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The rest of the trip to Triton was relatively uneventful. You decided to take up the preacher, Claude, on his offer to listen to your war stories. Though you aren’t sure if it helped, it was kind of nice to talk about it with someone who isn’t an immediate friend. Other than that, not much happened though. You learned from Cynthia that the gold you took from the wreck of the Wales doesn’t have any tracking devices, which certainly makes things easier.

Triton is pretty much exactly as Claude described it: no atmosphere to speak of, with all human settlements being in massive, metal pods on stilts. You peer out through the bridge windows as the Bad Habit pulls up to the oldest and largest of the pods, Station McArthur. A remnant of the pre-Federation colonization of the solar system, it still has the massive red white and blue flag of the US painted on the side.

The Bad Habit pulls into a docking slot that opens on the skin of Station McArthur, and you feel the barely-noticeable shudder of the landing gear deploying. During the trip over, Cynthia tweaked the speed settings on them so that they would open more smoothly.

The ship touches down in a space that looks more like a massive hangar than a dockyard. You see that most of the vessels parked in here are either the Bad Habit’s size or smaller. It makes sense, Triton is kind of out of the way compared to the moons of the more important outer planets.

“Cargo door’s opening, sir.” Tom swivels around to face you. “I’ll head down and see about meeting with the port authority.”

“Sounds good,” you nod. You get up from your chair and head downstairs with him, stopping in the Wardroom to get some coffee. Tom heads down without you as you turn the television on and switch it over to the news.

There is more coverage of the explosion at the Imperial Navy yard that occurred a couple of days ago. Still nothing substantial, but the Imperial military appears to be trying to shut down any speculation until they complete their own investigation.

You turn the TV off and head downstairs, helping Tom unload the cargo, which the dockworkers quickly take off your hands. The refined palladium and ammunition took up quite a bit of space in your hold. Tom stretches as the last of the forklifts leave. “Well Captain, I’m going to head back upstairs and get everything else squared away. I’ll collect the fare from our passenger too.”

You wave him off and lean up against one of the hydraulic supports, rubbing your eyes. That nightmare from a couple of days ago rattled you more than it should have. You figure that it has something to do with the Wales, but you don’t normally lose your nerve so easily.

“Good afternoon,” an Imperial accent catches your attention. “I presume you are the captain of this vessel?” You look over to see a man in an Imperial Navy uniform, probably a junior officer, if you had to take a guess.

>”Yeah.”
>”Depends on who’s asking.”
>”Buzz off.”
>”Something wrong?”
>Write-in.

>>920943
> yeah
Shit, Corrigan has already reported in, that was fast.

>>920943
>>”Yeah.”

“Yeah,” you cross your arms. “I’m the captain.”

The officer holds out a hand for you to shake, smiling slightly. You figure he’s probably used to dealing with people from outside the Empire, most Imperials don’t smile or shake hands when greeting someone.

You shake his hand and he nods at you. “My name is Sub-lieutenant Sergei Rittenbach. I am a liaison for the port authority.” He seems to stumble over his words for a second before continuing. “Since Triton is not a very large hub of trade, we try to greet every captain that arrives here personally, I apologize for being late.”

You raise an eyebrow at the man. “It’s not a problem,” you reply. “Still, I wasn’t aware that the port authority sent officials to meet with captains.”

“It is a policy that our governor implemented,” Rittenbach explains. “He says that it is important to make good first impressions.” He trails off. You kind of feel bad for the guy, he’s obviously trying his hardest to not act like an Imperial. “If there is anything that I may do to help you while you are here, I would be happy to help.”

>”Could you direct me to any points of interest? Places to get cargo contracts, embassies, and things like that.”
>”Where’s the nearest place I can get a stiff drink?”
>”I’ve been hearing about protests on Triton recently, is it safe here?”
>”I don’t think I’ll need any help, thank you.”
>Write-in.

>>921229
>”I’ve been hearing about protests on Triton recently, is it safe here?”
>”Could you direct me to any points of interest? Places to get cargo contracts, embassies, and things like that.”

>>921229
>>”I’ve been hearing about protests on Triton recently, is it safe here?”
>”Could you direct me to any points of interest? Places to get cargo contracts, embassies, and things like that.”

>>921229
>>”I’ve been hearing about protests on Triton recently, is it safe here?”

>>921229
> Ask him to carry our bags
Kekekek

>>921229
>”Could you direct me to any points of interest? Places to get cargo contracts, embassies, and things like that.”
>"Anywhere I don't want to be given the hubub?"
>"I must say your doing well in your assignment, not many would put the effort in to be so personable"
I feel that's a better, more polite way to ask if shits going down. Also lets give the man a bit of praise for stepping out of his cultural norm on a shit assignment.

"Could you point me to any major points of interest? Places to get cargo contracts, embassies, other stuff?"

The man looks thoughtfully at you. "The Embassies are on this level," he points to an area across the hangar. There are several doorways with windows next to them. He then gestures to a bank of elevators on the far side of the same area. "Those elevators lead to the market areas, where you will be able to find public houses and coffee houses to get contracts for cargo."

"Good to know, you reply with a small grin. However, another thought crosses your mind before he can speak up again. "Oh, and another thing," you begin. "I heard about protests going on. Is it safe here?"

Rittenbach sighs, rubbing his eyes and muttering something in his native language. "Yes..." He finally begins. "There have been pockets of unrest for the past few months. But they are mostly centered at other stations." He shrugs. "McArthur is the safest place on Triton, I promise you."

"Right," you frown, shrugging. "Good to hear."

"But if you do not feel safe traveling alone, you could request a police escort," he adds. "They do not have much to do around here anyway, since the Army declared martial law anyway..."

>"Well thanks for the info!" (ends conversation)
>"Martial law?"
>Write-in.

>>921898
>>"Martial law?"

>>921898
>"Martial law?"
For pockets of unrest?

>>921898
>>"Martial law?"

>>921898
>>"Martial law?"

>>921898
>"Martial law? Entirely or just in specific stations?"

"Wait up," you say. "What's this about martial law?"

He looks sheepishly at you before replying. "After the largest of the riots, over at Station Kosmolet, the Imperial High Command decided to take over policing duties on all of Triton until the unrest died down." He frowns. "They have not handed authority back to the police yet."

"So the whole moon is under martial law now?"

Rittenbach nods at you. "Though many see it as a waste of resources, and for good reason. Most of the unrest has calmed down since the military arrived." He sighs. "It has made things exceptionally difficult for the governor."

"And how long has it been like this?" You look around, noticing several squads of Imperial Naval Infantry walking around the hangars, seemingly running patrols.

"About a month," he replies tiredly. "Though martial law was only declared after they had been here for almost a week."

All of a sudden, there is a burst of static from the walkie on Rittenbach's belt. He frowns apologetically and picks it up, speaking in his native tongue. "Da?" He raises an eyebrow as the person on the other end replies to him. "Zies est Rittenbach..." The voice on the other end speaks hurriedly. "Desyat' minut." He frowns and puts the walkie talkie back on his belt. "Excuse me," he says apologetically. "I need to be going." You wave him off and he turns and walks away.

>Head to the embassies, you need to get that gold on its way to Blackheart.
>Head up to get some cargo contracts.
>Go back into the ship and see you passenger off.
>Meet up with Tom and see how much money you made on cargo.

