You exit your quarters with a sigh, raising an eyebrow. There are sounds of an argument coming from somewhere downstairs. Not a yelling argument necessarily, but you can tell by the tone of both voices that it isn’t far from it.

Descending into the crew decks, you begin to hear the actual substance of the conversation, recognizing the voices as well.

“I don’t want to hear it,” Tom says bitterly. You can tell by the dismissive tone he’s taking that he expects to lose the argument.

“All I’m saying is that you should’ve listened to me!” An insistent female voice responds almost instantly. You realize that it is Samantha Brooks, the sole surviving crew member of the Wales.

“Oh yeah?” If you had to guess, you’d say Tom has his arms crossed and a scowl on his face. “So you’re saying we should’ve just gone onto someone else’s property with guns blazing, on a planet in the midst of a civil war I might add, because you had a hunch?”

“T-that’s not what I’m saying at all!” She’s clearly riled up. “I was certain that something was off about that place, but you didn’t even listen to me.”

“We had conflicting information,” Tom sighs. “An eyewitness’s information at that. You only had a hunch.”

You step into the wardroom to see Samantha leaning toward Tom, looking angrier than you’d thought possible, while Tom scowls dismissively at her, arms crossed.

They notice you as you sigh, stepping into the Wardroom. “Captain,” Tom nods. Both of them step back from each other, looking a little bit embarrassed to be caught almost shouting at each other.

>”What’s this all about?”
>”Both of you, cut it out.”
>”Tom, you shouldn’t go picking fights with someone we just rescued. We’re trying to make her feel welcomed here.”
>”Miss Brooks, you’re here on my permission. Picking fights with my crew is a good way to strain that.”
>Write-in.

>>1092121
>”What’s this all about?”
>"But slowly and at medium loudness please. And no interrupting each other."

>>1092121
>”What’s this all about?”
>"But slowly and at medium loudness please. And no interrupting each other."

>>1092121
>>1092171
>>1092201
I'll be the third wheel then.

“Alright…” You rub the bridge of your nose tiredly. “What’s this all about?” They both go to start in at the same time, only for you to hold a hand up. “Explain it at medium volume, and without interrupting each other.”

Tom sighs, looking over at Samantha with a frown. “You can go first…”

Samantha nods slightly, then crosses her arms. “Well, Captain…” She trails off. “On the night when you went to that party, I was monitoring communications just like you said.” She points to the table. “I was sitting right there monitoring everything. Anyway, I noticed from the beginning that there was something strange about that mansion…”

“Strange how?” You raise an eyebrow.

“There were no incoming or outgoing communications of any kind. Radio, cellular, high-gain… Nothing.” She frowns. “I mentioned it pretty early on in the evening, but Lt. McMurdo said it wasn’t anything to be worried about.”

He looks at you with a sigh. “Well sir, it’s not out of the realm of possibility for a mansion to be off the grid, you know how weird those rich types are.” He shrugs. “At the time, it didn’t seem like much.”

“That’s what I thought too,” Samantha says with a nod. “But when Cynthia came back here with the police and told us that you were missing, the lack of comms raised a red flag for me.”

You nod. “That’s understandable.”

Tom shakes his head. “But there was an eyewitness report of you getting into a strange car near the end of the evening,” he says with finality. “We were under the impression that you had either gone on a bender somewhere in town, or been kidnapped and taken away from the mansion.” He grumbles at Samantha. “Just because she had a hunch you might be there didn’t mean we could kick the doors down and raid the place.”

“I wasn’t saying that you had to do that,” she frowns. “Just that you should’ve considered the possibility of the Captain being there!”

>”Both of you, cut it out.”
>”That was good thinking on your part, Samantha.” (side with Samantha)
>”I can understand why you didn’t go to the mansion, Tom. There wasn’t any substantial evidence.” (side with Tom)
>Write-in.

>>1092310
>"Well just considering the possibility isn't unreasonable. The ifs don't matter now though, so there's no point in arguing over it."

>>1092310
For the record the eye witness was the perpetrator herself, whose corpse somehow got up after I performed a lombotomy via shotgun. Tom you were right not to jump to conclusions, but next time there's a comma black out keep an eye out. Sam good eye and gut.

>>1092310
>>1092345
This

File: Tom 1.jpg (20 KB, 400x300)

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“Well, the eyewitness was the perpetrator herself,” you begin. “Who supposedly walked away after I shot her in the face…”

“What?” Tom raises an eyebrow.

“A story for another time,” you continue. “Anyway, you were right to not jump to conclusions. But next time there’s a comms black out, just try to keep an eye out.”

“Yes sir,” Tom nods with a sigh.

“And Sam?” You look over at her. “Good instincts. You made the right call to bring it up, even if there wasn’t anything going on. I would’ve been suspicious about it too.”

“Thanks, sir,” she nods sheepishly.

You sigh. “Still, what’s done is done. There’s no point in arguing about all of this.” You raise your eyebrows at both of them. “Okay?”

“Okay,” they both nod. You stand back as Samantha returns to her quarters, leaving you and Tom in the wardroom.

“You hungry, sir?” He gestures to the kitchen. “I can cook something up in a couple minutes.

You are about to protest when your stomach growls loudly. You shrug at him. “Sure, I’ll eat.”

You go sit down as Tom goes back into the kitchen and begins cooking something. S few minutes later, he returns to the wardroom with a plate of… Bell peppers?

“Uh, Tom?” You gesture to the plate as he sits it down.

He grins. “My famous bell peppers and beef.” He then chuckles apologetically. “Unfortunately, we’re out of beef, so it’s just fried bell peppers.” He lights a cigarette, taking a long drag.

“Fair enough,” you dig into the food hungrily. Within about half a minute, you’ve finished most of the plate.

“So Captain,” Tom begins with a frown. “What the hell happened anyway? It’s been almost an entire day since you got back and you still look like shit.”

>”I don’t feel like talking about it.”
>”Fine, but it’s a weird story.” (tell Tom what happened)
>”Get the crew in here. I’m giving everyone a debrief.” (tell the whole crew)
>Write-in.

>>1092568
>”Get the crew in here. I’m giving everyone a debrief.” (tell the whole crew)

>>1092568
>”Get the crew in here. I’m giving everyone a debrief.” (tell the whole crew)

>>1092568
>>”Get the crew in here. I’m giving everyone a debrief.” (tell the whole crew)

>>1092568
>”Get the crew in here. I’m giving everyone a debrief.” (tell the whole crew)

File: Solfrid1.jpg (27 KB, 225x350)

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You sigh, finishing your meal. “Get the rest of the crew. I’ll debrief everyone myself.”

Tom nods, then walks toward the crew staterooms. You put your plate away as crew begin to file into the wardroom one at a time. Eventually, everyone is present, looking at you as you stand in the middle of the room.

“So I’m sure you’re all curious about what happened to me over the past week and a half,” you begin. “First off, it’s a very strange story.” You sigh, rubbing your eyes. “It started when myself and Cynthia went to that party. For most of the evening, everything was pretty normal.”

“So Miss Brooks was right,” Virgo says from his seat near the corner, nodding.

“She’s got good instincts,” you reply. “Anyway, I drank some of the booze they had there, thankfully Cynthia didn’t, because it was laced with some kind of nanomachines that can control a person’s body. As soon as I stepped away from the table to do something, I was doomed. Long story short, I woke up some time later in a research facility underneath the mansion.”

“Research facility?” Tom raises his eyebrows.

