You don't have time to dwell on it. You shift your focus. Your ship is on a course for the side of the station rather than its exposed innards. You'd rather end up inside. You need to do something.

>'Manually' set a docking course. You've got some volatile gasses and a pistol to ignite them. What could go wrong?

>Bail. Your wreck is not a ship anymore. You can probably handle an approach at speed in just your flight suit. Navigation is easy when you have so little mass. Holding your breath is doable. The landing... might be a bit of a problem.

>Wait it out. Once you impact, you'll slow down quite a bit. Then you can hop into some exposed room. The collision can't be worse than getting hit by anti-ship battery fire was, right?

>>2298346
>'Manually' set a docking course. You've got some volatile gasses and a pistol to ignite them. What could go wrong?

>>2298346
>'Manually' set a docking course. You've got some volatile gasses and a pistol to ignite them. What could go wrong?

>>2298346
>>Bail. Your wreck is not a ship anymore. You can probably handle an approach at speed in just your flight suit. Navigation is easy when you have so little mass. Holding your breath is doable. The landing... might be a bit of a problem.

>>2298351
>>2298358
>manual docking

>>2298378
>very manual docking

Manual docking wins. You'll be blowing up your spaceship a little bit more. Writing now.

>>2298389
Whew, thank god, I was afraid we were going to blow up our spaceship a lot more.

>>2298389
When do we get our magic pool to spend on rolls

>>2298411
Who knows~

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The thrusters on your ship may be gone, but that doesn't mean there's no way to correct your course. The station is wide open. You just need to land in a room. Stopping the spinning would be good too.

Making your way to the edge of your half-ship is disorienting. Your steps are steady, but your eyes disagree. Part of your brain says you're being thrown bodily through the air. Stars and metal fragments fly past the outside of your ship. The active gravity and inertia prevent you from suffering the same fate, but its hard for your human body to really understand. You could close your eyes, but you aren't an idiot. You try to console your instincts. Really it's the rest of the universe revolving around you.

Reaching the ragged metal at the edge of your ship, you go prone. You peer into the space between the floor and the outer hull. The sight is promising. Only a few fuel tanks have been breached. The atmospheric converter is unharmed as well. You reach down, one hand gripping the floor, and extract a couple of cylinders of gas.

Standing carefully, you return to the center of the ship. Your steps are tense with excitement. The magnetic locks activate at your behest, steadying both you and the explosives next to you. With your newfound leverage, you wrench the panel beneath you out of the floor and toss it aside. Activating your computer, you hook in to the atmospheric controls below, no longer accessible from your main console.

After a moment of design, the ship projector renders several imaginary pipes in the air. Fiddling with the controls on your wrist, you direct them to the edges of the gaping hole a few feet away. You set them up just past the atmospheric shield.

You hijack the shielding system and repurpose it, pulling it unevenly back. The translucent blue stretches, the intangible forcefield behaving like a rubbery surface. Your pipes shimmer into being. The shielding whines in protest.

You pop the valves on the gas tanks. Theres no way to get a good seal. You've already pushed the shielding beyond what it's meant to be capable of. That's ok though, your flight suit can handle a vacuum for a bit, and the air in your helmet will last you for a minute or so. Plus you can hold your breath for longer than that.

Whipping out your pistol, you pull the trigger fearlessly. The whole room ignites, the flash of fire automatically dimmed by your visor. The surge of air is exhilarating. You cough slightly at the pressure, but your suit works out the worst of it. You've taken harder hits than that in the last few minutes.

When the worst of it recedes, you're left with trails of flame extending to the edges of the ship. The glow of fire is highlighted by the black char that now coats the inside, and probably you too. Your brand new thrusters are in working order.

>>2298647
The system is completely obtuse though. Up, down, yaw, pitch and so on are just combinations of pipes, each of which has completely analog airflow. You don't even know how much each pipe can handle. You might be a skilled pilot, but you didn't really think through how hard this would be.

You can't help but grin. You'll start by stopping the spinning. After that, you'll:

>Take it slow and steady. Shoot for a gentle landing. Fine adjustments. As long as you stay calm, your limited air will last longer.

>Line it up and then let the controls go. The landing is going ot be rough no matter what you do. You can work on hooking the atmospheric converter directly into your suit so you'll be able to breathe. You can already feel the inside of your suit getting stuffy.

>Punch it. There's no telling when the thrusters will fail. Finer adjustments with these controls are a joke. The faster you get there, the less likely it is that things will go horribly wrong. Plus, you can only hold your breath for so long.