>>922297
>>Head to the embassies, you need to get that gold on its way to Blackheart.

>>922297
>>Head to the embassies, you need to get that gold on its way to Blackheart.

>>922297
>Go back into the ship and see you passenger off.
Get the crew to stand in a line by the offramp and awkwardly wish them a good journey and thanks for their custom.

We are just going to ship the gold? So it arrives at reznor's pride and they open it up and there is all this gold and a post-it note saying "Dear Blackheart, plz fence."

>>922297
>Go back into the ship and see you passenger off.
Common courtesy and takes less than a few minutes
>Head to the embassies, you need to get that gold on its way to Blackheart.
Because damn that cargo is hot.

>>922347
Call her, arrange either a pick up or a dead drop

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>>922358
I assume going to the embassy is part of establishing communication. I'm not sure how secure a message we could send on our lonesome, especially in an area with martial law. Also pic I don't get to use often in context.

>>922297
>Head to the embassies, you need to get that gold on its way to Blackheart.
>Go back into the ship and see you passenger off.
shoo shoo

>>922413
what is the context of this image?

>>922500
http://www.gettyimages.co.nz/detail/news-photo/south-korean-riot-police-use-force-to-break-up-a-protest-in-news-photo/94656738

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You decide that it would probably be a good idea to get that gold off of your ship as soon as possible. The best way to do that, you figure, is by contacting Blackheart and getting her to fence it.

You get ready to leave the ship, and as you turn to descend the cargo ramp, you hear a voice behind you. "Captain."

Turning around, you see Claude standing there with his luggage: a massive cross slung over his back, as well as a large suitcase. "Afternoon, Claude," you nod at the man.

He walks down the ramp and stands next to you, sighing and pulling out a cigarette. "Want one?" He holds out the pack to you. Filterless Lucky Strikes, the oldest brand still around.

"No thanks," you reply. "I quit."

Claude chuckles, pocketing the pack and producing a small, metal lighter. "Fair enough," he says. "I probably should quit too." He lights it, inhaling deeply. "This stuff's gonna kill me eventually." He grins. "But hey, no need for any doom and gloom. Thanks for the ride, Captain."

"Of course," you reply politely. "Glad you enjoyed the trip."

"Well if you'll excuse me, I've got to be heading to my destination." He waves at you as he walks out into the hangar, disappearing into the crowds.

You make your way to the embassies, finding the Independent Colonies' shared embassy rather quickly. It has a rather small reception area, though it is nicely decorated. As soon as you enter, the girl at the counter looks up at you, putting down a magazine.

"Good afternoon, sir!" She smiles at you. It is immediately obvious that she's not an Imperial. "Are you here on diplomatic business?"

"Yes I am," you reply with a nod. You produce your deputy badge and hand it to her. "I need to speek with the ambassador from Reznor's Pride. It's somewhat urgent."

"Right," the girl nods. "I'll get you a secure communication room." With that, she stands up and walks into a back room. A couple of minutes later, she returns. "I have Ambassador Harrington on the line, please follow me."

File: Blackheart.jpg (30 KB, 640x480)

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You are brought to a small-ish room with a comfortable-looking couch facing a large, holographic projector. There are subtle creature comforts all around the room to make guests feel more comfortable. Over all, it is probably the nicest government facility you've visited. "Nice place," you nod.

The girl points to a red button on the side of the projector, within arms' reach of the couch. "The call is on hold right now, press this button to pick up and begin talking." With that, she bows respectfully and leaves the room.

You sit down, stretching a little. Then you press the button and the projector flickers to life. On the screen is a blond-haired woman who looks vaguely like Blackheart. "Why hello, Captain." She grins, and the disguise dissipates. It was apparently a holographic mask. You now sit face-to-face with the pirate Blackheart, or at least a hologram of her. "To what do I owe the unexpected pleasure?"

>"First off, is this line secure?"
>"Here's the deal, I've got a bag of gold bars with the serials filed off, I need you to help me turn them into standards."
>"I have some sensitive diplomatic cargo that needs your attention."
>"It's good to see you, Ambassador. How have things been?"
>Write-in."

>>922733
>"It's good to see you, Ambassador. How have things been?"

>>922733
>"It's good to see you, Ambassador. How have things been?"
>"Is this line completely secure?"

>>922733
>"It's good to see you, Ambassador. How have things been?"
>"First off, is this line secure?"

>>922733
>"It's good to see you, Ambassador. How have things been?"
>"I have some sensitive diplomatic cargo that needs your attention."
In particular my current falicities don't have the resources for discreet liquidation.

"It's good to see you, Ambassador," you begin with a nod. "How have you been?"

Blackheart grins slightly, leaning back in her chair. "Oh, you know..." She trails off. "Things have been about as well as can be expected in my line of work. I just finished a diplomatic mission near New Liberia."

"I see," you nod. Then you lean in, lowering your voice slightly. "Is this channel completely secure?"

She raises an eyebrow at you. "What, don't want to be caught talking to a pirate? I'm hurt..." She fake-pouts at you before grinning. "Of course it's secure. I make sure every asset of mine is as safe as possible, including my faux-diplomatic ties." Her good eye narrows. "This channel is more secure than the Federal Strategic Command's main comm network. I should know, I've broken into it a few times." She stretches tiredly. "So what's all the secrecy about anyway? You in some hot water with the authorities?"

>"I've got some sensitive cargo that needs liquidated."
>"I pulled some gold from a shipwreck. The serials were filed off. I need you to help me turn it into cash that I can use."
>"Maybe I'm just a really private guy." (joke)
>Write-in.

>>922875
>"Maybe I'm just a really private guy." (joke)
>But really
>>"I've got some sensitive cargo that needs liquidated."
>"I pulled some gold from a shipwreck. The serials were filed off. I need you to help me turn it into cash that I can use."

>>922875
>>"I pulled some gold from a shipwreck. The serials were filed off. I need you to help me turn it into cash that I can use."

>>922875
>"I pulled some gold from a shipwreck. The serials were filed off. I need you to help me turn it into cash that I can use."

I think I'm going to call it a night. With having to fix my heater earlier, I'm just too beat to keep running right now. We'll resume tomorrow afternoon.

Mood music:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AQ6BgTitt1E

>>922994
Thanks for running! I hope we get a stylish paintjob for our boat and some cool shades too next time.

>>922875
>"I pulled some gold from a shipwreck. The serials were filed off. I need you to help me turn it into cash that I can use."

>>922875
>"I pulled some gold from a shipwreck. The serials were filed off. I need you to help me turn it into cash that I can use."

>>922875
>>"Maybe I'm just a really private guy." (joke)
>>"I pulled some gold from a shipwreck. The serials were filed off. I need you to help me turn it into cash that I can use."

"I pulled some gold bars from a shipwreck," you begin. "The serials have been filed off..." You trail off, waiting to see Blackheart's reaction.

She leans forward, seemingly intrigued. "Unmarked gold from a shipwreck," she says with a grin. "Now that's interesting. I assume you need someone to take it off your hands, right?"

You nod. "That's the idea."

She frowns a little bit, as if doing some mental math. "How much gold are we talking?"