“Dr. Sofia was a genetic engineer,” you reply. “Her end-game, as far as I can tell, was to control everyone against their will. She conducted some experiments on me, and very nearly killed me.” You grimace. “But her assistant had a change of heart, and helped me get free. We escaped through a tunnel that led to the mansion, and Sofia caught us.” You grin just a tiny bit. “Thankfully, I had a shotgun. In the ensuing fight, some flammable things caught fire, and the mansion burned to the ground. Me and the assistant escaped, and were picked up by the Marines.”

“Sir,” Tom speaks up again. “You mentioned earlier that Sofia supposedly walked away after you shot her in the head…” A couple of the crew look at him, then at you.

“Well,” you sigh. “I did shoot her in the head, with a shotgun no less, but the Marine officer who searched the mansion’s wreckage said that the only bodies there belonged to her soldiers.”

“That’s not good,” Virgo says bluntly. “It either means that someone took the body for a specific reason, or…” He trails off. “Well, I don’t want to think what else it could mean.”

“So what happens now?” Solfrid speaks up, uncharacteristically serious. “There are bound to be things we aren’t aware of surrounding this situation. If this Dr. Sofia had a research lab and the facilities to build nanotech, it would mean that she probably had other connections too.”

>Write-in.

>>1092722
Well We're going to head on a trip to virgo's homeworld. In the Interim I'll talk to my freidns and contacts about her and hers. see what they dig up.

>>1092722

"We get back to business, we need to head to Virgo's homeworld. Thank all of you for the concern and the efforts over this last week and a half. I should've been more wary."

>>1092722
What they said, back to business. IIRC her (fake?) company did work for the military, maybe Sammy the spook will be able to find something out.

You shrug. “Not much we can do other than get back to business,” you say bluntly. “Our first destination once we get out of here is Thalos, Virgo’s home planet.”

At the mention of this, Virgo’s eyes widen just a little bit, then he nods at you thankfully. You look at the other members of the crew, who mostly look somewhat confused.

“Anyway,” you continue. “Regarding Dr. Sofia and any connections she might’ve had, there’s not a whole lot I can do about it at the moment. I’ll ask some well-connected friends, but there’s no guarantee that we’ll be able to find the bottom of this rabbit hole any time soon.” You frown. “All I know for sure is that she had a fake company that was apparently known to have contracts with the Federal Navy. Could just be false information though.”

“Right,” Solfrid nods, still very serious.

Corrigan raises her eyebrows. “I have never heard of this planet Thalos,” she says quietly. “Is it far away?”

Virgo frowns, crossing his arms. “If my math is right, it’s about five to eight days’ worth of FTL travel from here.”

Tom looks at Virgo, then at you. “So I guess I’ll need to take stock of our provisions then, make sure we’ve got enough for the trip.” He grumbles. “Also, sir, I should mention that we had to pay port fees the entire time we were here looking for you.”

You grimace. “What’s the damage?”

He sighs. “Well, after we got everything from the Wales sold off, we had a little over 75,000 Standards…” He grimaces. “Staying here for over a week cut us down to 40,000.”

“T-that’s over half of what we had!” Your eyes go wide.

“Port fees ain’t cheap, Captain,” Tom says guiltily. “Still, 40,000 Standards isn’t bad at all. 20,000 more and we can refit our propulsion systems, maybe even upgrade the ship entirely.”

“I guess we should try to find some cargo contracts here on New Albany then,” you frown.

“Not going to happen,” Tom sighs. “Legally anyway. The customs office here is closed to outgoing cargo. I checked this morning.”

>”Then we’ll head out as soon as we take stock of our provisions.”
>”What about acquiring cargo less-than legally?”
>”I have some things to do planetside today. We’ll leave once I get back.”
>Write-in.

>>1093153
>”Then we’ll head out as soon as we take stock of our provisions.”

>>1093153
>>”Then we’ll head out as soon as we take stock of our provisions.”

>>1093153
>”Then we’ll head out as soon as we take stock of our provisions.”

>>1093153
I'm guessing there is no tourism industry on Thalos.

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I know the session has been short, but I'm going to call it here so that I can finish up some chores tonight.

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

>>1093341
Thanks for running Zap.

>>1093341

Thanks for running

>>1093341
Aw, darn, and here I finally finished reading through the archives.

>>1093153

>"What about a speculative cargo? Virgo, what would sell well on your planet? Emtertainment? Foodstuffs, maybe liquor?"

Hey guys. I hate to do it, but I'm going to postpone the session until tomorrow afternoon. Some things came up that I've got to take care of.

Uhh weren't we going g to check the shipyards here for Oberon parts? I remember specifically a defense turret and other stuff was mentioned to be here

>>1093153
>>Write-in.
Check the local parts shops, we originally set our voyage this way for the shipyards here

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“Then we’ll head out as soon as we take stock of our provisions,” you nod. “Shouldn’t take long, right?”

Tom nods at you. “Assuming we don’t need to get provisions first. I’ll head over to our dry storage room and check right now.” With that, he leaves the wardroom. The rest of your crew begin to file out after he leaves, many of them sparing you worried glances as they go. Cynthia, however, stays behind.

“Allen,” she says as she walks up to you. “How are you holding up?”

You cross your arms, nodding a little bit. “As well as I can be I guess,” you reply.

She nods as well, grimacing a little. “I was doing some maintenance up on the bridge last night… You were talking in your sleep I think. Having nightmares?”

“Not any that I could remember,” you reply honestly.

She shrugs. “Well I guess it’s nothing to worry about then. Anyway, I just remembered something that could be worth checking out.” She produces an old photo of what looks like a starship boneyard. Hundreds of smallish starships lined up in rows, covered in white tarps. “Remember that old Federal Navy boneyard here? I guess it’s outside of the combat areas. Maybe an hours’ drive from here. Could be worth investigating if you have to get out before we leave.”

“Anything specific we need?”

She frowns a little. “Well, having a defensive turret would be nice, not to mention the fact that we need to replace some busted-out gauges in the bridge. I think it’d be good to have some spare parts laying around anyway.”

>”I’ll have to ask Tom after he gets done taking inventory.”
>”There are sure to be boneyards on other planets. I don’t want to stay around here too long.”
>”Alright. We’ll head out as soon as I get ready.”
>Write-in.

>>1099470
>”Alright. We’ll head out as soon as I get ready.”

>>1099470
>”I’ll have to ask Tom after he gets done taking inventory.”

>>1099470
>>”Alright. We’ll head out as soon as I get ready.”

>>1099470
>>”Alright. We’ll head out as soon as I get ready.”

“We’ll head out as soon as I get ready. Go ahead and tell everyone we’re leaving.”

“Right,” Cynthia nods as you head up to your quarters. As you open the door to your stateroom, you see that Tripe is snoring loudly on your bunk. Must’ve come up here when you weren’t looking.

You put your cargo pants and combat boots on, throwing an old field jacket over your t-shirt. No reason to dress nice if you’re going to be looking through derelict starships, you figure. You take a little canteen with you, filling it with water from the sink. Climbing around in old starship hulks can be exhausting, so you figure that you should bring some water with you. You then grab the truck keys and communicator off of your coffee table. Finally, you tuck your service pistol into your holster, stuffing two spare magazines into your pocket.

You put your sunglasses in your pocket and throw an old baseball cap on as you head downstairs. When you arrive in the wardroom, you see Cynthia talking with Virgo and Tom.

Tom is the first to look over and see you as you enter the room. “Captain,” he says with a frown. “You sure you want to make another outing on this planet? You got kidnapped last time.”