Whatever you choose, please roll for me 3d10.

The DC will depend on your choice.

Rolled 2, 2, 2 = 6 (3d11)

>>2298651
>Punch it. There's no telling when the thrusters will fail. Finer adjustments with these controls are a joke. The faster you get there, the less likely it is that things will go horribly wrong. Plus, you can only hold your breath for so long.

Rolled 10, 9, 1 = 20 (3d10)

>>2298651
>Punch it. There's no telling when the thrusters will fail. Finer adjustments with these controls are a joke. The faster you get there, the less likely it is that things will go horribly wrong. Plus, you can only hold your breath for so long.

Rolled 5, 1, 4 = 10 (3d10)

>>2298651
>>Line it up and then let the controls go. The landing is going ot be rough no matter what you do. You can work on hooking the atmospheric converter directly into your suit so you'll be able to breathe. You can already feel the inside of your suit getting stuffy.

>>2298656
>>2298668
>go fast, don't overcomplicate things

>>2298673
>try not to suffocate

6 (sure this counts), 20, 10 vs DC 15
Regular failure. You'll be fine. Writing now.

File: a diagram of the situation.png (15 KB, 640x436)

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It's not too hard to get a quick handle on the basic controls. Stopping the spinning is as easy as firing the pipes on the side counter to the motion. First you stop the rotation horizontally relative to the station, then vertically.

The veins of fire pulse with the exertion. Tiny eruptions of flame push their way through the strained shielding like water from a leaky pipe. Your suit conducts the shielding's whine up and through your bones. The shuddering motion of your ship rattles your bones. Every adjustment you make increases the volume. You frantically set yourself on a course for the biggest unobstructed hole you can see.

The ship speeds up. Each adjustment adds more energy. As conduits lose coherence, you force more gas through to compensate. At the end of it, you have every thruster on full bore. Then the whining stops. The conduits of light maintain themselves for only a moment, and then wisp away. You are left in silence.

You look through the hole below you. The atmosphere is offline. The ship releases you from the floor. You float with it, together in space. All you can do now is remain calm. You're still a ways away from the station. Your air needs to last that long.

Dwelling on it won't help, so you turn your attention back to the wreckage beside you. You view is much better now that you're not spinning. The sea of debris ebbs and flows in magnetic eddies, forming into a thin funnel. A few pieces fly aimlessly out into space, but the rest rotate around the axis. The metronomic motion invokes the image of disembodied gears: disassembled clockwork.

The spinning motion of your ship no longer prevents you from getting a good look. Without any distractions, the nature of the characteristic motion is apparent. This is a crash storm. Born from a hapless ship crashing at hyper-lightspeed, its sight as rare as it is unforgettable.

The contained chaos of the crash storm is unable to reach reach your ears, the vacuum of space too great a barrier even for that level of destruction. The oppresive silence is your backdrop as you consider the disturbing implications of a such a crash. The situation doesn't make sense. Under normal circumstances, a navigational mishap is the only explanation for something like this. The ship, or in this case the space station, made a jump into some some relative stationary target and destroyed itself.

You turn back to the station. It looms in front of you, growing larger as you appreach. The slow change really doesn't do your breakneck speed justice. You're still looking forward to surviving that crash.

You ponder the patchwork of starship grade metals. The various hues of gray and silver are cobbled together to form the station's superstructures. Although they're marred by the asteroid strike, they're still familiar enough to you. You know this station. There's no way it made a jump.

File: entrance.jpg (371 KB, 1500x812)

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The station has floated here for ages. It has never been jump capable and never will be. It's hard to impress upon someone how difficult it would be to make such a thing happen. First, you'd need a huge jump drive, powrful enough to jump the whole station. Then you'd need to sync it. With this station, that might not even be possible. There's a reason starship hulls are usually built 100% in-system. Next, you'd have to shield the whole station. That's doable. Many stations are shielded, but you'd also need to unify that shielding. With something this big and disparate, that task could take months. Finally, you'd need to find the energy to make a system jump. You'd sooner believe in fairytales.

Incidentally, fairytales are your prevailing alternative theory. The stationary party in a hyper-lightspeed exchange is always fine. They float away without even a scratch. There is, however, one story where that isn't the case. A ship, or perhaps an asteroid, is used to cripple the defenses of some unsuspecting population. They're taken by suprise. Maybe a distress signal goes out, but there's never a big fight. By the time help arrives, they've vanished. It seems you're in that tale right now. You're caught in the middle of some sort of mysterious ritual that literally comes out of a spacer's book of ghost stories.