"Twenty bars," you reply. "Enough to fill a decent-sized mechanic's bag. They're stamped with the Federal Treasury's emblem."

She mumbles something to herself before holding up a finger. "Just a sec, let me do some math here..." She whips out a notepad and a small calculator. "If they've got the Treasury seal on them, they're probably half-kilo bars..." She grumbles, looking over somewhere off-screen. "Well, gold prices aren't great right now, especially with the gold rush out near the Attican Pocket..." She smiles apologetically. "And it's hot cargo, so I'll have to get rid of it for less than it's worth." She writes something down on the notepad. "The absolute best I can do on it without taking a loss is thirty-thousand standards..."

>"... Deal." (begrudgingly accept)
>"Fair enough." (accept)
>"That's not enough. I'll fence it myself." (refuse)
>"Why such a low amount? It can't be that expensive to get rid of it on your end."
>Write-in.

>>925160
>"Fair enough." (accept)
Honestly it's better than nothing and it will still help the ship quite a bit.

>>925160
>"Fair enough." (accept)
Probably a lowball, but its still good cash, and the big thing is we want that hot stuff off our vessel. No doubt Blackheart is taking advantage of this, but I don't begrudge taking a cut out of our profits for avoiding heat our rinky dink frigate and crew can't, or don't want to, handle. Not even angry, it was somewhat expected. And while we're being lowballed Blackheart probably wants a good relationship with us and our future endeavors so as not to screw us over, or go too low.

>>925160
>"Fair enough." (accept)

Considering its hot, being friendly about it is probably the best route, despite the loss.

>>925160
Throw in a signed wanted poster and you have a deal.

>>925160
>>"Fair enough." (accept)
Not like I worked particularly hard to get it anyways

"Fair enough," you reply with a shrug. "I'm honestly just glad to get it off my ship. Like you said, it's hot cargo."

Blackheart nods. "Some of the hottest cargo imaginable if it's Federal Treasury. Anyway, the way I see it, there are two ways we can do this. Either we meet up between your next two destinations, or I send a guy to meet you at the next place you land. Where are you headed anyway?"

"New Albany, actually," you reply. Blackheart seems to change her demeanor entirely.

"Well shit," her good eye goes wide. "That could make the second option pretty dicey. I'm not too fond of sending another one of my guys into a warzone to pick up hot cargo." She crosses her arms. "However, your FTL route should take you right through the Fields of Minerva. It's probably the emptiest sector of space between there and the Frontiers. The only activity through that region would be FTL routes..." She pauses and raises an eyebrow. "Shouldn't be too far out of my way either. It'd be a good meeting place." She shrugs before continuing. "But it's your cargo, so I'll let you make the call about where we meet."

>"The deep-space meeting sounds good."
>"Send a guy to meet me at New Albany."
>"Warzone? I heard that there was some militant unrest there, but I didn't think it was that bad."
>"What else can you tell me about the Fields of Minerva?"
>Write-in.

>>925485
>>"The deep-space meeting sounds good."

>>925485
>>"The deep-space meeting sounds good."
>"Warzone? I heard that there was some militant unrest there, but I didn't think it was that bad."
>"What else can you tell me about the Fields of Minerva?"

>>925485
>"The deep-space meeting sounds good."
>"Warzone? I heard that there was some militant unrest there, but I didn't think it was that bad."
Just don't stare too long into the black when we are there.

>>925485

>"The deep-space meeting sounds good."
>"What else can you tell me about the Fields of Minerva?"

"Warzone?" You raise an eyebrow. "I heard some rumors of militant unrest on New Albany, but I didn't think it was that bad."

Blackheart looks away, furrowing her brow. "I'm not a hundred percent sure how bad it is there," she admits. "But something tells me it's a lot worse than the media is telling. I sent a lieutenant of mine there about a week ago..." She trains off, swearing to herself. "I haven't heard back from him. No communication whatsoever. He contacted me once he arrived, then dead-silence on his end ever since." She sighs. "So that's why I don't feel good about sending another one of my guys there. The Fields of Minerva just seem like a much safer option."

"Speaking of that," you add. "What else can you tell me about the Fields of Minerva?"

"Not much," she concedes. "It's empty space about halfway between Sol and New Albany. More specifically, it's a place between two planetless star systems. The only through-traffic is FTL usually, so we'd see any authorities coming in time to get out of there, assuming any happen to be in the area."

"Let's meet at the Fields of Minerva then," you nod.

"Sounds good," Blackheart replies with a grin. "I'll meet you there in a couple of days." She leans back. "So is there anything else you need, Captain?"

>"That's all, thank you." (ends conversation)
>"I've been reading the book you gave me, it's pretty interesting."
>"You mention that you've broken into the Federal Strategic Command's communications. Ever find anything interesting?"
>"How'd you lose your eye?" (roll a 1d100, best of three, high-difficulty)
>Write-in.

>>925941
>>"That's all, thank you." (ends conversation)
We can ask her in person if we have any question.

>>925941

>"That's all, thank you." (ends conversation)
>"You mention that you've broken into the Federal Strategic Command's communications. Ever find anything interesting?"

I kind of feel like there conversation should end, but something tells me that chit-chatting during a handoff of hot goods might be a bad-luck experience. Sure we can see the authorities coming, but no reason to risk before the deal is finished.

>>925941
>>"You mention that you've broken into the Federal Strategic Command's communications. Ever find anything interesting?"

>>925974

Woops, didn't mean for the "end conversation" one there.

>>925941
>>"You mention that you've broken into the Federal Strategic Command's communications. Ever find anything interesting?"

>>925941
>"You mention that you've broken into the Federal Strategic Command's communications. Ever find anything interesting?"

>>925941
>"How'd you lose your eye?" (roll a 1d100, best of three, high-difficulty)

"You mentioned that you broke into the Federal Strategic Command's communication network," you say. "Find anything interesting?"

Blackheart raises an eyebrow at you. "Let's just say I know enough to be dangerous." She smirks. "But I can't go telling my trade secrets now." She chuckles a little bit. "Besides, you wouldn't want to know some of the stuff that the Federation is doing on the sly."

"I have a pretty good idea of some of their less wholesome affairs," you reply. "Seems like that's all they do anymore."

"Well," Blackheart says. "It kind of makes sense..." She frowns. "The War created this entire society based around the military. So now that they don't have an enemy to fight, they have to do something with their mortal implements." She chuckles mirthlessly. "That usually translates into R&D and preparation for another war."

"Are you saying that another war is coming?" You raise your eyebrows at her, leaning forward. Perhaps she knows something about an upcoming operation?

"No," she replies bluntly. "Just that everyone in power is anticipating another one sometime within the decade..." She frowns. "That Admiral Leander guy though... He's something of a wild card. The General Assembly doesn't seem to trust him, but they can't remove him from power because of laws they signed during the War."

"Interesting," you note. "He definitely struck me as a war-hawk. I can see why the Assembly would be worried."

"Wait, you've met him?" Blackheart seems floored at the idea.

"Very briefly," you nod.

"Well you certainly live a more exciting life than most freighter captains," she grins. However, something off-screen gets her attention. A person in the background speaks. "What's that?" She talks to the person in the background. "Calm down, Tylor. What's happening?" The person speaks some more. Blackheart looks at you again. "Captain, I've got to go. I'll meet you at the Fields of Minerva in a couple of days." With that, the transmission cuts out.