“I’ll be more careful this time,” you assure him. “You ready?” You look over at Cynthia.

“Of course,” she nods. “We taking that old truck?”

You pull the keys out of your pocket, showing them to her. “That’s the plan.”

“Alright then, let’s head down to the cargo hold.” Cynthia begins heading downstairs, and you wave to Tom and Virgo as you follow her.

The two of you walk up to the truck and Cynthia sighs, lifting the hood and looking at the engine. “I managed to get the fuel injection system working a little bit better while you were gone. Try starting it.”

You sit in the driver’s seat and turn the key, grinning as the vehicle rumbles to life with much less trouble than before. “Nice,” you nod as Cynthia shuts the hood and walks over to the passenger side of the vehicle.

She sits next to you, closing the door as the cargo ramp opens in front of you. You squint at the sunlight outside, putting your sunglasses on.

You shift into first gear and take off down the ramp slowly, pulling out onto the road leading away from the docks.

“You know, you look more like a farmer than a spacer right now,” Cynthia chuckles as you turn onto the main road.

You smirk at her, chuckling as well. “Whatever,” you reply. “Anyway, I need directions to this boneyard.”

“Just get onto the highway, then head north. I’ll tell you when to turn off onto the side roads.”

“Fair enough,” you reply as you turn onto the road leading to the highway.

>Make conversation with Cynthia. (specify topic)
>Turn on the radio.
>Drive in silence.
>Write-in.

>>1099814
>Turn on the radio
>Make conversation with Cynthia. (specify topic)
What was I mumbling in my sleep?

>>1099814
>Turn on the radio.
>Make conversation with Cynthia. What does she think we should do with Samantha?

>>1099838
This

File: Highway.jpg (1.19 MB, 2592x1944)

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You reach down and turn on the radio, frowning as you work the knob and try to tune in to a station. You get nothing but static at first, but then some music begins to crackle over the old speakers. You roll down your window as you speed up.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x09DgP-tr9U

You grin a little, bobbing your head with the rhythm as you pull onto the highway. There are surprisingly few cars of any kind out today. You see a few transport trucks and industrial vehicles, but nothing else.

You shift into the vehicle’s highest gear, seeing how fast it can go on the mostly-empty highway. And it tops out at around 75 miles per hour. You sigh, unimpressed.

“So Cynthia,” you begin. “What’s your take on Samantha’s situation?”

“Beg your pardon?” Cynthia raises an eyebrow at you.

“I mean, what should we do with her?”

Cynthia frowns, thoughtful. “I’m not really sure. She probably has family back on Earth, so I definitely think we should ask her if she wants to go see them. Other than that, I’m not really sure.” She shrugs. “She could be a good addition to the crew too. She’s certainly got a good head on her shoulders. Pretty much as soon as you were declared missing, she was suggesting that we snoop around Dr. Sofia’s place.”

“Did anyone else think the same thing?” You scrunch your nose as you pass a garbage truck.

“Virgo thought it was worth checking out. Everyone else was kind of up in the air about it.” She frowns. “For the first couple of days, it seemed like the police had some good leads, so we mostly put our faith in them.”

“Fair enough,” you nod. You then think back to earlier, when she mentioned you talking in your sleep, apparently loud enough to be heard in the bridge. “So what was I saying in my sleep anyway?”

Cynthia looks away, rolling down her window and inhaling as the wind blows past. “You were saying things about that Linda person again,” she finally says. Then she looks back at you, a concerned expression on her face. “Were you two close?”

>”Very.”
>”Does it matter?” (dodge the question)
>”We worked together. That’s it.”
>Write-in.

>>1100138
>>”Very.”
>"Once. She was there too Cynthia."

>>1100138
>”Very.”

>>1100138
"Very"
"We served on the Abraxis together."

File: Swanson1.jpg (240 KB, 861x632)

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You sigh, focusing on the highway in front of you. “Very. We were very close,” you reply after a few seconds. You think back to your time in the Navy. You still remember what the cool metal of Linda’s prosthetic felt like in your hand.

“I see,” Cynthia says with what almost sounds like regret. “Sorry I brought it up.”

“Don’t be,” you reply. “What’s done is done. No point in worrying about something you can’t change, right?” You frown, wishing you could follow your own advice sometimes.

The two of you are quiet for a while as the radio crackles, belting out a couple more songs. You sigh, thinking back again to your Navy days. It always seems like you get soul-searchy whenever you drive, must be the reason you haven’t owned a car since the end of the War. Well, besides not being able to afford one for most of that time.

“It’s this exit up here,” Cynthia speaks up, pointing ahead to an exit a couple miles up the road. You get into the proper lane and pull off the highway, turning onto a small road. “This should lead us right to the boneyard.”

The truck rumbles down the road as you think about the time right after you got out of the Navy. About how you should’ve gone home, and how you should’ve raised hell with the administration when they screwed up your pension. So many things you should’ve done differently. Still, there’s nothing you can do about it now. You are about to say something, but Cynthia speaks up.

“I’m a little bit surprised that you decided to head out here,” she says. “Especially after what happened at the mansion. I would’ve expected you to want off this planet as soon as possible.”

You shrug. “An opportunity to get free parts is always one worth taking,” you reply.

She points to a large, fenced off area in the distance. “That’s the place.”

You pull up to the gate, looking into the massive field littered with rusting hulks. “Is it abandoned?”

Cynthia nods. “Has been for about a decade,” she replies. “And with the civil war going on, I doubt anyone will care if we snoop around here.”

You kill the engine as you park the truck behind a small out-building. “Then I guess we better get going.”

You both get out of the truck and look around. The boneyard has quite a few different types of ships. You see about a dozen Oberons lying next to each other in a row off to one side of the boneyard. Over nearer to the center are various bulk cargo ships, mostly repurposed military transports. All of them are basically skeletons though, picked dry by scavengers. Then you notice what looks like it used to be a battleship, with dozens of smaller ship hulks piled up around it. It makes sense, you figure. Battleships were pulled out of Federal service decades ago due to becoming obsolete.

“Where to first?” Cynthia looks at you.

>”May as well check out those old Oberons first. We should focus on getting what we came for.”
>”Let’s look at those old transports. Might be some worthwhile stuff left.”
>”That battleship is interesting. Let’s see if there’s anything important left in it.”

>>1100585
>"May as well check out those old Oberons first. We should focus on getting what we came for"
then if we still have some time
>"That battleship is interesting. Let's see if there's anything important left in it."

>>1100585
>>1100607
this

>>1100607
Pretty much this

>>1100585
This >>1100607 looks good to me.

>>1100607
Also, just wanna say, I'm stoked to finally be able to take part in a live thread!

“Let’s go look at those old Oberons first, see if we can find what we came here for.” You point to the line of Oberons in the distance, and the two of you begin walking toward them.

The first one you walk up to seems to be the most intact. You and Cynthia head up through the cargo hold into the crew areas, looking around carefully. It’s definitely not in any shape to fly, but you can tell that some parts are certainly salvageable.

The two of you climb the stairs up to the access hall between the bridge and the captain’s cabin, seeing that this vessel does indeed have a defensive turret. Cynthia climbs up into the turret housing and begins looking around.

“Well it’s not a stock turret,” she says after a few minutes. “These ships came with dual 14.5mm cannons in the turret. This one has quad 20mm canons. And it looks like some modifications have been made to the targeting computer to allow for automated firing.”

“Cool,” you nod.