You might hope to be the witness. They always survive. You'll spin a yarn about the abandoned station. Your tone will grow hushed. You'll whisper about the dark footprints that stained the gorund. Your eyes will widen as you describe cryptic runes and images of twisted skulls. Superstitious folks will share your deep feeling of unease as your story comes to a close, at least until they have a few more drinks. The experiences will never really leave you, but you'll be alive.

This is all assuming you can even survive your landing. You've reached your destination in the time you've spent pondering. Your speed is much more apparent now that you're so close. You headed straight for the back wall of a blown out cargo area. There's no blue glow to indicate the presence of atmosphere in the exposed room.

Your ship barrels forward. Your breath is thin. You're out of time. You wonder if the grin you can't wipe off your face is because of the oxygen deprivation. You push off the front of your ship. Your timing is not ideal.

You and your spacecraft shoot past the threshold of the station. Gravity takes you before you reach the ragged edge of your ship. The explosion takes you soon after. The cushion of air pressure barely slows you down. A wall slams painfully into you. The floor greets you soon after.

The ache in your body is nothing compared to the ache in your lungs. Your gasping breaths give no relief. You crawl and hobble towards the fresh hole in the wall. The blue glow shining like the water of life. You cross the threshold disengage your helmet.

Drips of water from the fire system patter on your exposed face. You gulp down air and water the same. You cough weakly.

>Sleep
>Send for help
>Get up (3d10 vs DC 20)

>>2298947
>Sleep

>>2298947
>Get up (3d10 vs DC 20)

>>2298955
Feel free to roll now. It doesn't really matter whether that influences the vote.

Rolled 10, 8, 7 = 25 (3d10)

>>2298960
sure have this 30

Rolled 1, 10, 7 = 18 (3d10)

>>2298960

Rolled 2, 5, 3 = 10 (3d10)

>>2298947
>Get up (3d10 vs DC 20)

>>2298948
>Sleep

>>2298955
>>2298989
>I've fallen and I can't get up!

25, 18, 10 vs DC 20
Failure isn't enough, unfortunately. Writing.

>>2299141
>They still have no idea you're around. You're still a ghost, and it's easy for ghosts to get away: You are the Trickster

>>2299141
>They still have no idea you're around. You're still a ghost, and it's easy for ghosts to get away: You are the Trickster

You've taken a beating today. The worst of your life. Your head aches as much as any of the rest of your your body. Your suit bears several cracks. Your arm won't move. The armguards won't disengage and your armor is too stiff from the impact dampening.

No... Wait. You just don't have the strength to lift it. Your whole being is sluggish. A moment of effort tries to bring you to your feet. Off your back, at least. But it doesn't. You... try harder. Nothing. You'll just have to-. You'll take a nap.

---

Voices pierce through the air. They pierce through your head.

"Is the Witness dead?" a rasping voice sounds. It hangs in the air. The weight of the words rest heavily on the listeners.

The response comes from a clear voice. Proper, confident. "I blew that ship to pieces. I am certain the pilot was destroyed."

"I'm not so sure." A lighter tone. Melodic, but with something off about it. "The wreckage was still moving. I dunno, something was going on there."

"Even so." The clear voice. "It crashed into the station. An impure vessel with an impure pilot would be unable to survive an impact such as that."

"Alright, ok. You're right. It won't matter for long anyways, right?" The third voice assents.

"What of the others? Does the Flaw still evade you? It seems that one remains a step ahead at all times." The proper tone. "And that's not all, does the Interloper's beast not still-"

"I got the Interloper. The beast'll be easy." The melodic voice is colored by frustration, lined with malignance. "I don't know how the Flaw is doing it, but I'm faster and better. It'll be over soon. After that we'll be unimpeded."

"Indeed." The harsh voice returns to the converstation. "Preparations are proceeding as expected." The words hang over you. You didn't like that conversation one bit.

Actually that's not true, there was one bit of the conversation you liked.
>They underestimated your beast. A more dependable ally than any man. You'll be free soon: The Interloper
>They don't know why you can guess their every step. To be fair, you don't either: The Flaw
>They still have no idea you're around. You're still a ghost, and it's easy for ghosts to get away: The Trickster

>>2299150
>They still have no idea you're around. You're still a ghost, and it's easy for ghosts to get away: The Trickster

>>2299149
>>2299155
You are the Trickster. You are sneaking around the station. Writing now.

assfaggots

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You're not quite sure what the deal with these guys is. They showed up not too long ago. They slammed an asteroid into the station, somehow knocked everybody out, then started wandering around doing who knows what. You don't know who they are or how they did it. The only reason you weren't a part of it was because you were out on a space walk when they came by. Your boots were really put to the test when they rocked the station, literally.