You stand up and turn the projector off, leaving the room. As you enter the reception area, the young woman at the counter nods at you. Before you can reach the door, however, someone else opens it and steps in.

File: [slurs in Scottish].jpg (78 KB, 500x737)

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A man in an Imperial Army uniform stands in front of you. He is easily 60, with a full beard and a frightening expression. His rank insignia is unfamiliar to you, but if you had to guess, you'd say he's probably near the top of the officer ranks. Maybe even their equivalent of a general.

"Good afternoon, Ambassador." He nods at you briefly, then walks past you and goes right up to the counter. "Miss," he begins. You note that his accent doesn't sound Imperial. "I need you to get me a secure line with the Ambassador from the Polaris station. It is of the utmost importance."

"Y-yes sir!" She immediately snaps to attention fearfully, jogging back to one of the communication rooms.

>Leave. You need to get back to your ship.
>Talk with the man while he waits for the girl to set up the comm room. You're intrigued.

>>926341

>Talk with the man while he waits for the girl to set up the comm room. You're intrigued.

We've got time, and a little small talk can go a long way.

>>926341
>>Talk with the man while he waits for the girl to set up the comm room. You're intrigued.

>>926341
>>Talk with the man while he waits for the girl to set up the comm room. You're intrigued.

>>926341
>Talk with the man while he waits for the girl to set up the comm room. You're intrigued.

>>926341
>Talk with the man while he waits for the girl to set up the comm room. You're intrigued.

File: Narrien.jpg (11 KB, 590x247)

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The man sighs, leaning against the counter and looking over at you. "I suppose it'll take a while for her to contact Ambassador Syman," he says with a frown. "That man seems to insist on being late for everything." He looks over at you. "So what are you here for?"

"I just got done speaking with the Ambassador from Reznor's Pride," you reply. "I'm Captain Starwind, by the way." You hold out a hand and the man instantly shakes it.

"Very nice to meet you, Captain." He smiles. "I am Colonel Roman Narrien." He sighs a little bit, looking tired. "I figured you for a colonial ambassador, not a spacer."

"Well," you admit. "I'm technically a deputy diplomat." You shrug at the man. "I needed to make a call to Ambassador Harrington, so I stopped by here as soon as my ship touched down."

"I see," he says knowingly. "You know, my father was a spacer. Used to captain an ore freighter out in the Frontiers." He nods, crossing his arms. "Space is an amazing thing. There's nothing like being out in the thick of it, the 'boonies' so to speak." He chuckles heartily. "What type of ship do you fly?"

"An old Oberon," you reply. "First generation."

"Well I'll be..." He muses. "You don't see many of those around anymore. I was just beginning to enter military service when they started retiring the first-gen Oberons. Right before the Hamilton-era reforms."

"You were in the Federal Military?" You raise an eyebrow at the man. The only people who referred to it as the 'Hamilton-era' were Federals. George Hamilton was the Secretary of the Navy, and his reforms modernized the entire Navy.

"Indeed," he replies. "Glasgow, born and raised." He frowns a little bit. "I ended up transferring to the Imperial Army after the Trident Incident. Didn't feel like my heart was in the Federation any more..." He sighs.

"So what do you do now?" You cross your arms.

"Well," he frowns. "After I spoke out against the War, they sort of sidelined my career. Would've made general by two years ago if not for the beureucrats getting offended at my desire to keep everyone under me alive and safe." He looks like he's about to say more, but the girl comes out from the back room excitedly.

"Sir," she calls out. "I have the Ambassador on the line, but he says he's only got five minutes to talk."

Colonel Narrien grumbles to himself. "If he thinks he's going to get snippy with me after what he's done, I'll go to Polaris and kick his arse myself!" He turns to you, bowing slightly. "Good day, captain." With that, he walks back to the comm room, leaving you with the receptionist.

"Is there anything else you need, sir?" She raises an eyebrow at you.

"No thanks," you reply.

Walking out into the main hangar area again, you see that it has become more crowded than it was earlier.

>Head back to the ship and see how much money you made from your cargo and passenger.
>Go look for cargo contracts.
>Look for a crew member. (specify)

>>926834
>>Head back to the ship and see how much money you made from your cargo and passenger.

>>926834
>Head back to the ship and see how much money you made from your cargo and passenger.

>>926834
>Head back to the ship and see how much money you made from your cargo and passenger.
let's see what we've got.

>>926834

>Head back to the ship and see how much money you made from your cargo and passenger.

You make your way back to the ship, where you find most of your crew relaxing in the Wardroom. Solfrid, Cynthia, and Corrigan are all sitting together talking about something. Meanwhile Virgo is sitting in one corner reading a magazine and Tom is watching TV.

"Afternoon, Captain," Tom greets you as you enter the wardroom. "Where have you been?"

"Nowhere in particular," you decide to keep your fencing of the gold on the down-low until the two of you are alone. "How much did we make when we landed?"

Tom stands up and fishes around in his pocket for a decently-large brick of cash. "18,500 Standards," he grins, handing it to you.

"Nice," you reply. It's enough for some serious spending, if that's what you want to do with it.

"So are we going to divide it now or make some ship-related purchases first?" Tom raises an eyebrow at you.

"If I may," Cynthia speaks up. "I think a fan or something is broken down in engineering. I keep hearing something thumping around in the vents. I would recommend waiting for me to tear into it and see what's broken before you divide the cash up, that way we don't have to dip into crew pay for repairs." She shrugs. "Not that I really mind, most of my pay will end up going toward maintenance of the ship anyway. I don't buy very many non-mechanic things."

Tom nods. "She makes a good point, sir. It may be best to hold off until we get provisions and do general maintenance first."

>"We'll divide the cash now."
>"How long is all of that going to take?"
>"Cynthia is right. We'll wait to divide the pay."
>Write-in.

>>926834
>Go look for cargo contracts.
We are already running some guns to a wartorn planet, why not see if anyone else wants to send some.

>>927087
>>"Cynthia is right. We'll wait to divide the pay."

>>927087
>>"Cynthia is right. We'll wait to divide the pay."

>>927087

>"Cynthia is right. We'll wait to divide the pay."

Get this over with so Cynthia can focus on fixing whatever is beating around down there before the ship pulls a challenger on us

>>927087
>"Cynthia is right. We'll wait to divide the pay."

>>927087

>Cynthia, ill be glad to help you tear apart the vents (with a gun. "Thumping", you say...?*Klik klak*)

Also, when we thawing Frosty the Salvage?

>>927087
>"Cynthia is right. We'll wait to divide the pay."

>>927087
>"Cynthia is right. We'll wait to divide the pay."

>>927334
>Talk to Virgo.

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"Cynthia is right," you say with a nod. "We'll divide the pay later."

Tom salutes you casually. "Understood. I'll see about getting a list of needed provisions while Cynthia sees what's broken, that way you'll have all the information you need."

"Okay," you reply. Tom pulls out a notepad and walks back to the dry storage room. Cynthia also gets up from the booth and walks over to you.

"I'll go ahead and get to tearing the vents open," she says. "Give me about half an hour and I'll find whatever is making noise." She stretches. "Should be easy enough, just using a screwdriver and a prybar."