“Very,” she replies. “But it’ll be a pain in the ass to take this setup apart, drag it back to the truck piece-by-piece, and re-assemble it aboard the Bad Habit. Each of these guns weighs close to a hundred pounds.”

“I see,” you nod. You then help her get down from the turret housing and she sighs. “I’m going to poke around the bridge for a moment, then I think we should check the other Oberons out. We should look at all of them before we decide to tear into them for parts.”

“Right,” you nod. “You need any help in the bridge?”

“Not really,” she shakes her head. “Like I said, I’m just taking a look. You should check out other parts of the ship while I do this. We’ll cover more ground that way.”

“Fair enough,” you nod. As she enters the bridge, you contemplate where you should check first.

>Engineering.
>The Captain’s Cabin.
>The Armory.
>The Medbay.
>The Crew Staterooms.
>The Sub-Bridge.
>Dry Storage.

>>1101030
>The Medbay
Maybe something we can upgrade ours.

Otherwise I like
>Engineering

>>1101030
>The Sub-Bridge.

I'm gonna wait 20 minutes for more votes to come in. If there's a tie, or if no more votes come it, I'll just roll a 1d2.

>>1101030
>The Medbay.
Shit, we probably should have bought our forklift along.

>>1101030
>>The Armory.

>>1101643
Yeah, we definitely shoulda asked Virgo along.

>>1101743
Assuming you bring anything back, there wouldn't have been enough space for him to ride along. The truck is a two-seater with a relatively small bed. Think of the future equivalent of an S-10 or a Ford Ranger.

>>1101743
We've got our communicator, we could ask him to head over in a cheap rental easy

We should do that

>>1101766
Understood, I was just making a joke about how Virgo is our forklift instead of an actual forklift. Best alien bro.
Also, is there a general description of Allen anywhere? I'd like to try my hand at him.

>>1101812
You know, I'm not actually super sure how he would look beyond a description of his height and build. I suppose he looks a little bit like a young Gregory Peck, but with a scar on his cheek and a small chunk taken out of his ear where that bullet grazed him in Episode 2.

File: It's not this nice looking.png (375 KB, 1024x576)

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You decide to head downstairs to the medbay, navigating through the rusting hulk carefully, the flashlight that Cynthia handed you when you left lighting the way. You arrive on the deck where the medbay is, passing the passenger staterooms and entering the corridor that runs along the starboard side of the ship.

You open the door to the medbay to find it mostly empty, its heavy equipment having been gutted long ago. However, you notice an old surgeon’s bag laying on the ruined operating table, and upon opening it, you see old, yet still usable surgical tools.

After finding the bag, you decide to look through the drawers and cabinets that are still in their proper positions, finding nothing of value. You do, however, find an old tool set that must’ve been left by a salvage crew. It contains a lot of high-dollar power tools, as well as several pneumatic tools.

You shrug, picking up both bags and heading back into the hallway, getting ready to head back up to the bridge with your loot.

However, you feel a cold chill go up your spine as a breeze moves through the corridor, toward the Armory and Sub-Bridge. There is a small noise somewhere in that direction, like something scuttling lightly across a metal floor. You point your flashlight down the corridor, seeing nothing out of the ordinary.

You swallow nervously as you hear the sound again. It’s either coming from the Armory or Sub-Bridge.

>Investigate the noise.
>Fuck that. Take your loot back to the bridge and meet up with Cynthia.

>>1102040
>>Investigate the noise.
And get ready to punch whatever comes out

>>1102040
>Take your loot back to the bridge and meet up with Cynthia
It's probably just a rat or some other vermin... right? What kind of things would hang out in a scrapyard?

>>1102040
>>Investigate the noise.

>>1102040
SUN'S OUT, GUNS OUT
>Investigate the noise.

>>1102040
>Investigate the noise.

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You walk forward slowly, sitting the doctor bag down and pulling your pistol out. Stopping right in front of the door to the Armory, you hear the noise again, behind the door.

You open it slowly, not making a sound, then shine the flashlight into the small room. The Armory appears empty, aside from a few discarded shell casings, and what you assume is an ammo can in the corner. You step inside and look around with your flashlight, checking behind the shelves and everything.

Then you almost jump out of your skin when the ammo can moves, hitting your boot. You take a wide step back and realize that it isn’t an ammo can at all, but a small, general-purpose robot, or GPR.

It runs into your boot again, then goes in a small circle, stopping just in front of you. Kneeling down, you see the little robot turn its spotlight on and point it at itself. More specifically, it appears to be pointing at a specific button.

“You want me to press that button?” You raise an eyebrow at the little automaton, which nods its spotlight up and down frantically.

Shrugging, you press the button and jump back again as a voice crackles from a busted speaker on the robot’s side. “THANK YOU,” it says with no apparent inflection. “THIS UNIT HAS BEEN SEALED WITHIN THIS COMPARTMENT FOR 10,561 DAYS 18 HOURS 22 MINUTES.” The little robot rolls in a circle again, seemingly quite happy. “WHAT IS YOUR DESIGNATION.”

“My designation?” You raise an eyebrow at the robot. “I’m Allen Starwind…”

“WHAT IS YOUR DESIGNATION,” it says again. You swear it sounds annoyed, despite not changing its tone at all.

“Uh…” You frown. “Starship captain?” You shrug.

“ACCEPTABLE,” it replies. “THIS UNIT HEREBY FALLS UNDER THE COMMAND OF CAPTAIN ALLEN STARWIND. AWAITING YOUR ORDERS.”

Huh.

>”Wait, are you asking to join my crew or something?”
>”You don’t seem like a regular GPR. Are you some kind of AI inhabiting one?”
>”Can you carry my bags?”
>”What’s your name?”
>Write-in.

>>1102499
>>”What’s your name?”
>”You don’t seem like a regular GPR. Are you some kind of AI inhabiting one?”

>>1102499
>”What’s your name?”
>and what can you do?
Those little guys in star wars had to have modules switched out for different jobs.

>>1102499
>”You don’t seem like a regular GPR. Are you some kind of AI inhabiting one?”
>"How have you been running for 28 years?"

I think I'm gonna call it a night here. I'll be running around the same time tomorrow.

>>1102816
Thanks for running.

>>1102499
>You don’t seem like a regular GPR. Are you some kind of AI inhabiting one?”
Very interesting

>>1102499
>”You don’t seem like a regular GPR. Are you some kind of AI inhabiting one?”
>”What’s your name?”

File: Paul.jpg (60 KB, 1280x720)

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“You don’t seem like a regular GPR,” you say with a frown. As far as you know, GPRs only use virtual intelligence, not artificial intelligence. But this one doesn’t act like a VI. “Are you some sort of AI inhabiting a robot?”

The robot is quiet for a few seconds, and you almost reach forward to give it a tap on the speaker to see if it has broken. “… NEGATIVE,” it finally replies. “THIS UNIT HAS NO PROGRAMMING DISCREPANCIES.”

“Okay,” you nod. “What’s your name?”

“THIS UNIT’S DESIGNATION IS PAU-1. PREVIOUS MISSION DIRECTORS HAVE REFERRED TO THIS UNIT AS ‘PAUL’ FOR SIMPLICITY’S SAKE.”

“Mission directors?” You raise an eyebrow at Paul.

“STARSHIP CAPTAINS,” it replies. “THIS UNIT IS A PERSONAL ASSISTANT, CAPABLE OF A WIDE RANGE OF MISSIONS AND TASKS RELATING TO THE ADMINISTRATION OF A STARSHIP. THIS UNIT IS ALSO CAPABLE OF UTILITY FUNCTIONS.”