You came in the airlock and found everyone unconscious. You knew something was up, so you didn't say a thing. That Flaw girl didn't have the same sense. She's been blabbing on the comms about her location. The heavens only know how she hasn't been captured yet. Also, why didn't she get knocked out with everyone else?

The strange situation doesn't really matter to you. Unlike her, you have the good sense to leave well enough alone. Sometimes, of course, leaving alone requires a bit of maneuvering. You've got the whole station's comms routed to your computer. You can hear everything that's going on. You take care to not be wherever things are happening.

Right now, it just so happens that an angry lady is coming your way. The footprints she stains on the floor unsettle you. You slink away in the other direction. You move perpendicular to her and the other girl. Better that girl than you. The lights go out behind you. You make sure to leave not trace of your presence.

You've been moving about the damaged part of the station. The hallway you're in now is definitely the worse for wear. This part of the station was never particularly upper class, but the damage it's sustained has made everything worse. Before, the walls were rusty and the halls were dim. Now, the walls are bent. Even this far into the station, the impact has moved the metal. Conduits have shaken loose from their holders. Errant sparks illuminate the spaces around you as much as the lights. At least the vital systems are still on.

Gravity in some places has gone out. You've fortunately still got your magnetic boots from your space walk. They're a bit unwieldly, but its worth it. You try to be careful of the sound. You know where they are and aren't listening, but these metal halls carry noise farther than you'd like. You're already a bit closer that you'd like to be.

Those creepy guys have a line into a lot of the comms and video systems as well. You haven't been able to find a clean path to the nice side of the station because of it. That, and you've been busy setting up your spy network. It's nice to have your boss' administrative access to the whole station.

Beyond not getting caught, you're still figuring out a plan. They've been quite vague about what they're planning to do to everyone. You're also not sure where all the people on their team are. The heavy smoker doesn't seem to be anywhere on the station. They've got a third guy walking around, but he never says a word you're pretty sure.

Ideally, you'd ditch the station, look out for number one. You've got no good path to the intact docking bay though. All the obvious ones are being monitored. You could go back to the maintenance airlock and walk there from outside the station, but they'd notice that in a heartbeat, even if you would get there unobstructed. Even if you did, though, they can shoot down any ship. You'd need to shut down the station's anti-ship batteries. That's not to mention that you don't actually know how to fly a ship. You could probably figure it out though. You've operated heavy machinery and that's pretty much the same, right?

You could try to take them all out, but you have a feeling that wouldn't go well. That interloper guy was a hunter, and he lost. Still, if you had some overwhelming advantage, you might be able to pull it off. You're not much of a fighter, but what if you took control of the entire station? Gravity, atmosphere, fire systems, and so on. If you could hook your computer into the station core then you'd be able to take on an army. You could just eject them from the station if they were in the right spot. They'd certainly notice you on the way to the core, but once you're there, would it matter?

That crash they were talking about also changes things. They say they killed the guy, but you're not so sure you believe that. He was piloting a one man fighter without any sort of support. His ship had its own jump drive. It probably didn't have defensive shields. You have to be tough as nails and a little crazy in the head to fly around in something like that.

Those kinds of people have a way of sticking around. The surveillance in that area's been taken out so you can't be certain, but you bet if you went there you'd find him still kicking. Maybe what you need is an ally. That could be your edge. Plus, it'd be easy to get there without unwanted attention, unlike with the other two people conscious non-crazies walking around.

You're not sure what else to do. You'd rather not wait around to find out what they want with this station and its inhabitants. You make your decision.

>Work towards getting a ship and fleeing. You'll get to the armory and muck with the weapon control systems.

>Work towards making the station your personal weapon. You'll sneak your way to the core and hook in to every system on the station. Hell, you could even disable weapons that way, if you want to take a ship.

>Go grab an ally. You bet that pilot is alive. You need one anyways if you're going to get off the station. You can't fly a ship.

>Write-in

>>2299481
>Work towards making the station your personal weapon. You'll sneak your way to the core and hook in to every system on the station. Hell, you could even disable weapons that way, if you want to take a ship.

>>2299481
>Work towards making the station your personal weapon. You'll sneak your way to the core and hook in to every system on the station. Hell, you could even disable weapons that way, if you want to take a ship.