"Right," you nod at her and she heads downstairs, leaving you in the wardroom with your other crew. Corrigan and Solfrid are still talking about something, and Virgo appears to have put the magazine down, resting his eyes.

>Talk to Corrigan and Solfrid.
>Talk to Virgo.
>See if Cynthia needs some help getting the vents open.
>Watch TV.
>Head up to your quarters.
>Write-in.

>>927343
>Help cynthia. Have gun.

>>927343
>>Talk to Virgo.

>>927343

>See if Cynthia needs some help getting the vents open

Something seems fishy about that vent banging

>>927343
>See if Cynthia needs some help getting the vents open.
let's do this first.

>>927343
>See if Cynthia needs some help getting the vents open.
Darn space skeletons rattling in our vents

>>927343
>>See if Cynthia needs some help getting the vents open.

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You figure that Cynthia could probably use your help, especially with using the prybar, so you decide to head down to engineering.

When you arrive, you see her struggling with the prybar, attempting to get two vent panels apart. She grunts in frustration before tossing the bar angrily to the floor.

"I thought you could use some help," you say to get her attention.

"Oh, Allen!" She yelps, having been caught off-guard. "Yeah, I don't have the upper-body strength to get these panels apart." She sighs. "I got the first joint apart, but this one is stuck. I'm pretty sure the broken fan is in that section." She points to a section of vent near the wall, beside you.

You pick up the prybar, weighing it in your hands. "I'll get 'em apart." You walk up to the joint between the vent segments, wedging the thin end into the gap and pulling toward you.

Yanking at the bar, you manage to get the vents apart with a groan of protest from the sheet metal. The vent that Cynthia already got apart falls to the floor with a loud thud.

Cynthia leans forward, looking into the vent. "Looks like this is the fan making the noise," she says simply. You step back as she reaches in and begins tinkering with the fan. "There's... Something caught in it..." She frowns, pulling on something. After about a minute, she gives up on trying to pull the obstruction out and pulls out a set of screwdrivers. "This'll get it. We'll get the whole fan out and clear the obstruction that way."

After about five minutes, she removes all of the screws and begins yanking on it. With great effort and a small flurry of dust, she yanks out the fan.

"Got it!" She holds it up to you. However, she brings it close to her and looks at the blades. "Huh," she says with puzzlement. "There's nothing there... I could've sworn I saw something." You lean in examine it, but your attention is soon averted as you see something out of the corner of your eye. Something pale. You look over Cynthia's shoulder and see a hand slowly exit the vent, followed by the arm attached to it.

"Cynthia," you say, your eyes going wide. "Get away from the vent right now." The arm gets further out of the vent, and you see the top of a head exit the vent, red eyes looking at you. She raises an eyebrow at you, clearly about to ask what's wrong. The humanoid shape emerging from the vent shows its face in its entirety, grinning widely at you as it moves its arm in an arc toward Cynthia.

Oh no.

And that's it for tonight! We'll resume tomorrow afternoon and run into the night!
On a scale of 1 to 10, how much danger do you think Cynthia is in?

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

>>927575
>spoiler
I'd say that the entire docks might be at danger if we fail to deal with it somehow. how did it get in there?

>>927575
A lot of danger. Is the strange man Eugene Victor Tooms?

>>927589
>how did it get in there?
You'll have to ask it nicely.

>>927575

I'm kinda feeling like maybe it's not hostile right off? Maybe it's a space demon that's come to cut us a swanky deal.

>>927575
I reckon it jumped out of the airlock of the wale while we were running away and got inside our ship somehow. Now it feels guilty about stowing away and is going to offer to work off its wage.

>>927575
We told you to bring a gun Allen. But you didn't listen. Why didn't you listen?

>>927608
Its some bullshit from the "disappeared" people from that Second Son malarkey? I would say from the mysterious abandoned ship but the stasis pod readings showed that while the brain activity of our mystery person was hyperactive it wasn't likely a spooky bastard who survived vacuum and got aboard (although I won't rule that out, I just though we had a clean-ish getaway, and the thrust from us skedaddling would make crossing the gap hard, disregarding the other factors.). Plus that whole second Son business just screams phase shifting person ( sci fi version of a ghost). All of this conjecture is likely horribly off but still fun regardless!

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>>927564

Told ya we needed a gun. Told ya told ya told ya. Gbye everyone! RIP Allen.

The thing- no, the man’s arm swings toward Cynthia at lightning speeds. You don’t have time to shout a warning, you don’t have time to draw your sidearm. You do the only thing you can, yanking Cynthia away from the vent-man’s arm before it can reach her. You grab her collar roughly and bring her in toward you, just in time. She slams into you and you both tumble to the floor.

“Allen!” She yelps angrily, frowning at you. However, your eyes haven’t left the man hanging half out of the vent, who is now giggling like a madman. He is pale and gaunt, with fiery red hair and matching eyes. Cynthia notices the laughing and turns around, seeing the intruder. She lets out a small scream as she backs up against the wall next to you. “Allen, there’s a man in the vents!”

“I know, Cynthia!” You yell back at her, just as surprised as she is. The man exits the vent at an unnatural angle, crawling along the wall, giggling the entire time.

“W-what’s a man doing in the vents?” She shrinks back as he crawls along the wall some more, almost like some kind of insect. However, you can see that he’s merely using the many pipes and small surfaces along the wall as hand and foot holds.

“Hell if I know!” You reply with a grunt, your eyes going wide. The man dismounts from the wall, standing to full height in front of the two of you. You instinctively whip out your service pistol, aiming at the man and firing a shot. The sound of the gun echoes in the small room, making your head hurt and your ears ring. You shake your head a little bit, looking up to see the man holding his shoulder, looking bewildered as blood begins to trickle down.

The expression on his face seems to be a mix of fear and excitement, but then it changes as he speaks for the first time. “Two years,” he says, barely above a whisper. Then it turns into a roar that fills the room. “TWO YEARS!” He yells, looking up at the ceiling, almost as if calling out to the heavens. He breathes heavily for a few seconds, gradually lowering his head again, his bright red eyes meeting yours. You feel Cynthia press up against you, shivering. “Two years without so much as hearing a voice… Without having a meal… Without seeing another soul…” He begins giggling again. “You know, I’m pretty hungry… I don’t even know what I should do first!” You notice that the blood from his wound, a graze, has already coagulated. His arm drops from the wound as he sighs with pleasure. His glazed-over eyes dart between you, Cynthia, and the door.

>Shoot him. In the head this time.
>”If I find you some food, will you calm down?” (attempt to bargain)
>”Please don’t hurt us!” (beg)
>”What the hell are you?” (question him)
>Write-in.

>>930029
>>”If I find you some food, will you calm down?” (attempt to bargain)

>>930029

>write in
>ready the gun to fire, and ask him if he gets food will he calm down

>>930029
Change>>930042

to >>930048

>>930029
>”If I find you some food, will you calm down?” (attempt to bargain)

>>930029
>”If I find you some food, will you calm down?” (attempt to bargain)

>>Get the fun ready

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>"Allen, there's a man in the vents!"
>"I know, Cynthia!"

Kekaroo hopping along right here.

Welcome back, Zap!

>>930029
>Shoot him. In the head this time.

Nope.