“What kind of utility functions?” You frown. Paul isn’t a very big robot, so you don’t imagine him being able to haul things around.

“THIS UNIT IS CAPABLE OF GRABBING AND MANIPULATING OBJECTS USING A GRAPPLE ARM. OTHER FUNCTIONS INCLUDE INTERFACING WITH COMPUTER SYSTEMS AND RUNNING SIMULATIONS.”

You frown. “So how exactly have you been running for so long? Ten thousand days is beyond the lifespan of most robots’ batteries.”

“POWER-SAVING MODE. THIS UNIT ACTIVATED UPON SENSING MOVEMENT WITHIN THE VESSEL.” Paul rolls in a small circle again. “REQUESTING MISSION DIRECTIVES, CAPTAIN.”

>”Uhh, carry my things and follow me to the bridge?”
>”Hold on. I’m not YOUR captain. You probably belong to somebody.”
>”Go wait outside.”
>”Search this ship for anything useful.”
>Write-in.

Forgot my trip.

>>1105764
>>”Uhh, carry my things and follow me to the bridge?”
Can something so small really carry all our stuff?

>>1105764
>”Uhh, carry my things and follow me to the bridge?”
>Write-in.

Do you know of any other supplies that might be useful left in the ship?

>>1105764
>”Search this ship for anything useful.”

>>1105764
> carry my shit and follow me to the bridge.
Feel free to provide colourful commentary.

“Uhh… Carry my things to the bridge?”

“UNDERSTOOD,” Paul replies. With that, it rolls out of the armory and into the hallway. You see the robot wheel up to your bags, and think that it probably won’t be able to carry them.

However, two grappling arms unfold from Paul’s back and grab the bags, effortlessly lifting them over the robot as it moves down the corridor toward the stairwell. “FOLLOW ME, CAPTAIN.”

You are a little bit intrigued to see Paul work. Apparently it can move its wheels in a way that lets it climb stairs with ease. You arrive on the bridge with Paul to find Cynthia halfway through removing the entire control panel. She looks over at the two of you and raises an eyebrow. “Allen, where’d you get the robot?”

“His name’s Paul,” you reply with a chuckle. “Found him in the armory. I guess he’s a personal assistant.”

“And why is he following you?”

You shrug. “I guess he’s part of the crew now.”

Cynthia sighs, kneeling down to look at the robot more closely. “Well I’m sure we can use a robot, but did you ask if he’s someone else’s property? We could be inadvertently stealing.”

“THIS UNIT’S PREVIOUS MISSION DIRECTOR IS DECEASED. AUTHORITY TO TRANSFER MISSION DIRECTORS IS LEFT IN THE HANDS OF THE NEAREST QUALIFIED OPERATOR. IF NONE IS PRESENT, THIS UNIT MAY SELF-ASSIGN A MISSION DIRECTOR.”

You look over at Cynthia, who shrugs. “I guess he chose you,” she says. “Anyway, I got all the gauges we need for the bridge. Do you want to look at the other ships?”

>”Let’s get that turret taken apart and put on the truck first.”
>”Let’s go look at that battleship.”
>”Let’s check the rest of the Oberons.”
>”There are still other parts of this ship we should probably check.”
>Write-in.

>>1105980
>>”Let’s get that turret taken apart and put on the truck first.”

>>1105980
>”Let’s go look at that battleship.”

Might come across an easier turret to take, or on the other Oberons

>>1105980
>”Let’s get that turret taken apart and put on the truck first.”

>>1105980
> write in
Ask Paul if he really has to talk in all caps the whole time.

>>1105980
>Write-in: Ask Paul if he can talk in emojis.

File: We've got mechanical problems.jpg (44 KB, 480x640)

44 KB JPG

You sigh. “Let’s get that turret taken apart and put on the truck. It’s probably the best setup we’re going to find here.”

“Alright,” Cynthia replies. “Let me get my tools and I’ll get right on it.”

-30 MINUTES LATER-

“No, Allen, I said a hex head, not a torques!” Cynthia grumbles as you fish around for the proper ratchet head. You look up with a sigh, seeing that despite the efforts of the both of you, the turret is still mostly intact. Handing her the ratchet head, you wipe the sweat from your brow and go back to prying the interior panels away from the turret housing.

“It’s been half an hour and we’ve only gotten two guns off,” you say with a groan.

“Quit complaining,” Cynthia replies as she yanks another of the 20mm cannons from its housing. You help her sit the gun on the floor, then you both work on removing the ammunition canisters.

Eventually, you both manage to get all four guns removed, and begin working on the turret itself. It only takes about ten minutes to get the turret and housing disassembled, then you begin hauling it all out to your truck. Paul remains quiet for most of it, using his grappling arms to help you carry your loot.

After close to half an hour, you get all of the turret parts and guns into the truck bed, closing the tailgate. “Well, judging by the way our ship is set up,” Cynthia begins. “We’re going to have to get some work done to it professionally in order to fit this turret on. In the meantime we should be able to store it in the empty room.”

“Fair enough,” you nod. It looks like you’ll have to settle with not having a turret for a while until you can get a professional to look at the Bad Habit. Thankfully you know a professional with a shop already.

“So are we done here, or do you want to look around some more?” Cynthia raises an eyebrow at you.

>”Let’s head home.”
>”I’m thinking there might be something worthwhile on that old battleship.”
>”Let’s check out the other Oberons.”
>”Let’s have a look at those old transport hulks.”
>Write-in.

>>1106245
>”I’m thinking there might be something worthwhile on that old battleship.”

>>1106245
>>”I’m thinking there might be something worthwhile on that old battleship.”

>>1106245
>”Let’s check out the other Oberons.”

If possible I would like a turret we can set up immediately, even if it is overall worse than the one we have now

>>1106245
>”Let’s check out the other Oberons.”

>>1106245
> the other Oberons
Make sure we have enough spare parts.
Holy shit guys, we are a space truck not a gun boat.

>>1106245
>”I’m thinking there might be something worthwhile on that old battleship.”

Alrighty, I just got back from the store... And there's a tie. I'll wait fifteen minutes, then roll a d2 if no tiebreaker is made.

>>1106245
>”I’m thinking there might be something worthwhile on that old battleship.”
I'll stop lurking, I guess.

File: Kinda like this.jpg (88 KB, 1920x1080)

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“I’m thinking we should check that old battleship. Might be something worth taking back with us.” You point to the battleship. Cynthia nods and the two of you begin heading toward the massive hulk. It is easily larger than a battlecruiser, most battleships were, and you find yourself breathless as you approach it. Though they had reached the limit of their serviceable lives decades ago, you have to admit, this one is still pretty damn imposing.

“Why would they just get rid of something like this?” Cynthia gestures to the hulk as you both approach it.

“They were obsolete,” you reply. “And modernizing one of them was as expensive as building two battlecruisers.” You cross your arms, looking for a place to enter the vessel. Spotting what appears to be an old access hatch, you walk over to it.

Opening the hatch with some effort, you shine your flashlight inside, seeing a rusted hallway that seems to go the entire width of the ship. You take a step inside, motioning for Cynthia to follow you. You notice that Paul has followed both of you as well.

“So I’m thinking that we should find a map of this thing,” you begin. “Otherwise we’ll end up lost, and getting lost in a ship this big could be a very serious problem.” You frown, running the flashlight’s beam along the wall as the three of you move down the hall.

“How serious of a problem?” Cynthia looks at you, a bit of worry creeping onto her features.