>>2299481
>Work towards making the station your personal weapon. You'll sneak your way to the core and hook in to every system on the station. Hell, you could even disable weapons that way, if you want to take a ship.
A tragic accident voided everyone else on board and all the ships were stolen to a convenient location only we know. A station this big should have enough loot in it to let a man live his life in some luxury if he's only intelligent enough to seize it.

>>2299485
>>2299489
>>2299511
>home field advantage

Writing.

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You know, this is a pretty serious opportunity. You hadn't really thought about it before, but the station is ripe for the taking. All you need to do is take out four random people. You don't really know what they're capable of, but how could they possibly fight you if you control everything?

If you're in danger you can just seal the doors. Want to fight? Just turn off the gravity. Vent the room they're in. Lure them to the engine rooms and burn them alive. When you're inside the station, it's an unbeatable weapon.

Once they're dealt with, you can take whatever you want. You're not sure you're capable of mass murder, but who's going to blame you for missing valuables, even missing ships? If you want, you can be the hero. If you don't, you could squirrel away enough valuables to set yourself up for life. You can retire at your young age and live like nobility. The high life. All you need to do is beat four random people.

Random, very dangerous people. You don't let the excitement get to your head. You've been careful so far. You're a careful man. Take it slow. Getting to the core is no easy task. You need a plan. You've made your way to a comms checkpoint.

There are several abandoned consoles in the room. Their operators have been taken away to wherever it is everyone is being kept. Dark footprints lead out of the room and behind doors you don't vision past. There are fewer comms and no cameras in private areas. Presumably, the man with the rasping voice is watching over them. Maybe they're all dead.

Morbid though that thought is, it really would make things easier for you. Still, you don't feel any particular emnity towards the stations inhabitants, except people who don't cycle their gravity properly. Those people can go die. Don't they realize how much strain that puts on the plating? It's a nightmare to maintain.

It only takes a few minutes and administrator access to hook your computer into the sensors in this area. Your station map now should keep updated around here barring further damage. You look over a hologram of the station. Since you're at a comms checkpoint, it's actively updated. The sensor systems are remarkably intact after the asteroid strike.

You suppose the space station has a lot of redundancy because of the cobbled together nature of the thing. Only the heavens know how much time you've wasted forcing those systems to work together properly. Once you're rich, you won't have to deal with a poorly planned monstrosity and its jury rigged expansions. You'll live on a planet, or at least on something built in-system.

File: silent guy.jpg (74 KB, 361x750)

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You need to get to the core. Fortunately, there are more options for that than normal. The asteroid strike has opened up a brand new shortcut to the lower maintenance section. To get there that way, you'll need a space suit though. You know those guys have their eyes on the airlock and the attached locker room, but there's no other good place to find a space suit. You doubt you'll have any luck trying to loot random private rooms.

You can alternatively take a direct path. Bringing up the camera feeds, you see that the silent guy is wandering around that area. His footprints on the ground indicate that he's been patrolling for whatever reason. In a stroke of luck, it seems that the man they've been calling the Interloper is headed that way too. He's escaped the private area he was presumably confined in. Now he's running with his large black cat, some sort of jungle beast. He heads towards the silent guy.

They haven't noticed his escape yet, or you'd have heard about it. They've also said nothing about the Flaw girl. She's no longer on the cameras, and dark footprints line the floor in the area she was last. You were just near there. You wonder what her plan is, going to the most damaged area of the space station. She certainly didn't have a space suit.

Your last option is the maintenance shafts. They're some of the most damaged parts of the station near the core, which is ironic considering their purpose. You don't know if it'd be safe to traverse them. Gravity is seeping in irregularly from other parts of the station. Their walls are lined with exposed high voltage wiring. They're a risky proposition all around. You curse the poorly designed nature of the station once again. This is really just like your job. Frankly if you wanted to get through safely, you'd like a space suit for this too.

You don't really have any other options. You opt to:

>Grab your space suit from the maintenance airlock area. You'll head outside and approach the core from the damaged area. Hopefully they won't notice your presence. If they do, hopefully you can get away fast enough.

>Go through the main hallways. Let that hunter and his huge cat be a distraction for you. You can use administrator priveleges to lock the doors behind you, which will hopefully give you enough time to hijack the whole system.

>Go through the maintenance shafts. Usually you want a comms buddy on the outside routing you through and disabling power in the dangerous areas, but you can probably do that yourself while you're going. It's not safe, but you'd rather risk electrocution than get killed by a bunch of creepy pirates wearing black power armor.

