looks back at you. "No, don't be." There's a very uncomfortable silence between the two of you. "I..." She sighs. "Look, regardless of where you go on leave... Could I go with you?" She rubs the bridge of her nose tiredly. "It doesn't matter where, I just need to get away from this ship for a while."

>"Sure."
>"I don't think you'd want to go with me."
>"Sorry. I think I need you to do this on my own."

>>843965
>>"Sure."

>>843965
>>"Sure."

>>843965
Sorry. I think I need I to do this on my own.*

Dang typos.

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"Sure," you reply with a smile. "It'll be nice to have someone with me."

"Thanks," Swanson takes your hand in her prosthetic again. "It means a lot, really."

The two of you are quiet for a while longer, seemingly enjoying the peace of being away from battle. "So," you finally speak up. "Where are we now?"

Swanson raises an eyebrow at you. "We're actually in the middle of an FTL jump back to Venus. Should be quiet like this for the next week or so." She yawns.

Just as you're about to say something, you hear someone speak up next to you. "Good to see you awake, Lieutenant." The two of you look to the foot of your bed, where a middle-aged doctor in a white labcoat stands. "I'm Doctor Armitage." He holds out a hand for you to shake, you put out your free hand and shake his.

"Morning, doc." You nod. "How roughed up am I?"

The doctor chuckles tiredly. "Well," he begins. "You were knocked out by a fuel-air explosion. The worst damage was to the soft tissue of your lungs, but that was mostly bruising. It's going to hurt when you breathe for about a week after the pain meds wear off." He points to the hand that Swanson is still holding. "I'm honestly surprised that the hack-job on your arm stayed together during the blast."

"Well," you smile. "The doctor who patched my arm up did a pretty good job. You should send him my regards."

Doctor Armitage frowns sadly. "That was Doctor Li. I'm... I'm afraid he's not with us anymore."

"I'm sorry," you reply.

"Don't be, kid." Armitage points to you. "Li knew the risks. And he sort of survives through you. Through that rebuilt arm." He chuckles. "So don't go getting it ripped off anytime soon, sailor."

"Will do," you reply. "Anything else I should know?"

"Well," he continues. "There's no damage requiring rehab, so you should be fine to go out and party once we get to Venus." With that, he turns around and begins walking away. "Anyhow, I've got to see my other patients. Have a good one."

"You too," you smile. You then glance over at Swanson. "Well, we can leave as soon as the ship touches down then."

"Alright," she smiles. "That's good. I don't know how much more of the Abraxis I can handle right now." She squeezes your hand just enough to notice.

You lay back down in the bed, sighing. "Is it alright if I sleep just a little more?" You raise an eyebrow at her.

"After what we've all been though," she says. "I don't blame you."

You let your eyes close, feeling safe for the first time in a long time.

----

You awaken to the sound of the intercom ringing next to your head, rolling over, you answer it.

"Yeah?"

"Captain," Tom's voice crackles over the speaker. "Breakfast is ready."

>"Let me get dressed first."
>"I'm not hungry."
>"What time is it?"
>Write-in.

>>844321
>>"Let me get dressed first."
>"What time is it?"

>>844321
>>"What time is it?"
>>"Let me get dressed first."

>>844347
>>"What time is it?"
>>Write-in: Go out in boxers, fuck'em.

"Alright, let me get dressed first," you reply. "And what time is it?"

"Just after 10:00, sir." You hear some talking in the background. "Most everyone woke up late, so I waited for as many people to be awake as possible before I started breakfast."

About nine hours of sleep. Assuming you didn't get up during the night and forget. You grumble a reply into the microphone, then roll out fo your bunk, throwing a shirt and pants on.

Your crew are all mostly finished with their meal by the time you arrive in the wardroom, but they're talking to each other, which is nice. You see that most of the talking is between Corrigan, Cynthia, and Solfrid. It's good that she's making friends. Virgo sits over in the corner reading a vintage hot rod magazine, and Tom sits at the table looking over the ship's manual and occasionally pointing parts out to Solfrid.

"Your plate's on the counter, sir." He points to the serving window counter, where you find a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon.

Grabbing your plate, you sit down between Tom and Solfrid, across from Cynthia and Corrigan. "So how was everyone's evening?" You begin eating after speaking.

"Didn't sleep," Tom replies.

"That's not good for you," Cynthia replies. "I've been sleeping great ever since I started drinking Tappler tea. I can give you some if you like."

"I'm good," Tom replies bluntly. "I doubt it works well when mixed with gin anyway." He chuckles.

"Captain," Solfrid speaks up. "I was not aware that these vessels were this new," she points to a part of the ship's manual that shows a date from sixty-eight years ago.

"New?" You balk. "That's ancient for a starship."

She seems confused by this. "How so? My people have starships from before the breach of the Grand Wall."

"When was that?" Virgo speaks up next. "I've heard the term before, but I've never gotten a proper date."

"Well..." She frowns thoughtfully. "It was at least six cycles ago... So, maybe then thousand years ago?"

"Ten thousand years?" Virgo's eyes go wide. "You've got working starships from ten thousand years ago?"

"Indeed," she replies proudly. "The World Ships."

"That's amazing..." Virgo sighs. "The oldest Thulian starship is the 200 year-old Vensor-Monad, and it's more of a ceremonial ship at this point."

>"Neat." (continues scene)
>"What's a World Ship?"
>"So what makes Psirinean ships last so long?"
>Write-in.

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>>844625
>>"So what makes Psirinean ships last so long?"
Psirineans are actually the Eldar aren't they

>>844625
>"What's a World Ship?"
>"So what makes Psirinean ships last so long?"

"So what makes Psirinean ships last so long?" You lean forward.

Solfrid seems perplexed by your question. "Well I suppose it's that we just keep repairing and refurbishing our old ships," she says. "We don't scrap anything unless it's completely destroyed."

"That makes sense," Virgo adds in. "Our culture was like that for a long time. The Magus' are still like that." He crosses his arms, looking over to you. "Humans are different though. Mainly on account of their arms races and whatnot."

"That's true," you shrug. "The average service-life for a starship is maybe forty years."

"Only forty years?" Solfrid raises her eyebrows at you. "That's barely any time at all."