>”Well, I’ll tell you a story an old chief told me…” (tell her a scary story)
>”These were the largest warships in the Federal Navy until they built the newest generation of carriers. We could be here a while if we get lost.” (blunt)
>”Eh, don’t worry about it. We’ll find a map.” (reassure her)
>Write-in.

>>1107042
>”Eh, don’t worry about it. We’ll find a map.” (reassure her)

"Unless of course the cursed crew that were trapped in the maze took all of them down out of spite. But that's only happened a few times."

>>1107042
>>1107065
This.

>>1107042
>>”Eh, don’t worry about it. We’ll find a map.” (reassure her)

>>1107042
>”Well, I’ll tell you a story an old chief told me…” (tell her a scary story)

>>1107042
>>”Well, I’ll tell you a story an old chief told me…” (tell her a scary story)

>>1107042
>”Well, I’ll tell you a story an old chief told me…” (tell her a scary story)
Hmm, they probably would have stripped all the fancy stuff like in the sensor clusters.

File: Recurring Nightmares.jpg (147 KB, 1920x1200)

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“Let me tell you a story I heard from an old chief who served aboard one of these ships,” you say with a little smirk. “So when they were building these things, they didn’t give the shipyard techs maps of the ships. Everyone was supposed to carry a different colored piece of chalk and mark where they had been.”

“Like bread crumbs?” Cynthia raises an eyebrow at you.

“Exactly,” you reply. “The only problem with that was… Back in those days, shipyards cut corners when it came to that kind of stuff. They had deadlines to meet, you know how it goes.” You all turn a corner and begin heading up a flight of stairs. You can tell by the colored line about waist-high on the walls that you’re in the Engineering department. “Anyway, the story goes that sometimes… A dockworker would get lost while doing work up in a cramped, isolated part of the ship. They’d get welded into a closed compartment by accident, or just get lost in a part of the ship where people don’t ever go, and eventually…” You shrug. “They’d just be forgotten. Nobody knows how many dockworkers went missing, some say the numbers are in the hundreds, others say it’s in the thousands…” A little chill goes up your spine, you’re just a little bit too good at telling this one.

“S-so what happened to them?” Cynthia looks at you, wide-eyed. You notice that she’s practically touching you.

“What happens to anyone that gets forgotten in some isolated, closed-off space?” You draw your finger across your neck for emphasis. “Anyway, this chief told me that he served one tour aboard a battleship and demanded a transfer. Said he’d never serve aboard one again.” You pause for emphasis. “And this guy was tough as nails. Nothing could scare him.”

You exit the stairway and find yourselves on another floor, apparently entering the Command Decks now judging by the paint.

“He said you could hear banging coming from in between the wall panels, and on the outside of the pressure hull,” you say. “Not just a random noise every now and then either. Said it was constant. And that the closer to the noise you got, the faster it would go.” You all begin walking down a corridor that you assume will lead to a set of stairs going to the bridge. “And that wasn’t all. He said that every now and then, you could hear other things… The occasional sigh in the middle of off-shift, a scream somewhere in the bilge, even the sound of something being dragged across the floor right next to you. Said it’d always get really cold and the lights would flicker before stuff like that happened.” You are about to say more, when an ice-cold breeze strong enough to ruffle your hair blows down the corridor, almost as though the entire ship is breathing.

File: It looks like this.png (2.3 MB, 3356x2111)

2.3 MB PNG

There is a thump overhead, likely an old pipe contracting, but it is enough to make Cynthia jump, yelping a little. You stifle a chuckle at her reaction to your little ghost story. “T-that’s not a story you should be telling when you’re inside a creepy, derelict starship!” She looks at you angrily, having noticed your amusement. You both arrive at a little map on the wall, showing a view of the deck you’re on, as well as two decks above and below you.

>”Sorry.”
>”When else would I get to tell it?”
>”What if it’s not just a story?” (keep trying to spook her)
>Write-in.

>>1107309
>>”When else would I get to tell it?”

>>1107309
>>”When else would I get to tell it?”

>>1107309
>>”When else would I get to tell it?”

>>1107309
>Write-in.
It's nothing to worry about. We have a map now! We are perfectly safe.

>>1107309
>”When else would I get to tell it?”

“When else would I get to tell it?” You smirk at Cynthia as you remove the prybar from your belt, placing the edge behind the map. You give a few resounding tugs and the map is ripped from its frame, allowing you to hold it. “Besides, we’re all good now that we have a map.”

“… Fine,” Cynthia huffs, still a little bit mad. “So where are we anyway?”

“Apparently we’re on the lowest command deck. If we head forward, we’ll run into the crew quarters and fire control, aft and we’ll hit engineering. And if we head up a couple of decks, we should run into the bridge.” You nod. “Looks like anything worthwhile will probably be in engineering or fire-control.”

“Could be some interesting stuff on the bridge too,” Cynthia says. “And the Crew Quarters will almost certainly have some things that the salvagers left behind. Things like storage containers, without their contents of course.”

“THIS UNIT SUGGESTS EXPLORING THE ENGINEERING DECKS AS WELL,” Paul says. You both jump a little at how loud he is.

“Okay…” You frown, considering your options. You’ve already been in this boneyard for about an hour, and it’ll take at least thirty minutes to get back to the ship, maybe more. You think that you should probably limit your time here. “We could always split up to cover more ground…” You frown to yourself.

“Not happening,” Cynthia glares at you. “We’re sticking together until we get out of this hulk.” She points at the map in your hands. “Besides, you have the only map.”

You shrug. “Alright then. I guess we should get a move on.”

“Any idea on where we should go first?” Cynthia crosses her arms.

>Fire-Control
>Engineering
>Crew Quarters
>The Bridge

>>1107573
>>Engineering

>>1107573
>>Engineering
tools and supplies

>>1107573
>Engineering

Sounds like the place to go.

>>1107573
>Engineering

>>1107573
>Engineering
Maybe we will find a rare limited run space spanner or something.

I'm gonna have to call the session here for tonight. I'll be running tomorrow afternoon, which should be enough to finish up the thread.

File: Engineering Center.jpg (109 KB, 1259x717)

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“Let’s check out Engineering. The central Engineering Department should be just aft of here,” you say.

“Alright,” Cynthia nods. “Lead the way.”

The three of you make your way aft, noticing that the battleship is surprisingly intact for a ship at a boneyard. It makes sense, you suppose. There aren’t a lot of parts that could be used on other ships without major modification.

The three of you arrive at the door to the Central Engineering Room and you open it slowly, straining against the weight of the heavy door. Inside is a rather spacious room with a large machine at the center, the reactor you assume, and three doorways leading to other parts of the Engineering department.

“Looks like they cleared most of the smaller machinery out when they left,” Cynthia says. “There isn’t anything connected to this reactor, and I bet if we opened the case up, it’d be empty.” She points to the doorways. “Looks like the doorway furthest aft leads to the drive transmissions. I doubt there’s anything in there worth messing with, but we could always check anyway.” She then points to a doorway on the port-side wall. “That’s probably the machine shop, or rather one of their machine shops. Might be something worth taking in there.” She shrugs. “I don’t know what the other door is though.

“I guess they took the signs when they left too,” you frown, shining your flashlight around the room. “Doesn’t specify what the other room is on this map either.” You look down at your map, seeing that the only text on the area where you are reads ‘Engineering’. You sigh.

>Check the Central Room for anything useful. (roll a 1d100)
>Check the Machine Shop. (roll a 1d100)
>Check the Transmission Room. (roll a 1d100)
>Check the unknown room.