>>2299760
>Go through the main hallways. Let that hunter and his huge cat be a distraction for you. You can use administrator priveleges to lock the doors behind you, which will hopefully give you enough time to hijack the whole system.

>>2299760
>Go through the maintenance shafts. Usually you want a comms buddy on the outside routing you through and disabling power in the dangerous areas, but you can probably do that yourself while you're going. It's not safe, but you'd rather risk electrocution than get killed by a bunch of creepy pirates wearing black power armor.
With enough rubber you can be invulnerable to falls and electricity!

Alright, I'm actually going to stop it here for tonight. I'll be back with an update tomorrow roughly 15 hours from now.

In the mean time, please roll 3d10 for me. I'll leave the vote open even though it probably won't change. The roll will stand for whichever option stands.

Rolled 5, 1, 1 = 7 (3d10)

>>2299823

Rolled 3, 9, 1 = 13 (3d10)

>>2299823

>>2299826
>>2299829
Wow, characters in this quest have some pretty mediocre rolls. Anyways one thing I wanted to mention before I check out is that write-ins are always an option. I always just forget to include it as a choice. Feel free to propose superior ideas. Maybe they'll let you bypass your terrible luck.

Also ask any questions you might have and I'll try to get around to answering them eventually.

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Rolled 3, 4, 6 = 13 (3d10)

>>2299760
>Grab your space suit from the maintenance airlock area. You'll head outside and approach the core from the damaged area. Hopefully they won't notice your presence. If they do, hopefully you can get away fast enough.

>>2299760
>Grab your space suit from the maintenance airlock area. You'll head outside and approach the core from the damaged area. Hopefully they won't notice your presence. If they do, hopefully you can get away fast enough.

>>2299769
>die from electrocution

>>2299763
>die from bullet wounds

>>2302326
>>2302358
>attract their attention but remain alive

7, 13, 13 vs DC 13
Low risk low reward wins the day! Regular success!

RIP OP.

>>2303847
I'll probably be dead soon, but not just yet.

The thought occurs to you that the maintenance shaft would be a fair bit safer if you had some insulation. A suit of metal or rubber to fend off electricity would go a long way. Dangerous falls would hurt less too. This train of thought leads you right back to a space suit. Your maintenance equipment has most of that. Since you won't actually be maintaining anything, fine motor control doesn't really matter.

Unfortunately, the airlock is one of the easiest places in the station to monitor. If there's ever an accident, medics need to be dispatched. Any severe hull failure is likely to end up mattering there. Authorization needs to be checked. Equipment status is tracked. Gravity, inertia, pressure, atmospheric composition, all monitored. If there's anyone looking at any surveillance, they'll notice you. If there's nobody looking, they'll probably still notice you unless you're fast. It was only because you were so quick after the whole station went down that you were able to get through the first time.

Since you've decided to grab your gear, you might as well take the safer, shorter, and harder to block path. You'll walk the hull. Your map of the station shows a breach only a couple blocks out from the core. You'll have a short run to it once you're back in the station. Prior to that, there's no way you'll be stopped.

You depart for the airlock.

-

The room flashes red as alarms blare. Your right hand fumbles with your left armguard, nervous energy turning the practiced motion into an agitated scrabble. The seal closes slowly. Finally the armored panel renders the computer screen beneath it. Your suit hisses shut. So much for speed.

You pop the airlock. The sound cuts out. As you step out onto the hull, you wonder vaguely if they tried to lock you in. I wouldn't matter. Manual override always beats station controls. You would like to know how much trouble you're in though. Your computer was busy syncing up with the suit, so you missed any conversation they might have had. You only get the tail end of it now.

"-- is departing the station!" The proper voice yells, tinged with rage.

The rasping voice crackles through your computer. His exerted breathing conducts through your suit and mingles with your own. "Return to the batteries. No vessels are present, but a trickster such as he could possess a cloaked ship." Your suit feels tighter, more crouded. The statement lingers in your air. "The stars will see all. As soon as he makes a move, destroy him."

"Speaking of seeing all." The woman's voice bursts in a little to quickly. It drains some of the weight from the man's words. Her callousness almost saps his authority. Your suit lightens up. "Our ritual's flaw is hiding. Can you get the stars to point her out to me? This place is falling apart and I could use a few more eyes on my side."

"You know that the phrase was not literal, correct?" The rage is gone from the proper man's voice, only genuine concern and confusion remains.

"Don't be so sure." The rasping voice. "Within the metaphor is an elemen--"

The woman cuts him off with an exasperated sigh. "If you've got nothing to say then shut up. I'm close. I need to focus."