>>930029
>Hold him off while Cynthia goes and fetches a steak, to drive into his heart
Damn space vamps.

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>>930029
>What the hell are you

We need answers, and given how he's crazy he probably won't answer us cohesively.. But there is always the failsafe of;

>Shoot him. In the head this time

>>930029
>”What the hell are you?” (question him)
>Tell Cynthia to go fetch backup (and I don't mean the big guy)
Serious response now.

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You raise your pistol once again, grimacing and steadying yourself. Just as your finger brushes the trigger and you prepare to fire, you remember him mentioning being hungry. “Hey,” you call out to him. “You said you were hungry. If I get you some food, will you calm down?”

The man’s manic grin disappears, replaced instead by a puzzled expression. You watch as his eyes go from a bright, almost glowing, red to a normal shade of light brown. He chuckles a little bit to himself. “You know, that’d be lovely.”

You sit across from the man as he scarfs down a plate of scrambled eggs. It takes him less than a minute to finish the plate, after which he slams the glass of water that you gave him. He sighs loudly and contentedly as he sits his glass down. You glance over to the doorway to the engineering room, where Tom and Cynthia stand uneasily. Tom holds a rifle in his hands as Cynthia explains the situation to him. When you had sent Cynthia upstairs to get the food, you had told her to say that the two loud bangs were the compression coils revving down. Everyone but Tom had believed her, apparently.

“Ah…” The man sitting across from you grins. “I feel alive again!” He sits the plate down and rubs his eyes. “You wouldn’t believe how nice it is to not be in that vent anymore.”

“I can imagine…” You frown. The man has an extra mechanic’s jumper on, he was naked when he jumped from the vent, and you notice a scar that starts at his Adam’s apple and goes down to somewhere below the collar of the jumpsuit. You figure that you just hadn’t noticed it when you were trying to not die.

“Start talking,” Tom’s voice gets your attention. He has stepped into the room, keeping his rifle low, but ready. “How did you end up in our vents?”

The man narrows his eyes at Tom before inhaling through his nose sharply. “Hmm… You’re a Marine…” He frowns. “No… You were one at some point though.” He smiles. “I guess I shouldn’t be facetious with you then.” He puts a hand on his chest. “I am called Albatross. I was the original occupant of that long box you found aboard what was once the FNV Wales.”

>”That’s not possible. You would’ve starved to death with the rest of the crew.”
>”Cynthia, could you head upstairs while Tom and I talk to Mr. Albatross here?”
>”Did you kill the crew of the Wales?”
>”What the hell happened aboard that ship?”
>"What's up with that scar?"
>Write-in.

>>930273
>”That’s not possible. You would’ve starved to death with the rest of the crew.”
>"Why were you in the long box?"
>”What the hell happened aboard that ship?”

>>930273
>>”What the hell happened aboard that ship?”

>>930273
>>”That’s not possible. You would’ve starved to death with the rest of the crew.”
>”Did you kill the crew of the Wales?”
>”What the hell happened aboard that ship?”
>You're not a normal human are you?

>>930285

These sounds reasonable

Seconding.

Though I'm still in favour of shooting him in the head at the first sign of more trouble.

>>930273
>How the fugg did you get onto this ship?
>Actually, how about you just start from the beginning.

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“Wait,” you begin. “That’s not possible. You would’ve starved to death like the rest of the crew.”

Albatross shrugs, chuckling a little bit. “I mean, that’s not an unreasonable assumption to make…” He raises an eyebrow at you. “But you can’t make reasonable assumptions when dealing with unreasonable circumstances,” he narrows his eyes. “And my circumstances are exceedingly unreasonable.” He smirks. “But that’s about all I can say about it without the possibility of something bad happening to this ship.”

“Are you threatening us?” Tom practically growls at the man.

“Of course not,” he replies with incredulity. “But what I am saying is that if people know that you know me, things could get bad for you. Especially if they find out that I’m no longer aboard the Wales.”

“So why were you even in the long box?” You decide to steer the conversation away from the matter of Albatross clearly not being a regular human.

“I was being securely transported,” he says bluntly. “My handler was supposed to pick me up when I arrived at my destination, but that never happened on account of the Wales being attacked and all.”

“So the Wales was attacked…” Tom nods. “I figured that there was some kind of mutiny or something.”

“Mutiny?” Albatross grins with amusement. “Hardly. As far as I could tell, the crew of that ship loved their captain. And they didn’t question the authority of his replacement either…” He sighs. “At least, not until they started to starve and he begged them not to cannibalize the corpses.”

“So then what actually happened to the Wales?” You lean forward, trying to keep him focused.

“Well I woke up after the engines were disabled, so everything I heard about the time before that is hearsay.” He frowns. “But apparently they were attacked by an Imperial auto-missile that disabled their engines… But then someone else attacked them almost immediately after I woke up. I threw some random crewmember in the long box so that it would look like I was still there. That way if they were searching for me, I could escape.” He laughs. “I don’t think they cared about me though, since they only took the gold.”

“Who were they?” Tom lights a cigarette as he asks his question.

“First off,” Albatross says, unamused. “You shouldn’t smoke, it’ll kill you.” He sees that Tom has no intention of putting the cigarette out, and sighs. “Whatever, it’s your health. Anyway, the people who breached the cargo hold were definitely military, not some two-bit pirates.” He leans forward, grinning widely. “But here’s the real catch: they didn’t speak the Russo-Dutch dialect of the Imperials. They spoke English.”

“What?” Tom’s eyes go wide.

“And it gets even juicer,” Albatross continues. “They were the ones that disabled the Wales’ communications equipment. They left them stranded on purpose.”

>”So how did you get from the wreck to our ship? You couldn’t have sneaked aboard through the airlock.”
>”Were you the one listening in on our radio conversations?”
>”Then who did you put in the long box?”
>Write-in.

>>930506
>>”Were you the one listening in on our radio conversations?”

>>930506
>>”So how did you get from the wreck to our ship? You couldn’t have sneaked aboard through the airlock.”
>”Were you the one listening in on our radio conversations?”

>>930506

>”So how did you get from the wreck to our ship? You couldn’t have sneaked aboard through the airlock.”
>”Were you the one listening in on our radio conversations?”

>>930506
>”Were you the one listening in on our radio conversations?”

>>930506
>”So how did you get from the wreck to our ship? You couldn’t have sneaked aboard through the airlock.”
So they heard the ship was disabled, managed to keep the news from getting out while plundering it and disabling comms. They should have just blowed it up really.

“Were you the one listening in on our radio conversations then?” You cross your arms.

“Oh, that?” Albatross grins sheepishly. “Well… When you’re trapped aboard a derelict starship for two years and someone shows up with a working ship, it’s very tempting to hitch a ride.”

“How did you even listen in on our communications anyway?” Tom speaks up next.

“Trade secret,” Albatross replies seriously.

“Okay…” You sigh, rubbing the bridge of your nose. “And how did you even get aboard? The airlocks were closed and locked for most of the time we were there.”

Albatross seems to lose control of himself, laughing loud enough to shake the walls. “You really think the only access to your ship was through the airlock? I may not be an expert when it comes to Oberons, but I still know enough to be dangerous.” He points to the vent that he called home until a few minutes ago. “Case in point. My infiltration would’ve been a complete success if not for waking up rather rough a couple nights ago and slamming my head into the top of the vent.”