"Well," Tom interjects. "We humans also run our ships into the ground during their service lives." He frowns. "Everything gets used to its maximum capacity, and once it starts getting too expensive to repair, it gets stowed away for later."

"Inactive Reserve," Virgo muses. "So that's why the boneyards are so big."

"Yeah," you add. "Most of the reserve fleets are set up so that they can be reactivated in an emergency."

"It seems as though your peoples' culture is very..." Solfrid frowns, as though afraid to offend you. "Warlike. At times anyway."

>Write-in.

>>844876

>"Out of the last....3800? years or so, we've had about 45 days of peace, where no one is fighting anyone anywhere. We are what we are. Don't let that disturb you, though. I've seen enough of war."

>>844876
Pretty much ever facet of our culture barring a few areas is a competition. Fighting, production, scientific advancement, agriculture, space travel. If we're not competing against each other, we're competing against a hostile environment or the unknown. We sprung up in a world were all we had was ludicrous endurance and a slightly larger than average brain. We were feeble, slow, not that large, and had dul senses compared to everything we hunted or that wanted to eat us. We needed to every edge to survive and thrive, and a large part of that mentality has stuck with us as we have grown and advanced, even when it was at times needless.

>>844876
>Sometimes people want change, sometimes they're defending what they believe in, and sometimes they're just assholes. Can't really stop people from getting violent.
>Don't be disturbed though, I don't think none of us here want to go back to the War again.

"Most of humanity's history has been competition," you reply simply. "Whether it be military, scientific, monetary, architectural..." You trail off. "There have probably been one hundred days of total peace for humanity in the past 3000 years."

"That's a pretty liberal estimate," Tom adds in. "Look, Solfrid. There are good humans and bad humans. And as long as there are bad humans, good humans will be trying to stop them, and vice-versa." He sighs. "And sometimes it's the bad humans in power on both sides, and when that happens, you get wars with no reason for existing."

"You and the captain know a lot about war," Solfrid says in an interested tone.

"We know too much," Tom replies bluntly. "It's not a subject that people should become well-versed in, but after the end of the War, a whole lot of people like us were left with nothing to do."

"Look at it like this," you add. "People fight over just about everything imaginable. And we humans, unfortunately, have become exceedingly good at it."

"That we have," Tom confirms sadly. "But hey, I think that's enough war-talk, right?"

"Right," the rest of the table replies.

"So anyway," Cynthia speaks up. "I'm thinking we should see about getting some parts from the boneyard on New Albany, assuming it's not been picked clean already." You and Tom glare at her. "What? It's a hundred miles from anything important. There's no way the fighting is happening there."

"Captain," Tom glances at you. "While I have reservations about going to that boneyard, it would be nice to pick up a defense turret for the aft. The one this ship came with must've been removed at some point."

"I see," you reply. "And why would we need a turret?"

Corrigan is the next to speak up. "Well," she begins. "Many reasons. But pirates, mostly. We will likely encounter many pirates if we travel the Frontiers much."

>"Absolutely not. New Albany is too dicey."
>"We'll see when we get there."
>"Sure."

>>845103
>>"We'll see when we get there."
And if we have the cash for it

>>845103
>>"We'll see when we get there."

>>845103
>>We'll see.

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I'm gonna call it for tonight. I'll be running tomorrow afternoon and Sunday as well.

Mood Music:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BN1WwnEDWAM

How old do you think Solfrid is?

>>845205
couple of centuries easy

>>845103
>"We'll see when we get there."
Smash and grab, heck yeah.

>>845205
12

>>845205
See you OP, hell of a thread.

Also, I think Sofrid's 20 years old.

>>845218
So Solfrid is the loli option in the harem?
I only hope Allen doesn't have any sisters.

Dammit missed some updates
>>845205
At least over 100.

>>845215
>>845801
You guys are close-ish.

Anyway, next session will begin around 6:00 PM EST.

"We'll see when we get there," you reply simply. "It all depends on how messy the situation on New Albany is."

"Right," Cynthia says.

"Also, Captain," Virgo speaks up. "I was watching the news earlier, and it looks like the CFP is suffering problems with resource mismanagement. Apparently they've started looking to private sources for receiving things like food and water because their quartermaster department is so bad."

"Really?" You raise an eyebrow at Virgo.

"Indeed. You might want to watch out for contracts headed for Ceres. Might be some good money involved."

"Good to know," you reply.

Within the next five or so minutes, everyone finishes their breakfast and heads off to do whatever it is that they do. You relax in the wardroom for a few more minutes, watching television.

The Imperial news agencies keep talking about how the latest Union trade sanctions will end up causing a recession (they won't), about how the Imperial frontier worlds are bountiful gardens that inner-Imperial citizens should migrate to (they aren't), and about how the Federation's government will collapse due to its decadence any day now (if it hasn't collapsed in the 250 years it's existed, you doubt it will any time soon).

After having your fill of the news, you head upstairs and put your boots on. You figure that you may as well be ready to head out if you need to. Upon returning to the Wardroom, you find that Solfrid is sitting at the table. She smiles as you enter the room.

"Do you need something?" You raise an eyebrow at her.

"Well captain," she says confusedly. "You said that we'd go shopping today."

Oh.

>"Alright, let's go."
>"Can't you do this on your own?"
>"Change of plans. We aren't going today."
>Write-in.

>>847847
>>"Alright, let's go."

>>847847
>"Alright, let's go."

>>847847
>"Alright, let's go."

>>847847
>"Alright, let's go."
And you can send a message to your people that you are safe/running away.
Wear a mask?

File: Looks like this.jpg (18 KB, 340x340)

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"Alright," you reply. "Let's get ready and head out."

"Sounds good," she smiles.

However, you immediately think of something. "Hold on," you say, turning around and heading up to your quarters. You rifle through your dresser drawers looking for a specific article of clothing.

A couple of minutes later, you return to the wardroom with an old Federal Navy Football hoodie that you've had since your time in the academy. You toss the hoodie to Solfrid and she raises her eyebrows, looking at the jacket, then back to you. "Why? It's not cold out..."

You mime pulling the hood up over your head. "Wulfrig and his people might still be looking for you," you say. "And a party mask won't cover those ears."