Her comm clicks. The others follow. The last thing you hear is hearty laughter from a voice you don't recognize. You keep your computer on, but shift its focus to your active map. Your connection isn't as great out here, but you've still got the outer hull's current state. As you zoom to your current area your foot slips. Your magnetized soles find no purchase on the soft, rubbery insulation below you. You twist and catch your hand on the nearest hull plate.

You need to remain more vigilant. This is a long walk. There's nobody else out here to rescue you if you go flying into space.

---

As their conversation about stars terminates, you hear foodsteps plodding towards you. The sound of metal on metal, distorted by the twisted halls, or perhaps by something more sinister. Someone is coming for you. What they don't realize is that you've already prepared for them.

You are:

>The Witness

>The Flaw

>The Interloper

>>2304923
>The Flaw

>>2304923
>The Flaw

>>2304923
>The Flaw

>>2304941
>>2304964
>>2304965
>you get a resource pool!

I've got class, but I'll be writing this post eventually.

The voices in your head have stopped. Their final words echo through your skull, not quite painful, but uncomfortable nonetheless. You pause for a moment. The world blurs. You take several deep breaths. Focus on the situation. What's important is that the location of your pursuer remains. You need to keep it together. Being afraid isn't going to help you right now.

You can feel that woman's presence approaching like a buzzing siren song. You're pulled in it. The darkness in the hallway closes in around you. The instincts inside you say that something is horribly wrong. Their response is to freeze. The primal terror in your heart clashes with the urges being forced through your head. Your body tenses, conflicted. You can't move. You breath in. You blink. You blink. You shut it out.

Step forward. You know things are horribly wrong. Step forward. But what's important is that you're not done yet. Step. You don't understand these compulsions. Step. But they're a compass telling you what not to do. Another step. You're better than their magic. You're using it against them. You're better than them. You're prepared for whatever else gets thrown at you. You keep walking.

The hall you just came from is a wreck of hot, twisted metal. It's slow going. The woman chasing you is wasting her time in it. As she does, you reach your destination: a crash landing. Your new ally awaits. With a daring pilot at your side you won't have to figure things out alone. The pounding of your heart becomes less pronounced. Your heaving lungs calm.

They start again when you see his splayed out form. The occupied armor lying on the floor shatters your plans. You fall to your knees. What are you going to do? Who can you turn to for help, the man who just fled the station? You have no idea what you're supposed to be doing. All you ever wanted was to sleep somewhere comfortable. You just wanted to have a nice meal every day, find work. Instead everyone you've ever known is unconscious, possibly dead. Your one ray of hope is dead too, just like you overheard them saying. You're finished. You're-

You're interrupted when the pilot's head tilts forward slightly. "Young miss! What's a girl of your young age doing in a place like this? You're not safe here!" What?

"What?"

He gives a hearty laugh. "There's a fight brewing! Cultists! A ritual to call out to a dark god in the stars! You ought to find somewhere to hide while I show them what for. The battlefield is no place for children." His lifeless starfish pose hasn't changed, but his head bobs enthusiastically as he speaks.

You're dumbstruck. Absurdly, your first impulse is to correct him about your age. You aren't a child. There are more pressing matters. You've snapped out of your panic, but really has the situation improved at all? How is he going to 'show them what for' from the ground? Is this some sort of ruse, he's waiting to catch them off guard? "Can you even stand?" You ask, incredulity replacing your fear.

The laugh he gives you this time has a slightly awkward cadence. No then. "I don't suppose you could help me up?" No, things are not good.

Someone save you, what are you going to do? The buzzing in your head is getting closer. You have no capable allies. There's no plan, and now there's a dark god? Either he's incoherent, or things just got that much worse. You'll believe anything though; you've seen and felt the magic first hand. It's over.

Your mind races with unproductive thoughts. You should have gotten more sleep a day ago. You wish you had the courage to stow away on a ship. You wish you had said thanks to some of the doomed people on this station.

As your thoughts rush through you, you robotically step forward. With stiff motions, you grab the man's arm and pull him up. Remarkably, he's able to walk with significant help from you. The extra weight is nothing compared to how heavy the atmosphere around you feels. It's like the converters have gone overdrive to make up for the nearby breach. There isn't actually more air though. You know its in your head.