“That doesn’t explain all the other noises coming from the vents,” Cynthia calls out.

“Oh,” Albatross remarks. “Yeah, those were rats. I think I scared them off.”

Cynthia shrugs. “Huh. Thanks, I guess.”

“Of course,” he bows slightly, grinning.

>”So what are you going to do now that you’re off of the Wales?”
>”Who did you put in the long box?”
>”I take it that you’re aware the War is over?”
>Write-in.

>>930763
>”Who did you put in the long box?”
>”I take it that you’re aware the War is over?”

>>930763
>>”Who did you put in the long box?”
>”I take it that you’re aware the War is over?”

>>930763
>”I take it that you’re aware the War is over?”
>”So what are you going to do now that you’re off of the Wales?”
This guy is obviously not gonna give us anything interesting. We should just shoot him.
We do have space rats! FFS Tripe, you had one job!

>>930763
>>”Who did you put in the long box?”
>”I take it that you’re aware the War is over?”

>>930763

>”So what are you going to do now that you’re off of the Wales?”
>”Who did you put in the long box?”
>”I take it that you’re aware the War is over?”

>>930786

He seems to be well knowledged and has decent rouge-ish skills (hence the successful B&E aside from banging his head, and also getting away from that wreckage unnoticed). Maybe put him to work if he wants to continue staying on the ship? I doubt the people at the dock would take too kindly to a red eyed pale space vampire thing.

“You’re aware that the War is over, right?” You raise an eyebrow at Albatross.

For probably the first time, you see what looks like a look of uncertainty on his face. “I am,” he begins. “I’ve overheard the television in your Wardroom. Though I don’t know much about the circumstances of the War’s end. I assume we won?”

“Not quite,” Tom replies. “There was an armistice treaty. It got signed about ten days after the Wales was disabled.”

“I see,” he smiles now. “That’s actually quite good. It means I’ve dodged a bullet.” He chuckles. “They almost certainly planned to liquidate me once the War ended. I heard talk of it being planned. They considered me too much of a risk for a peacetime military.” He says the last part in a tone that makes you think he’s mocking someone who said the exact words to him.

“And why shouldn’t we assume the same thing about you?” Tom grips his rifle a little bit tighter. “As far as I’m concerned, you’re too dangerous to be kept around…”

Albatross sighs, his eyes narrowing. “I could’ve killed everyone on this ship, then flown it to wherever I wanted. I had the chance to do it several times…” He grins. “But I didn’t do that, did I?”

Tom seems to be at a loss for words. You decide to shift the conversation away once again. “Albatross,” you get his attention. “You probably already know we took the long box as well.” He nods at this. “Who is in the box now?”

Albatross shrugs. “They sent some random sailor to check on the cargo,” he says with no emotion. “The shock of the ship being attacked caused the stasis field to disengage. I waited for her to approach the box, and I locked her in and engaged the field.” He frowns. “Then I snuck into a vent and hid aboard the Wales, watching as things began to go sideways.” He sighs. “I probably should’ve killed the commandos who attacked the ship before they disabled the radios. I could’ve called for help that way.”

“So what are you going to do now?” You raise your eyebrows at the man. “I mean, the War’s over and you’re free of the Wales. Do you have some kind of master plan?”

“Overthrow the Federal Assembly and become king,” he says with a straight face. You almost believe him for a moment before he continues. “Kidding,” he grins. “I honestly don’t know. Probably try to work my way back to Earth. Maybe do the whole ‘house with a white picket fence, wife, and two kids’ thing.” He shrugs. “Or maybe I’ll just become a drifter. I really don’t know yet. I’ve never had freedom before.” He grins. “Feels kind of nice. I could do whatever I want.”

>”Well whatever you do, do it somewhere that isn’t my ship.”
>”Good luck with your plans, I guess.”
>”You know, someone with your skills could be pretty useful in my crew.”
>”We’re in an Imperial port right now. It might be difficult for you to get back to Earth.”
>Write-in.

>>931026
>>”We’re in an Imperial port right now. It might be difficult for you to get back to Earth.”
>”You know, someone with your skills could be pretty useful in my crew.”

>>931026

>”We’re in an Imperial port right now. It might be difficult for you to get back to Earth
>”You know, someone with your skills could be pretty useful in my crew.”

>>931026
>>”We’re in an Imperial port right now. It might be difficult for you to get back to Earth.”

>>931026
>”We’re in an Imperial port right now. It might be difficult for you to get back to Earth.”
Do we need this guy? He might be more useful to Blackheart...

>>931026
>>”We’re in an Imperial port right now. It might be difficult for you to get back to Earth.”
You know guys, we never asked him why the Wales was carrying gold

>>931077
>we never asked him why the Wales was carrying gold
You could still ask him right now if you want.

>>931061

More the merrier?

>>931085

>Hey, Albatross, why was the Wales carrying gold in the first place?

>>931125
Supporting the why gold question.

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“We’re in an Imperial port right now,” you say. “It’s going to be somewhat difficult to get back to Earth from here.”

Albatross smirks at you. “You may be right. However, I’m sure I’ll find some way to make it.”

You nod at him, considering your next words somewhat more carefully than you would for most people. “You know,” you begin. “We could use someone with your skills aboard.”

Albatross makes eye contact with you for a moment, then looks away and smirks. “You’re probably right,” he says with a nod. “But I’m not really sure if I want to go right back to working under a chain of command.” He smiles apologetically. “No offense.”

“None taken,” you reply with a bit of hesitation. For a moment, you’re at a loss of what to say from that point on. However, a thought crosses your mind. “Though, I do have another question.”

“Ask away,” he replies casually.

“Do you know why the gold was aboard the Wales?”

Albatross chuckles. “Found the Engineer’s stash, didn’t you?” He shakes his head. “I don’t know much beyond what I was able to overhear from the Chief Engineer. But apparently he stole it from the Federal Treasury itself. If I had to guess, I’d have to say that he probably got the Captain in on it somehow. The Treasury Department probably sent those goons to get the gold back.” He grins. “But the Engineer figured that someone would try to get it back, so he hid some of it back in his office.”

“That explains a lot,” Tom nods. “But still, it doesn’t explain who those guys were. The damn Treasury Department doesn’t have commandos on their payroll.”

Albatross laughs at Tom’s statement. “The Treasury Department has everyone on their payroll!” He leans forward. “Those people can get anything they want if they put enough pressure on people.”

>”Well I guess we can’t keep you here then.”
>”We can’t just let you out into an Imperial station right now. Stay aboard until we get back to the inner Solar System.”
>”So the Engineer stole the gold. What were they planning on doing with it?”
>Write-in.

>>931309
>”So the Engineer stole the gold. What were they planning on doing with it?”

>>931309
>>”So the Engineer stole the gold. What were they planning on doing with it?”

>>931309
>>”So the Engineer stole the gold. What were they planning on doing with it?”

>>931309

>”So the Engineer stole the gold. What were they planning on doing with it?”

>>931309
>”We can’t just let you out into an Imperial station right now. Stay aboard until we get back to the inner Solar System.”
He might be useful on New Albany if we get in a scrap.
What are we going to do about the random crew member? I'm sure her family will be glad to know she is still alive. She might want to get off in Imperial space seeing as their ship was doing a runner.