"Oh," she replies with a nod. It takes her no time at all to pull the hoodie on and get it adjusted right. She looks down at the faded Academy logo, examining it as she puts the hood up. "I like it. Vintage."

"Sure." You gesture for her to follow you, and the two of you leave the wardroom. As the two of you walk through the cargo hold, she asks about the various cargoes, which you describe to the best of your ability.

As the two of you walk out into the dockyard, Solfrid gets your attention. "The comm terminals are over here," she points to a bank of what look like public computers. "I'm going to get a message to my family. It'll only take a few minutes." You nod, and she walks over to the terminals, typing away casually at one of the keyboards. After about three minutes, she turns the terminal off and walks back over to you. "Alright," she sighs. "That's done."

"Then let's get started," you reply. The two of you head up to the street, where you hail a cab. You figure it'd be best to stop by a clothing store to get her some boots first. It's surprising just how much walking a spacer does. Then, as the cab takes off, a thought hits you. "Wait, you've got money, right?"

"I do," she says. "I saved some up when I left on the cultural mission."

"Alright," you sigh. "Just checking."

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It takes the cab maybe ten minutes to arrive at the nearest clothing store. You both step out, noticing the surprisingly flashy advertising on the storefront. The two of you enter and begin looking for decent boots.

Of course, the first ones that catch her eye are old-style combat boots, which wouldn't be a problem if they were actual military ones instead of knock-off garbage. You steer her toward more durable-looking ones similar to the boots you wore when you were on leave in the Navy.

She ends up getting the ones you suggested, and she gets a pair of sunglasses as the two of you are checking out. You then step out onto the sidewalk, and as you both go to get into the cab, you hear a voice behind you.

"Allen Starwind." You turn around to see Sam Higgins, looking as casual as ever. "You know, you're kind of a hard guy to find."

>"And just why are you looking for me?"
>"What's a man like yourself doing on Ganymede?"
>"I'm afraid I don't have time to chat right now."
>Write-in.

>>848230
>"And just why are you looking for me?"
I thought you were always watching?

>>848230
>"And just why are you looking for me?"
>"What's a man like yourself doing on Ganymede?"
[PARANOIA INTENSIFIES]

>>848230
>"And just why are you looking for me?"

>>848230
>>"What's a man like yourself doing on Ganymede?"

>>848230
>>"And just why are you looking for me?"
>"What's a man like yourself doing on Ganymede?"

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"And just why are you looking for me in the first place?" You cross your arms. Solfrid, seeing the tense nature of the situation, gets in the cab.

Sam holds a hand up wearily. "Hey, hey. Don't shoot the messenger. Look, I was already here on business, so I thought I'd find you and relay a little hunch I've got."

"A hunch?" You raise an eyebrow. "So this is off the books then."

Sam chuckles. "Everything is off the books for me, my friend." He then changes entirely. A look of seriousness you've never seen from him covers his face. "I know you're headed to New Albany," he begins grimly. "Let me just say this. Whatever's going on there, it's bad." He sighs. "Hell, they haven't even thrown any details my way, and I'm in the know about pretty much everything."

"So what do you think is going on there?" You lean against the cab.

"I don't have the slightest idea," he relents. "But whatever it is, it's bad enough for the Federation to send the a battlecruiser carrying Admiral Leander out there."

"And they're keeping it as quiet as possible," you add.

"Yeah," Sam grumbles. Your eyes meet for a brief moment, but you see something there that you'd never expect to see. You see fear. "Look, all I'm saying is that I think you should minimize the time you spend on New Albany." He smiles, but you can tell it's a facade. "Anyway, I've got to get back to work. Have a good shopping trip, Captain."

With that, he turns and begins walking away, looking over his shoulder a couple of times. You get into the cab, feeling a cold chill run up your spine.

"Who was that?" Solfrid looks at you with apprehension.

>Write-in.

>>848479
Someone I helped out a while ago giving me some advice.

>>848479
An old acquaintance. Gave some advice.

>>848479
A person that is nore than how he looks like.

>>848548
>nore
This was supposed to be 'more'.

"Just an old friend," you reply as the cab speeds off. "Somebody who I helped out a while back. He was giving me some advice."

"Oh, okay." Solfrid nods at you. The cab speeds along toward its next destination. A hardware store.

Upon arriving, you begin browsing around for the specific size of ball bearings you'll be needing for Solfrid's bow. You have a hard time finding them, but eventually, you discover a package of 40 sitting at the back of a bin. You immediately notice something interesting about them, a small label on the back, written in the Psirinean language.

"Hey Solfrid, what's this?" You point to the label.

She immediately squints at it, mouthing the words she reads. "Well..." She begins. "It looks like these are actual projectiles for a bow... I'm not sure how this store got them, but it sure is convenient." She shrugs.

The two of you make your way to the front counter, where an elderly man rings up Solfrid's purchase. After that, the two of you leave the store and get back into the cab.

"Are there any other places you need to go?" You ask Solfrid as the cab speeds away from the store.

"None that I can think of," she replies.

The cab brings you both back to the dockyards without incident, and you both return to the Bad Habit. When you get up to the wardroom, you and Solfrid part ways, as she goes back to her quarters with her stuff.

"Captain," Tom greets you. "I just finished preparations for takeoff. We don't need to be out of here for another four hours, but I can have us off-world in ten minutes if you like."

"Duly noted," you reply. Tom salutes you casually and returns to the aft-end of the ship.

>Speak with a crew member. (who?)
>Explore a part of the ship. (specific area will be voted on when explore is locked-in)
>Get Corrigan and head up to the bridge. (prep for takeoff)
>Do something else. (specify)

>>848775
*"Also, sir. Our other passenger arrived while you were gone, I went ahead and got him squared away," Tom adds before exiting the room. *

I don't know how that got left out.

>>848775
>>talk to our other passenger

>>848775
>Get Corrigan and head up to the bridge. (prep for takeoff)

>>848775
>>Get Corrigan and head up to the bridge. (prep for takeoff)

>>848829
We can do this mid space flight

File: Your ship's bridge looks (...).jpg (608 KB, 1280x972)

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First, you head to Corrigan's stateroom, gathering her in preparation for takeoff. The two of you head up to the bridge, you take your seats as Tom greets you.