>>1111084
>>Check the unknown room.
Mystery box!

>>1111084
>Check the Machine Shop. (roll a 1d100)

>>1111084
>Check the unknown room.

You can't just leave a mystery box there and not expect us to jump on it

>>1111084
>>Check the unknown room.

>>1111084
>Check the unknown room.
inb4 that's the restrooms

File: Spoiler Image (48 KB, 350x394)

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“Let’s check that room,” you point your flashlight at the third door. The three of you begin walking, when Cynthia turns to Paul.

“Stay behind and check this room for anything interesting,” she says.

“AFFIRMATIVE,” Paul crackles. You and Cynthia walk up to the door, and as you open it, she leans in and whispers to you.

“Something’s up with that robot.” She narrows her eyes, glancing back toward Paul, who has begun rolling around the room in search of useful salvage.

“What do you mean?” You whisper back at her, opening the door as you do so. The two of you enter the dark room in front of you.

“A regular VI doesn’t ‘suggest’ that we head to Engineering,” she replies. “That kind of thinking is too abstract for a VI’s programming.”

“You think he’s got an AI?” You raise an eyebrow at Cynthia as you scan the room with your flashlight. It appears to be some kind of workshop, though the amount of clutter here seems to be a little too much when you consider how barren the rest of the ship has been.

“It would certainly explain some things,” she says as you walk forward. Looking around, you see various scraps of machinery and electrical equipment.

“Cynthia, can you make sense of any of this?” You move the flashlight’s beam across a table cluttered with machine parts.

She frowns, walking up and looking closely at the components. “These look like… Computer parts… And other components as well…” She picks something up. “CPU parts, hydraulics, servos, and what looks like part of a hydraulic master cylinder.” She looks at you with a puzzled expression. “These look like parts for building a rudimentary automaton…”

“They’re spares,” a gruff voice says from a corner of the room. As the voice speaks, a bank of floodlights comes on, illuminating the entire room. You instinctively grab for your pistol, only for the voice to stop you. “There’s no need for violence, kid.” An older man, probably in his late forties, stands near the back of the room, in a doorway. He carries an old shotgun lazily in his right hand, holding his left hand up toward you. Immediately you realize that his left hand is a prosthetic, obviously built from spare parts.

>”Who are you?”
>”Didn’t realize we were intruding. I suppose we’ll be leaving then.”
>”Takes a lot of skill to rig up a prosthetic like that. You build it yourself?”
>Write-in.

>>1111256
>>”Didn’t realize we were intruding. I suppose we’ll be leaving then.”

>>1111256
>>”Didn’t realize we were intruding. I suppose we’ll be leaving then.”

>>1111256
>”Takes a lot of skill to rig up a prosthetic like that. You build it yourself?”

>>1111256
>”Didn’t realize we were intruding. I suppose we’ll be leaving then.”
>”Takes a lot of skill to rig up a prosthetic like that. You build it yourself?”

>>1111256
>>”Didn’t realize we were intruding. I suppose we’ll be leaving then.”

You slowly move your hand away from your pistol, raising it to show that you aren’t looking for trouble. “Didn’t realize that we were intruding,” you say. “We’ll just be leaving now.”

The older guy shrugs, pointing to the door. “Fair enough. I ain’t gonna stop you.” With that, you and Cynthia both exit the workshop as quickly as you can.

“Well that was strange,” Cynthia says as the two of you return to the central room.

“Agreed, let’s go.” You frown, looking for Paul. “Paul, we’re leaving!”

“UNDERSTOOD,” Paul zooms out from behind a pillar, following the two of you. Your little group makes their way back through the command areas and you soon find yourselves at the stairwell leading to the corridor you entered through. Unfortunately, you don’t find any other loot of your way there. You begin to head down the stairs when Cynthia speaks up.

“So we’re actually leaving?” She raises an eyebrow at you.

“That guy probably lives here,” you shrug. “If we took anything, he might see it as us trying to steal from him. I don’t really feel like messing with somebody who might put some buckshot in me if I make him mad.”

“I guess that makes sense,” Cynthia replies as the three of you begin descending the stairs. “Still, he didn’t seem that angry at us being here.”

“I don’t like to test peoples’ patience on things like that.” You grimace, thinking back to that little workshop. You all arrive in the corridor leading to the exterior of the battleship.

“You know,” Cynthia whispers to you. “Paul could have been that guy’s creation. Or at least something that he knows about.”

“Maybe,” you shrug. “Either way, we’ve spent enough time in here anyway. This battleship has been picked clean of anything useful.” The three of you exit through the access hatch finding yourselves back in the boneyard. You squint and use your arm to shield your face from the brightness of midday.

“So do you want to look around for any more salvage, or head home with what we’ve got?” Cynthia crosses her arms and looks out at the various hulks.

>”Let’s go home.”
>”I want to check those other Oberons before we leave.”
>”There might be something left in those old transport ships.”
>Write-in.

>>1111640
>>”I want to check those other Oberons before we leave.”

>>1111640
>>”I want to check those other Oberons before we leave.”

>>1111640
>>”I want to check those other Oberons before we leave.”

>>1111640
>”I want to check those other Oberons before we leave.”

>>1111640
> Czech on the other Oberons
But only because zap thought we would be getting if this rock this session. Nope, there are lots more distractions! Pity we didn't talk to the technician, he probably had an interesting story.

>>1111724
>he probably had an interesting story
He did. Oh well, I may find a way for you guys to encounter him again if you ever return to New Albany.

“I want to check the other Oberons before we leave,” you say as you begin walking toward them. Cynthia and Paul follow you as you walk up to the first one that you didn’t search earlier.

It appears to be mostly picked clean, with many panels and internal components removed. You discover that the engines and reactor have been removed entirely, and that the bulkheads in the crew decks have also been removed, making the entire deck one large room. Unfortunately, this one doesn’t have a turret at all. You decide to move to the next one after finding nothing of interest.

The second Oberon you look at is much like the previous one, torn apart for scrap. However, you do manage to find something interesting. Apparently the previous captain left some of his personal effects behind with the ship. You find an old handheld astrogation device in the captain’s stateroom. Though obsolete long ago, it certainly is an interesting-looking machine, and it will no doubt look cool on a shelf, so you take it. This Oberon has part of its turret remaining, but you immediately realize that the mechanism for the cannon has been torch-cut at some point to prevent it from being used.

The next Oberon is basically a skeleton, and though you learn a great deal about how your own vessel is put together, you don’t find anything of use aside from an empty duffel bag that could come in handy later. With a sigh, you head over to the final Oberon in the line, or rather the final one that isn’t entirely a skeleton.

This one is mostly intact, with some panels missing from the outer skin, but the inside mostly untouched by salvagers. The three of you begin your search at the bottom of the vessel, in the cargo hold, and work your way up toward the bridge. While you find more tools in Engineering and some old photos of the crew in a stateroom, there isn’t much to find beyond some spare parts that Cynthia takes back to the truck.

However, upon entering the CIC, you discover something interesting. There is an old box laying underneath a console, covered in dust. It has a Federal Navy emblem embossed on its smooth metal exterior, and a heavy lock on the front. However, the lock is no match for your prybar, and you quickly have it off. With baited breath, you look back at Cynthia, who leans close toward you and the box. You lift the lid.

>Roll a 1d100 for loot! Best of three.

Rolled 96 (1d100)

>>1111803

Rolled 80 (1d100)

>>1111803

Rolled 68 (1d100)

>>1111803
Witness me!

>>1111818
Mediocre, literally.