>>931350
Let her out, explain the situation, drop her off at some discrete location in Federation space. Though her being released would maybe send the Feds after us for plundering the Wales, make them send someone to ask us questions about Albatross.

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“So the Engineer stole the gold,” you begin. “But what were they even planning on doing with it once they stole it?”

Albatross rubs the bridge of his nose before continuing. “I’m not a hundred percent sure, but it would make sense for them to try and defect with it.” He shrugs. “Though I don’t think any of the crew knew about it. It was probably just the Captain, Chief Engineer, and maybe the First Officer.”

“I think we’re starting to see the full picture here,” Tom adds. “So the Wales set out for wherever it was supposed to go, but the Engineer had conspired with the Captain to defect with the stolen gold. They ended up being disabled by something totally unrelated to the gold, and some commandos came aboard, took the gold, and disabled the ship’s comms.” He frowns, deep in thought.

Cynthia is the next to speak up, however. “I thought you guys said you found a derelict freighter and went aboard to look for survivors,” she grumbles.

Tom sighs, looking at you, then at her. “It sounded a lot better than saying that we found a war wreck.” He grimaces as he says it.

“Ooh,” Albatross grins. “The Captain and First Officer are keeping things from their crew.” He giggles a little bit. “I don’t see this ending well.”

“Look,” you try to defuse the situation. “We couldn’t tell the truth because of the passengers. If they had found out, they’d probably tell the authorities.”

Cynthia merely grumbles, looking away as she leans against the doorway.

“Well, captain,” Albatross smiles at you, raising an eyebrow. “As homey as this ship is, I’d really like to leave and do my own thing. Assuming I don’t have a debt to pay off for being transported all this way.”

>”I’m not going to stop you. You’re free to go.”
>”You should stay aboard for now. We can drop you off in the Inner Solar System when we swing back around there.”
>Write-in.

>>931520
>>”I’m not going to stop you. You’re free to go.”

>>931520

>write
>"Just one last question, as payment for the free ride. You mentioned you were going to be "liquidated" once the war is over. Does that have anything to do with how you managed to live with no food for so long?"

>>931520
>”I’m not going to stop you. You’re free to go.”

>>931539
this

>>931539
I'm hesitant to have any interaction with Mr.Albatross and am willing to take him on his word that any information he shares with us can bite us in the ass. Oh and also forgot to say
>>931564
>"Sorry for shooting you, although I'm sure you can understand given the circumstances."

>>931582

True. If the military learns we know the secret of his longevity they may target us. Then again, I doubt Albatross would randomly tell them that he spilled the beans to someone that helped him.

>>931520
>>”I’m not going to stop you. You’re free to go.”

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“Well before I do, I have one last question,” you say.

“Fair enough,” Albatross smirks.

“You mentioned that your superiors were going to liquidate you at the end of the War, what exactly does that mean?”

Albatross frowns, seemingly shrinking back a little. “It means exactly what it sounds like. They’d kill me.” He sighs. “I’m not the Terminator, you know. I just don’t die as easy as most people.” He looks at you with an expression you can’t quite place. It isn’t fear, but more of a morbid certainty. “With the kind of people my superiors are, they’d have no trouble at all with killing me. In fact, they had a system in place specifically for it.” He sighs. “And that’s all I’m going to say about the subject.”

“Fair enough,” you reply. “I suppose I can’t ask something like that to you and expect a clean answer when the truth is so dangerous.”

“Now you get the picture,” he smiles. “Anyway. I appreciate you giving me a meal and some threads to wear.”

“Of course,” you reply. “And sorry for shooting you, by the way.”

Albatross grins at you, unzipping the jumper partway and showing you his shoulder, which doesn’t even have a mark on it anymore. “What do you mean? You never shot me.” He chuckles as he covers himself back up again.

“Either way,” you reply slowly, processing the fact that the damn hole in his shoulder is gone. “You’re free to leave whenever you feel like it.”

“And you can keep the coveralls,” Cynthia says. “We’ve got like twenty spares.”

“Well thanks,” Albatross nods.

Cynthia, Tom, and you all stand at the edge of the cargo ramp as the strange, red-haired man leaves your ship. He waves at all of you as he steps out onto the main deck of the hangars, walking toward a large group of people boarding a small passenger carrier. You don’t know much about him other than that he’s almost impossible to kill, sneakier than anyone you’ve met, and he’s surprisingly sociable. However, as he disappears into the crowds of McArthur Station, a part of you keeps telling yourself that you haven’t seen the last of the man named Albatross.

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And that's it for Episode 8! With things calming down for a while, I should be able to run more consistently and put out more per update. The plan is to put up Episode 9 on Thursday afternoon. As always, questions comments, concerns, and criticisms are welcome, and I'll try to answer anything that isn't too spoilery.

What do you think Albatross is going to do now?

Mood Music:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y_u_h-f7IK0

>>931654

>lives for a long time with no food or water
>heals extremely fast

Some sort of super soldier perhaps?

>>931662

Probably chill for a little before doing some recon. He's 2 years out of the loop on his so called liquidators.

>>931662
Albatross is going to do some Jason Bourne type stuff

>>931662
I don't know what he'll do now, but I have a guess as to why the Wales was sent on it's mission in the first place:

So Albatross could assassinate the Empress.

>>930763
So the air ducts on this ship can be opened directly to space without any kind of alert? We're dead men flying, people. One crack in the vents and it's over.

>>931782
I know right. They are called airlocks for a reason, the ship is supposed to be sealed up tight.

>>931662
He is gonna put on a ragged cape and be a big damn hero.

>>931662
>What do you think Albatross is going to do now?
Become a train conductor.

>>931782
>So the air ducts on this ship can be opened directly to space without any kind of alert?
No. The ducts themselves are a closed system. They don't touch the outer hull at all.
Albatross got aboard the ship before hiding in the vents. Let's just say that getting aboard in the first place was exceedingly difficult and painful, even for him.

>>932352
He still managed to do it circumventing the arilock, which means we have a potential weak spot on the pressure hull

>>932363
Maybe.

>>932352

Is he an octopus

>>932634
Given he heals really easy, he probably broke a limb or dislocated them to contort to fit in easier. It's a thing some people can do to fit into tight spaces but it fucking hurts and probably does long-term damage but...Well, probably not for him!

>>935672
Tight spaces isn't the problem. The problem is how did he get inside the airtight hull. Without draining all the air into the vacuum even.

We seriously should have asked him how he got inside. There should be a hole there now.

>>935789
I wonder if shipyards have scanners for checking ships. For refitting and repairs and stuff. Or just walk on the ship to check the topside. If there is any way to check things like that, we should try it.

>>935852
The simplest way is to pump the ship full of smoke.

>>935853
Although I get what you intend to do, but the cleaning afterwards is going to be a pain.

I wouldn't object to that however, if other methods are ineffective.

>>935852
>>935853
>>935860
Before doing anything drastic like that, you could just ask your chief engineer if there's a way someone could've gotten in. It's her job to know things like that.

>>935853
If we used a good enough gass for fumigation it might get rid of the space rats too.

New thread is up!
>>942502
>>942502
>>942502