"Alright," you begin. "Let's get ready for takeoff."

"Sounds good, sir." He replies. "Also, I have an idea."

"Let's hear it," you say.

"So with our current sublight engines, it'd take about two weeks for us to get from here to Neptune, where Triton is located. However, with our FTL drives, we could get to within about 2 AU of the planet safely. That'd cut our journey down to two days." He shrugs. "Worth a thought."

"I see," you reply. "I'll consider it. Let's get prepped for takeoff first."

"Alright, going through systems check." He begins looking over all the major systems as you pull up the intercom.

"Attention all passengers and crew, we're getting ready for takeoff." You then wait about three minutes before switching to the maintenance room's intercom. "Cynthia, we ready?"

"Yeah, all systems are a go from my station." She sounds much more confident than the last two times.

"Alright, thanks." You cut the transmission, drawing the lapbelt across you.

"Awaiting your command, sir," Tom looks back at you.

>"Let's get out of here."
>"Hold up, I need to do something first." (wait/specify)

>>849187
>"Let's get out of here."

>>849187
>>"Let's get out of here."
Punch it

>>849187
>>"Let's get out of here."

"Let's go," you command. With that, you feel the shudder of the ship's weight being lifted off the landing gear. There is a small groan is the gear and cargo door retract, sealing the ship.

"We're all-green," Tom says, easing the Bad Habit out of the docks and into the air above Ganymede's sparkling seas.

The ship lurches as Tom pivots away from Soyuz, angling the nose up. You feel the inertial dampeners engage as the ship roars into low-orbit around Ganymede. You look to the side, seeing the moon now far below you, and getting further every second.

"Angling toward escape," Tom begins. The nose pitches up. "We'll be in position for a sublight burn here in about a minute.

The ship glides up into higher orbit, Tom speaking with Ganymede's ATC all the while. Eventually, the ship levels out. You look back to see Ganymede looking incredibly small in the distance.

"Beginning sublight burn," Tom says automatically. The dampeners kick on again as the ship blasts forward at unimaginable speeds. "And... Okay, we're at a stable trajectory." Tom swivels back to face you. "So captain, shall we test out the FTL drive while we're still in home waters, or would you rather take the long way to Neptune?"

>"Prep for FTL burn." (do it)
>"Actually, I'm a little hesitant to put strain on it right now." (take the slow route)

>>849458
>"Prep for FTL burn." (do it)

>>849458
>>"Prep for FTL burn." (do it)

>>849458
>"Prep for FTL burn." (do it)
There is no catch right? Also, if we still have that big guy on the ship I want to get where he is going asap.

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"Prep for FTL burn," you reply. Tom nods at you, then swivels bact to his console.

"Give me a minute to calculate it, sir."

"Right," you say. Then you bring up the intercom again. "Ladies and gentlemen, we are about to conduct an FTL burn to shave some time off of our route. Hold tight for a few minutes." You then shut the intercom off and prepare yourself. You've never actually seen an FTL burn from the bridge of a ship before.

"Alright," Tom glances back at you. "Ready when you are, sir."

"Do it."

With that, the noise of the engines subsides, and is replaced with a kind of ringing, like the highest note on a xylophone has been struck. The noise then drops in pitch as the light from the stars seems to shift.

Everything turns bright blue for a fraction of a second, then the colors seem to wash out to a pale gray. It isn't like the movies, where the stars turn to lines. Everything outside of the windows looks like a moving, gray smudge. Almost like smoke. There is no noise now, not even the sounds of the ship's machinery.

"Well captain," Tom says with amazement. "We're in FTL now." You all sigh. A problem with the drive during a jump could've been fatal.

Well, it's Triton or bust now.

And that's it for tonight! We'll be resuming tomorrow afternoon. As always, feel free to drop any questions comments, concerns, criticisms, etc. here!

Mood Music:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YncNm0WQY2I

>>848775
>I'm not sure how this store got them, but it sure is convenient.
Nobody having any suspicions about this?
My paranoia senses are tingling.

>>848775
I just realized 41mm is a fricking /cannon/ caliber.

>>851271
it is suspicious, but we're in no place to investigate. Might have been bait by wulfgar.


>>851288
RAILGUN

>>851301
Railguns are better with lightweight hypervelocity projectiles actually.

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>>851288
>>851328
Solfrid's railgun has a training barrel on it. Basically, the reason for the huge caliber is because it is designed primarily to make big dents in the metal targets they use. If you guys intend on upgrading the railgun at some point, you'll need to find a 6mm or 9mm Armed Forces barrel. And ammunition to fit it.

>>851271
That was actually my bad. There was a sub-plot thing that I deleted from the post because I thought it was silly, but I forgot to delete the part about the ammo.

Anyway, next story post will be going up around 6:00 PM EST.

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You went ahead and stayed on the bridge for the thirty minutes that the ship was in FTL. After Tom disengaged the drive, he did another sublight burn and got the Bad Habit on its way to Triton.

You sit in the wardroom with your crew and two passengers, enjoying lunch. It is some kind of thulian dish that Virgo prepared using some spices that he had brought with him.

You sit in between Tom and Corrigan, across from Solfrid and your newest passenger, a priest named Claude Davidson.

“This is a wonderful meal,” Claude says to Virgo. “Really, it’s been a while since I’ve been able to eat this well.” He chuckles to himself.

“Glad you like it,” Virgo replies with a nod. “I tried my best to replicate Talsh, it’s a traditional thulian dish, using the beef we had in the fridge.”

“I see,” Claude says.

“Captain,” Solfrid speaks up. “I did some poking around in the computer mainframes. Your code is a little bit out of date, but I should be able to make pretty much every system on the ship just a little bit more responsive when I recode some things.”

“Good to hear,” you reply. You notice that the tall guy hasn’t spoken since lunch was served. He’s sitting in the corner, occasionally looking your way.

“So captain,” Claude speaks up. “It’s pretty interesting to see an old Oberon still being used in the Sol System. I hear most of them have been shipped out to the frontiers.” He smiles.

“You’re familiar with Oberons?” You raise an eyebrow at him.

“Well, not particularly. It’s been almost ten years since I stepped aboard a starship,” he grins. “But my dad was an armorer aboard one right before they pulled them from frontline service.” He chuckles. “He used to tell me all kinds of stories about those days.”