>>1111809
Score!

File: 1481665083973.gif (1024 KB, 184x141)

1024 KB GIF

>>1111809
>>1111817
>>1111818
Noice. Loot incoming.

>>1111942
>>”Of course.”
>”What do you need to do there?”

File: A gun you've never seen before.jpg (24 KB, 500x375)

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Inside the box are a few different things. First is a piece of laminated paper with coordinates on it, clearly an explorer’s note judging by the Galactic Survey Corps watermark. However, there’s no catalogue number, meaning that this one hasn’t been recorded. Curious, to say the least. Next is a small bag containing four portable data storage drives, conveniently numbered. You frown as you try to read some faded writing on one of them. Below the plastic bag is a small crystal of some kind. It is smooth and cool to the touch, seemingly having naturally formed in a round shape. You raise an eyebrow and pocket the crystal for later, could be worth something.

At the bottom of the container is a small, wooden box with a note scrawled across the lid.

‘To a special friend’

You frown and open the lid, stumped by what you see. It is some kind of pistol, with two triggers, and some kind of bolt-action mechanism on the top. There is also a hatch on the side of it, with a small button there. You notice, laying in separate cut-outs in the box, are what look like eight batteries. You press a little button on the side of the pistol and the hatch swings open, revealing a container just the right size for one of the batteries.

You pluck one of the batteries from its cut-out and insert it into the chamber, closing the hatch. All of a sudden, the translucent handle of the weapon begins to vibrate. Not enough to be a problem or anything, in fact it is barely enough to notice. Not only that, but the gun feels… Warm. You point it at the wall, aiming down the sights and noticing that it almost feels like you don’t need to aim. It is almost as though you know where the projectile will hit.

“I’ve never seen a gun like that,” Cynthia says as she looks at your new weapon, pulling you out of your own thoughts and back into the real world.

“Me either,” you reply. “Looks like some kind of prototype.” You remove the battery and notice that the heat goes away, along with the pulsing. Sitting the weapon and battery back in the case, you close it and pick it up, along with the rest of your loot.

“Well I don’t think we’ll be finding much else,” Cynthia says. “You ready to leave?”

“I suppose so,” you nod. The three of you carry your things back to the truck. As you toss some parts into the bed of the truck, you notice that the sun is a bit lower in the sky, it is probably mid-afternoon by now.

As you walk over to get into the truck, Cynthia stops you. “I’ll drive,” she says simply. You shrug and hop into the passenger seat as Cynthia picks Paul up and sits him in the bed of the truck as well. The truck takes off down the dirt road as you flip the radio on again.

You take your canteen out, unscrewing the cap. “Want some?” You hold it out to Cynthia, who takes the canteen and drinks a little bit from it. She hands it to you and you take a swig as well, returning it to your belt with a sigh.

“So Allen, I’ve been thinking…” Cynthia begins speaking hesitantly as she pulls out onto the road. “Next time we stop by Earth, could we maybe head to Fargo? There’s… There’s something I need to do.”

>”Of course.”
>”Do you mind heading there alone? I don’t exactly feel like I should be hanging around my hometown.”
>”No, sorry.”
>”What do you need to do there?”
>Write-in.

>>1111951
>>”What do you need to do there?”

>>1111951
>”Of course.”
>”What do you need to do there?”

>>1111951
>>”Of course.”
>”What do you need to do there?”

>>1111951
>>”What do you need to do there?”

>>1111951
>>”Of course.”
>>”What do you need to do there?”

>>1111951
>”Of course.”
>”What do you need to do there?”

>>1111951
> of course
Maybe Solfrid will have something to say about the crystal and the vibrating magic gun.

File: Militias.jpg (289 KB, 650x450)

289 KB JPG

“Of course,” you nod. “But if you don’t mind me asking, what do you need to do there?”

She frowns, seemingly lost in thought. “I have a little bit of unfinished business,” she says. “Nothing super important, mostly checking up on a few people I know. And I’m going to lay some flowers up at the cemetery, I do it every year.”

“Oh,” you reply. You are completely aware of whose grave she leaves the flowers at. “Yeah, sure.” You look out the window as the truck pulls onto the highway and begins to speed up.

“Thanks,” she says. “It’s nice to have a boss who’s as understanding as you.” She stops herself.

“I’m not just your boss,” you say. “You and I have been friends since ever. It wouldn’t be right to tell you that you can’t take a trip to your hometown.” You look over at her, rubbing the back of your neck.

“It’s your hometown too, you know,” she says with a sad grin. “Just because you’ve spent most of your life away from it doesn’t change that.” She looks back to the road as she changes lanes to get around a transport truck.

“Yeah,” you admit. “Still, it didn’t feel so homey when I returned. I guess locations just aren’t that important to me anymore.” You sigh. “Who knows? Maybe going back again will make me more sentimental.”

“That’s odd…” Cynthia frowns and you feel the truck slow down quickly as she hits the brakes. Looking forward, you see that the transport truck you just passed has passed you again, and is falling in line behind others. Ahead of them is a line of military vehicles blocking the highway, with a small gap in one lane being minded by uniformed guards.

“It’s a roadblock,” you growl. “Can you tell whether they’re militia or Marines?”

“I’m not familiar with their uniforms.” Cynthia frowns as she stops the truck. You see a pair of men in tan uniforms walk up to the truck, definitely not Marines.

“Afternoon, folks,” one of them says as he walks up to the drivers’ side window. “State your business.”

“Just bringing some spare parts back to our ship,” you point to the truck bed with your thumb. “We’re spacers.” You then raise your eyebrow at the soldiers. “Can’t say I’m familiar with your uniforms though.”

“We’re with the Eighteenth New Albany Militia, Civil Security Patrol Detatchment,” the man says with a frown. “I’m afraid all offworld traffic has been closed until further notice.” He grimaces at you. “We’ll be able to clear your entry to the city though, but you’ll be given an escort.”

Just as you’re about to reply, your communicator beeps. You put a hand up apologetically to which the soldier merely nods. You pull out your communicator and view the text message on your screen. It’s from Sergeant Hendricks.

Militias just attacked HQ. Attempting to split from Federation entirely. Looks like they attacked the Geomancer too. They’ve taken over most gov’t infrastructure. They’re arresting whoever they see as a threat. Spacers, local gov’t officials, Marine officers, etc. Allen, whatever you do, GET OFF OF NEW ALBANY ASAP.

You swallow nervously. Uh oh.

Aaand that's it for Episode 15! I wish it could've been longer, but some unexpected stuff happened over the weekend that interrupted that. Either way, we'll be running again with a new thread this coming Thursday.

Mood music:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=83hRRlKn7TA

What do you think the mystery gun is? Where do you think it originates from?

>>1112237

The city is still in the direction of our port right?

"Alright, if it's for our protection we'll take that escort. Thanks for your work here."

And then we ditch or attack that escort as soon as possible

>>1112249
The docks are basically IN the city.

>>1112237
Argh, I wonder what kind of defenses they have that could stop us from just flying the fuck away?

>>1112248
The vibrating magic handle reminds me of the space elf shaman stone but I don't know if they made normal guns, or maybe that one is just a really small bow.

>>1112298
>Argh, I wonder what kind of defenses they have that could stop us from just flying the fuck away?
Probably AA cannons, SAM sites and fighters. Planetary militia should have some cheap atmospheric ones at least.

>>1112307
Hmm, well maybe we could promise them more guns when we came back if they let us scram.

New thread is up:
>>1120957
>>1120957
>>1120957