“If you will excuse me,” the big guy in the corner stands up, bowing slightly. “I am full.” With that, he walks his plate over to the counter and sets it down, then walks over to the stairwell and descends into the area where the passenger staterooms are.

“Huh,” Claude says with a raised eyebrow. “Strange fellow.”

“Indeed,” Corrigan replies.

>Speak to a crewmember. (who? about what?)
>Finish your lunch quietly.
>Turn the TV on.
>Write-in.

>>852553
>Turn the TV on.

>>852553
>>Turn the TV on.

>>852553
>Turn the TV on.

>>852553
>Turn the TV on.

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“Hey,” you call out to everyone at the table. “Could somebody pass me the TV remote?” Virgo hands you the remote and you point it toward the TV, pressing the power button.

The first image is of some kind of facility burning. It is clearly an Imperial news broadcast. You turn on the captions and immediately grimace. The main Imperial Naval yard on Titan has apparently just suffered some kind of explosion.

You realize from the camera angle that the footage is live. There are firefighters rushing every which way while survivors limp out of the burning wreckage. There is what looks to be the wreck of a light cruiser smashed into a landing platform, burning.

You read the captions along the bottom of the screen, likely an argument between two newscasters. They are discussing the causes. One of them appears to be blaming anti-military radicals, while the other is blaming the Federation.

You glance around the table, seeing shock from every person there. Corrigan looks the most disturbed by it.

“Well shit,” Tom exclaims quietly. “They’re already pointing fingers.” He crosses his arms. “Not that surprising really, with tensions the way they are currently.”

Corrigan is the next to speak. “That is the largest naval yard in the Empire…” She sighs. “It only makes sense that they would be looking for someone to blame.”

“Who do you think did it?” Claude looks over at Corrigan.

“It would make the most sense for it to be anti-military radicals,” she begins. “Though it could be something else that the news people aren’t talking about at all… Competition between clans.” She frowns. “It has never happened on this scale before, but the missile clans have gotten violent with each other in the past. With the resources of practically every missile clan there at once… It is very possible that one of them sabotaged something to weaken their competitors.”

“And then they can come in and fill the void of materiel,” Tom frowns. “Classic corporate tactic, only with bombs instead of Standards…”

>”What do you think this will mean for relations with the Federation?”
>"What makes you so certain it wasn't Federal spies?"
>”Why do you think they aren’t considering clan rivalry?”
>Change the channel.
>Write-in.

>>852553
>>Turn the TV on.

>>852757
>>”Why do you think they aren’t considering clan rivalry?”

>>852757
>”Why do you think they aren’t considering clan rivalry?”

>>852757
>”Why do you think they aren’t considering clan rivalry?”

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“Why do you think they aren’t considering clan rivalry?” You look over at Corrigan.

“I’m sure that the military is,” she explains. “It is just that such things aren’t really discussed publicly. It is something of a taboo to talk about clans fighting.”

“How so?”

“It is considered a slight against the clan’s name to imply that they have actively tried to harm another clan’s livelihood. Though it happens all the time, most consider it an improper topic for discussion.” She shrugs. “Or at least, that is the way it is viewed on Europa and Titan. On places like Ganymede and Triton, things are a bit more… Open. It is still considered in poor taste to bring it up, but people are more willing to discuss it.”

“Interesting,” Claude joins in. “I wasn’t aware that Imperial culture differed that much from place to place.”

“It really depends on the colony’s history,” she replies. “For example, Titan was the first Imperial world, so their culture is far more traditional, almost to the point of calling it fundamentalist.” She crosses her arms, leaning forward. “Though with the new empress, it is possible that things will change. She is the youngest person to ever lead the Empire. And as far as speculation goes, she is a complete mystery.”

“A mystery?” Tom raises an eyebrow. “What, don’t Imperial leaders give speeches?”

“Not often,” she explains. “Most of the time, the only people who speak with the emperor or empress would be the Lord-Admiral and their ministers.”

“So it’s more an issue of respect than actually believing that the clans aren’t to blame?” You jump back into the conversation.

“Perhaps,” Corrigan says with unease. “Though it is entirely possible that the news people actually believe that the Federation or radicals are responsible.”

>”What can you tell me about the Empress?”
>”Why are these anti-military radicals so powerful? I thought Imperials viewed the military with the utmost respect.”
>”And you don’t the ink the Federation could’ve been involved?”
>Change the channel.
>Write-in.

>>853025
>”What can you tell me about the Empress?”

>>853025
>>”What can you tell me about the Empress?”

>>853025
>>”Why are these anti-military radicals so powerful? I thought Imperials viewed the military with the utmost respect.”

>>853025
>”Why are these anti-military radicals so powerful? I thought Imperials viewed the military with the utmost respect.”

“What can you tell me about the Empress?”

Corrigan frowns thoughtfully before speaking. “There is not much to tell,” she begins. “All that I know for certain is that she ascended to the throne about two years ago, when Emperor Julian died. Some say that she is still a child, others say that she is around our age.” She shakes her head. “There are many conflicting stories of what kind of person the Empress is. However, her actions have spoken louder than words. The first Imperial decree that she put forth was a request for peace. Because of this decree, we entered peace-talks with the Federation. Then, after that she signed another decree that reformed several institutions.”

“So she’s trying to make the Empire a little bit less traditional,” Tom says.

“As far as I can tell, yes.” Corrigan nods.

“Yeah,” Claude speaks up. “I remember. Federal missionaries weren’t allowed to travel to Imperial worlds until one of the Empress’s new decrees went into effect.” He grins.

“Yes,” Corrigan continues. “Many of her policies have been attempts to strengthen relations with the Federation.”

“She’s trying everything she can to avoid another war,” you say.

“So it would seem,” Corrigan replies. “Which makes sense. It was not until the later days of the War when anti-military activism became a major problem. I believe that she is still trying to curb those sympathies among the populace.”

“And how can you be sure this is the Empress and not just her ministers?” Virgo speaks up cynically.

“That is a very real possibility,” she replies bluntly. “Though the ministers have been the same for the last twenty years. I believe that they would have tried to force change earlier if they really intended to.”

“I see…” Virgo frowns. “So the Empress wants peace, but that would put the Missile clans out of business…” He grimaces before continuing. “Is it possible that they’re conspiring to raise tensions and cause an arms race?”

“There’s already an intense arms race going on,” Tom says. “I don’t know, it just seems like an attack by radicals to me.”

A few people at the table look over at you. “What do you think, captain?” Solfrid speaks up after being quiet for most of the conversation.

>”Tom’s right. It’s probably just radicals.”
>”It could be what Virgo’s suggesting. Missile Clans causing trouble to make a quick buck.”
>”Maybe it was just a horrible accident. That’s possible, right?”
>”It wouldn’t surprise me if the Federation is involved somehow. This just screams clandestine military work.”
>”I don’t think it’s something we need to worry about right now.”
>Write-in.

>>853312
>>”I don’t think it’s something we need to worry about right now.”

>>853312
>”It could be what Virgo’s suggesting. Missile Clans causing trouble to make a quick buck.”
>”I don’t think it’s something we need to worry about right now.”
Not like we can do anything about it.

>>853312
>>”Maybe it was just a horrible accident. That’s possible, right?”
Contrarionism!

>>853312
>”It wouldn’t surprise me if the Federation is involved somehow. This just screams clandestine military work.”

>>853312
>>”It could be what Virgo’s suggesting. Missile Clans causing trouble to make a quick buck.”

"It might be what Virgo is suggesting," you begin. "Wouldn't surprise me if the missile clans are just trying to make a quick buck, but I don’t think it’s something we need to worry about right now.” With that, everyone just kind of goes back to eating, as do you. The rest of lunch goes on without much important conversation. And when you finish eating you head up to the bridge while Tom gets some shut-eye.

The bridge is a surprisingly lonely place when you’re just drifting through the black. Up until now, you hadn’t actually been on bridge watch at all. You sit in your chair and keep an eye on the various instruments on your panel. After a while, you decide to pull out the book that Blackheart gave you.

You finish the last couple of paragraphs of the second story, then begin reading the third. What feels like hours pass as you chew through the story, eventually having to close the book. You rub your eyes, looking around the emptiness of space outside your ship. Only six inches of glass separate you from it.

The thought of that glass shattering is a sobering thought. Looking at the clock, you see that you’ve only been on watch for about an hour. It is boring work indeed, no matter how critical it is.

However, you find yourself pulled from your thoughts by a small alarm. You look down at your panel, seeing that it is merely the watch-clock buzzing at its regular time to keep whoever is on watch awake. You sigh with relief at the knowledge that the buzzing isn’t anything major.

You click the buzzer off and slump back into your chair. You’re glad you didn’t skimp out and get the cheap ones, seeing as you’re spending a lot of time in it.

You yawn loudly, stretching in your chair. Honestly, you don’t know how Tom and Virgo can manage watch duty for as long as they do. You’re feeling a nap coming on after only an hour.

“Need some coffee?” One of your crew enters the bridge. You swivel around to see them holding a cup out to you.

>Who is it?

>>853586
Cynthia

>>853586
Corrigan

>>853586
Corrigan

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>>853644

I meant >853638, time to commit seppuku

>>853586
Corrigan

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>>853661

>>853586
>Virgo
BROS
BEFORE
HOES

File: Corrigan3.png (582 KB, 600x900)

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You take the steaming mug from Corrigan’s hand, smiling. “Thanks,” you say. She has another mug for herself, as well as a large-ish thermos.

“You’re welcome,” she smiles back. “Do you mind if I join you?”

“Go ahead,” you reply, gesturing to her seat.

She goes over and sits in the chair, swiveling it around to face you. “I figured you might like some company,” she says, pouring herself a cup of coffee. “It gets lonely up here on watch.”

“You said it,” you agree. “For every interesting thing there is in space, there’s a whole lot of nothing to balance it out.”

The two of you sit there for a bit, sipping on your coffee. “Captain,” Corrigan says as she finishes her cup. “Are you troubled by something?”

“I suppose,” you shrug. “It just seems like the galaxy has turned into back into another powder keg over the past couple of months.” You finish your cup of coffee, gesturing for the thermos.

“That is just how things are, I think.” Corrigan says as she hands you the thermos. You fill your cup back up. “Still, it is good that we are at least partially separate from it.”

“Yeah,” you reply, taking another sip. “I just get a really bad feeling whenever I start thinking about all of the sword-rattling. Like I’m going to end up getting yanked back into it somehow.”

Corrigan leans back in her chair. “I do not think that will happen,” she says. “I have faith.”

“I’m not exactly the religious type,” you frown at her. “Sorry.”

Corrigan looks away from you, blushing slightly. “I am not talking about faith is any gods,” she says. Then she looks back at you. “I have faith in you, captain. You have always tried to do the right thing, ever since I first met you.” She leans forward. “I would like very much to stay here for as long as I can…” She trails off. “I like being aboard this ship, with this crew… And with you, captain.” She looks away, blushing. “Actually… I believe that was inappropriate, wasn’t it?”

>Write-in.

>>853870
Not by my standards. You're being honest in your preferences.

>>853870
Not really, just phrasing.

>>853870
Eh? Not really?
Being honest is good, right?
Don't they have a culture like that?

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“There’s nothing inappropriate about being honest,” you reply. “It’s good to know I inspire that kind of loyalty.

“Oh… I see,” Corrigan smiles slightly. “That makes me happy to hear it.”

There is another bit of silence as the two of you drink your coffee. You figure that Corrigan probably doesn’t have much to talk about. “So, did you have fun on Ganymede?” You stretch as you speak, the coffee rejuvenating you.

“I did,” she nods. “It was very nice to be able to actually enjoy Ganymede. I understand why tourists love it so much now.”

“Yeah,” you reply. “It was interesting, that’s for sure.” You think back to the two days you’d spent there. It was worlds different from your experience of Europa.

“Though I must say, I was surprised to see the strange man from the coffee house was a passenger of ours.” She frowns. “I do not like him. He seems like a machine man.”

“I highly doubt he’s a machine man,” you reply jokingly. “Though I know what you mean. Everything about him seems… Off.”

“Which one is he?” She asks. “The one bound for Triton or the one bound for New Albany?”

“New Albany, unfortunately,” you grimace.

“So we will have to live alongside him for the next week or so,” she replies. “I suppose it is okay as long as he keeps to himself.”

“That’s the one good thing about him,” you say. “He seems very private.”

You empty your mug for a third time, refilling it and taking another sip. “Also, captain,” Corrigan speaks up as you take a sip. “I believe that we should get some Harpoon-GS3 missiles before we spend too much time in the Frontiers.”

“And what are Harpoon-GS3 missiles?” You raise an eyebrow at her.

“They are special homing cluster-missiles,” she explains happily. “And they have a 360-degree tracker, so they can be used to dissuade any pursuing pirates.” She grins. “And once the warheads are locked-on, it is almost impossible to jam them.”

“Really?” You cross your arms.

“Indeed,” she says. “They are guided by three separate targeters, so if one is spoofed, the others can still keep it on track.”

“Interesting,” you reply. “Where can we find them?”

Corrigan pulls a clipping from a weapons magazine out of her pocket, handing it to you. “Apparently they can be found on any Federal Core Worlds.”

>”Our missiles are probably good enough.”
>”I’ll look into it if and when we have the cash.”
>”What kind of missiles do we have on hand right now?”
>Write-in.

>>854194
>>”I’ll look into it if and when we have the cash.”
>”What kind of missiles do we have on hand right now?”

>>854194
>>”What kind of missiles do we have on hand right now?”

>>854194
>>”What kind of missiles do we have on hand right now?”

>>854194
>What kind of missiles do we have on hand right now?”
Also, they sound really expensive.

“Wait, what kind of missiles do we have on-hand?” You lean forward.

“Regular high-explosive,” she replies with a frown. “They’re basically the most average missiles imaginable. Radar-guided, intermediate range. Nothing very special.” She sighs. “And we only have ten of them. Our missile magazine is designed to hold thirty.”

“I see,” you say. “Well, those Harpoons look pretty expensive…” You trail off.

“They are actually relatively affordable,” she insists. “The Federation just switched to a new design apparently, so the Harpoons are being sold off en-masse.”

“And how do they compare to missiles like the ones we already have?” You sigh.

“Well…” She begins. “They are significantly more expensive than the ones we currently have, but I believe that they would be worth the extra expense in the long run.”

>”I’ll consider it.”
>”The ones we have are good enough.”
>Write-in.

>>854423
>”I’ll consider it.”

>>854423
>>”I’ll consider it.”

>>854423
>>”I’ll consider it.”
If it's in the budget.

>>854423
>”I’ll consider it.”
Guess there is not much point arguing about missiles with someone from a missle clan (she is right?). Why do I even have purse strings?

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“I’ll consider it,” you reply.

“Right,” Corrigan replies with a smile.

“But only if we have the budget to afford the missiles when the time comes,” you add. “I’m not putting us into debt so that we can have better missiles.”

“I understand,” she says.

The two of you talk about a few other inconsequential things for a while before you finish off the last of the coffee and Corrigan has to head downstairs for something. You go back to reading your book and occasionally glancing over at your instrument panel.

Eventually, Virgo shows up and takes over for you. With not much to do, you head downstairs to the wardroom, where you find the preacher, Claude, sitting at one of the tables reading a bible. Cynthia and Solfrid sit across from one another, playing some kind of card game you aren’t familiar with. Thankfully, someone turned the TV off after lunch was over.

“Hey, Allen!” Cynthia looks over at you, waving. It doesn’t really surprise you that Cynthia has already made friends with Solfrid. “So how long until we get to Triton?”

“About two days,” you reply, leaning against the bulkhead.

“So captain,” Claude speaks up, not looking up from his bible. “You ever been to Triton?”

“Never,” you reply.

“It’s a tiny moon,” he begins. “No atmosphere to speak of. Everyone lives in enclosed habitat cities. Used to be a really nice place though. Until everything started to go bad.”

“You talking about the riots?” Cynthia looks over at the man.

“No,” he replies simply. “Things were beginning to go bad there long before that. Even before the war, things were starting to go sideways.” He sighs, closing his bible and gently setting it on the table. “Though the riots are most certainly not helping. But what actually did the place in was when the rich osmium deposits ran dry about twelve years ago…” He trails off. “Anyway. It’s not a place you want to stick around for too long if you can help it.”

“Yeah,” Cynthia says. “We weren’t planning on staying long.”

“Good.”

>”So why is a preacher headed there?”
>”You sound pretty familiar with Triton. Have you been there before?”
>Say nothing.
>Write-in.

>>854594
>>”You sound pretty familiar with Triton. Have you been there before?”

>>854594
>”You sound pretty familiar with Triton. Have you been there before?”

>>854594
>”You sound pretty familiar with Triton. Have you been there before?”

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“You sound pretty familiar with Triton,” you say. “Have you been there?”

“I have,” the preacher replies with a distant smile. “Lived there for five years. It was back before I became a priest.” He chuckles. “Man, those were different times.”

“What did you do before you were a preacher?” Cynthia raises an eyebrow at the man.

“Lots of things,” he replies with a bark of laughter. “But when I lived on Triton, I was a mining consultant.” He shrugs casually, picking his bible back up. “Or at least I was for the first year or so after I got there. Then the osmium dried up and I had to become an insurance adjuster.”

“That’s an odd shift in employment,” you remark.

“Yeah,” he says. “But that’s the thing. When everything else is starting to fail, the insurance industry makes a killing,” he grimaces. “It’s unfortunate, and I’m not exactly fond of it, but I had to eat.”

“So what made you become a priest?” Cynthia leans back in the booth, still playing the card game with Solfrid. “Couldn’t have been the paycheck.”

Claude practically doubles over laughing. “Yeah, you’re right about that.” He says as he lifts his sunglasses, wiping a tear away. “I guess it was a few different reasons. Part of me wanted to give back after being so fortunate, I guess.” He sighs. “And I suppose it was also because of my old man…” He trails off. “After my dad learned that he had a kid,” he points to himself. “He cleaned up his act and became a priest. Raised me while running a little church out in New Oakland. He didn’t know a thing about preaching or the bible, but he tried anyway. Eventually he got it right, I think.” Claude pats his own bible knowingly.

>”So why are you headed back to Triton then?” (pry, roll a 1d100, best of three)
>”How’d you get into the mining industry on an Imperial colony? I thought the Rock Clans ran that kind of stuff.”
>”New Oakland? I’ve never heard of that colony.”
>Write-in.

>>854745
>”How’d you get into the mining industry on an Imperial colony? I thought the Rock Clans ran that kind of stuff.”
I guess when you are a spacer just bouncing between ports in the same ship with the same people it would be pretty common to grill you passengers to uncomfortable lengths.
Is anyone else reading this preacher in Shepherd Book's voice?

>>854745
>>”How’d you get into the mining industry on an Imperial colony? I thought the Rock Clans ran that kind of stuff.”

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“How’d you get into the mining industry on an Imperial colony?” You cross your arms. “I thought the rock clans controlled everything like that.”

The priest raises an eyebrow at you. “You’re a sharp fellow, captain.” He grins widely. “But this was almost fifteen years ago. The clans didn’t have nearly as much power. Especially the ones that weren’t associated with the military. There was a lot more free enterprise back then.”

“What caused it to change?” This time it’s Solfrid who speaks up, now interested in the conversation. “I mean, the clans are pretty much the only major business owners as far as I can tell.”

“You probably don’t realize just how expansive and resource-consuming the War was,” Claude says. “Everything got consolidated under as few names as possible in the name of efficiency.” He sighs. “Put a lot of people out of business, but it put even more people to work. On both sides.”

“That’s true,” you add. “The Federation’s war industry got consolidated into about four different companies. They still haven’t broken up the defense monopolies they created.” You shrug. “Though from what I hear, it’s slowing down.”

“You were a soldier, right?” The preacher looks over at you with a knowing gaze.

“How could you tell?”

“Well,” he begins. “You’re about the right age to have been in the military during that time…” He looks away somewhat guiltily. “And the way you carry yourself. Almost like you’re walking on eggshells. A lot of veterans I’ve talked to are like that too.” He pauses for a minute, as if looking for the right words to say. “You know, captain… If it’s any consolation, I talk to people for a living. If you’ve got troubles, I’ll listen to ‘em.” He shrugs. “Just a thought.”

>”No thanks.”
>”I don’t need some self-proclaimed holy man trying to save my soul. I’m not that naïve anymore.”
>”There’s not much to tell that I haven’t already said.”
>”I was aboard the Abraxis. Trust me, you wouldn’t be able to stomach what I have to say.”
>”I’ll consider it.”
>Write-in.

>>854912
>”I’ll consider it.”
We do have nightmares and feel rather bitter toward the whole war thing but I don't think it is affecting us so much that we need to seek psychiatric help.

>>854912
>>”I’ll consider it.”

>>854912
>>”I’ll consider it.”
It can't hurt

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“I’ll consider it,” you relent.

“Fair enough,” Claude says with a good natured smile. “I’ll probably be hanging out in the wardroom for most of the rest of the voyage, so you know where to find me.”

“Captain,” Virgo’s voice rings over the intercom. “We’ve got a proximity warning on the intercom here. There’s a large object in our path…”

You walk over to the wardroom intercom and turn it on. “Okay, I read you. How much time do we have until our courses cross?”

“A little over five minutes, sir.”

“I’m going to go wake Tom up,” Cynthia says as she stands up.

“Okay,” you reply. “I’ll get Corrigan.” With that, you both head toward the staterooms, with Cynthia stopping at Tom’s door and you at Corrigan’s. You knock on her door and she immediately opens it.

“I heard the intercom from here,” she says. The two of you head back toward the wardroom, meeting up with a tired-looking Tom.

“What’s goin’ on, sir?” He mumbles, scratching his head.

“Proximity alarm,” you reply.

“Okay,” he says. “Let’s get up to the bridge and see what it is.

The three of you make your way to the bridge, relieving Virgo of his watch. Taking your seats, you wait for Tom to read off the size and distance of the object.

“Uh…” Whatever it is, it’s big,” he says worriedly. “I’m adjusting course around it. We’ll be within visual range without danger of it hitting us.”

“Alright,” you reply. “Corrigan can you use the weapons if you need to?”

“I can, sir.” She activates the FCS panel. “Bringing targeting systems online now.”

“It’s closing on us…” Tom says. “It’ll be passing within 500 meters of us in a minute.”

You wait anxiously, peering out through the windows. Suddenly, a massive shape looms into view above you, not an asteroid, but something man-made.

Judging by the size and markings you’d guess that it was once a heavy cruiser. However, there are massive holes all across it, with scorch markings around the edges. You immediately realize what you’re looking at as the ship’s name comes into view.

FNV WALES

You’ve just run into a ghost ship.

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That's gonna be it for Episode 6! Episode 7 will be going up sometime later this week, probably Friday due to prior obligations. As always, post comments criticisms, concerns, and pretty much whatever until then.

Mood music:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mfbV6sSrn_4

>>854989
Thanks for running. Looking look there is some action coming up, hopefully Virgo gets shot, friendo gets spaced and someone stops Solfrid from seaking onto the ghostship while no-one is looking.

Ganymede was less of a boring "color" arc than I expected so well done with that I suppose.

>>854989
Oh yeah, a question.
How rare/common is AI in this setting? How widespread is it?
How automated can ships be made?
Asking just in case.

>>855083
AIs are relatively commonplace, though not in a traditional sense. Most AIs are actually just probability calculators and autopilot systems. Their autonomy and intelligence is highly limited. They don't control things like life-support or weapons.

This is mainly due to a very famous incident about 100 years ago that caused the public to become very untrustworthy of highly-independent AIs. There was a mishap involving a rogue AI aboard a military ship that nearly caused a catastrophe.

>>855750
Of course. Then again, the only time I saw a benevolent AI with supreme power was from a indie game a year ago.
Then again, since I don't know the details for the situation, right now I'll be sitting here with hands on the chin with a intrested face.

Hey everyone:

Due to some real life stuff, I won't be running this weekend. However, I plan to run throughout next week instead. Look for Episode 7 on Tuesday. It'll be going up that afternoon.

>>867000
Nice trips. It's okay,dude.