The two of you hobble forward aimlessly. While you walk, the man speaks animatedly. He waves his pistol around with his left arm, still hanging off of you. "Anyways I've got to do something about these unreasonable fellows. They've got it out for everyone who's ever jumped between systems. They're a cult and their god, you see, says it's trespassing!" His head bobs. "Trespassing! Yes, you see, people aren't supposed to travel through the heavens, or so they say. I say it's silly! It's part of society! They can't well go and kill everyone, you know?"

You're not quite so sure. You have no idea what they're capable of.

He continues. "Most everyone's traveled through space at some point. I have, I'm sure you have, even at your tender age. That's why they're here at a space station. It's a shame they happened to choose yours, but fortunate all the same, because now I'm here!"

He continues babbling, but you're distractd by this last statement. You've never been off the station. You were born here. You've got nobody to take you anywhere else. Sure, you haven't really had the opportunity to leave, but you could have made the opportunity. You tell yourself you want to go. You wonder though, if you had a ship like his, could you ever muster the courage to use it? You wish you could just afford passage on a cruiser or something.

Your thoughts and his speech are interrupted when you stop. The urge to turn back takes you. Your stiff footsteps shift direction, interrupting your aimless wandering. A bewitching buzzing rings in the back of your skull.

"Is something wrong?" You're snapped back to coherence by the pilot. He hangs on your shoulder, shifted awkwardly from the unexpected reverse.

"There's someone coming from behind us."

"Ah! You're turning to fight! How can you tell they are coming?" Comes his excited response.

You don't really know how you know. From the cultists' conversations it seems like they didn't have any intenition to give you this ability. They certainly didn't mean to give you the ability to hear their conversations in your head. Frankly, you should have been knocked out like the people in the room with you. Them and everyone else in the station. What made you different?

You don't tell him your life story. All you say is "Actually, I can sort of sense where they're coming from."

"Exciting!" Crazed though he might be, his enthused responses really do help defuse the situation for you.

"Terrifying, more like."

"What's the difference?" His response isn't what you expected. In retrospect, you don't know why.

You leave his question in the air. The two of you stand in the empty hall. Flickering lights, creaking metal, defunct control panels, sparking wires and the looming danger contrast sharply with the lighthearted tone your new pilot friend is forcing into the conversation. God, you don't even know anything about him and you wanted him to give you a plan. What, were you hoping his blown up ship would take you off the station? Would you even want to fly in it? Could you even leave everyone behind like that?

Content that you haven't got anything left to say, the pilot breaks the silence again. "Alright miss, let me off. It's time for a fight! Your bravery is admirable, but the battlefield is no place for children."

That's crazy. "That's crazy." You vocalize your thoughts. "There's no way you can handle a fight in your state." As if to prove your point, his legs buckle slightly, increasing the weight on your shoulder.

"Nonsense." He's unfazed by his physical condition. "Our pursuer is a villain. I am a hero. My victory is assured!"

Oh dear. He's more crazed than you thought. "That's not how things work."

"Nonsense, of course it is! But, I won't stop you if you're standing with me." He pushes gently off you. His legs tremble for a moment like a robot losing power, but they steady. You wonder what he could possibly hope to do. Still, there's no arguing with him. You're strangely calm considering how fucked this situation is.

What are you going to do?

>Ditch him. This was a mistake from the start. You don't know how, but you'll find some other way to get out of this alive.

>Force him to stand down. (Roll 3d10) The two of you will hide in a room and wait it out. You'll find some better option. You can go get a ship and flee this station, or at least wait until he's not a light breeze away from falling helplessly to the floor.

>Fight. (Roll 3d10+4) Things are only going to get worse; what do you have to lose? It's two on one, you might even have a chance.

>Write-in

Rolled 4, 2, 3 + 4 = 13 (3d10 + 4)

>>2307662
>>Fight. (Roll 3d10+4) Things are only going to get worse; what do you have to lose? It's two on one, you might even have a chance.

>>2307662
>Ditch him. This was a mistake from the start. You don't know how, but you'll find some other way to get out of this alive.

Rolled 5, 1, 5 + 4 = 15 (3d10 + 4)

>>2307662
>Fight. (Roll 3d10+4) Things are only going to get worse; what do you have to lose? It's two on one, you might even have a chance.
If you can't believe in yourself then believe in the crazed lunatic with a gun that believes in you!

Rolled 5, 1, 8 + 4 = 18 (3d10 + 4)

>>2307662
>Fight. (Roll 3d10+4) Things are only going to get worse; what do you have to lose? It's two on one, you might even have a chance.
>>Write-in
You know where your enemies are coming from set an ambush and or a trap.

>>2307662
>Take away his pistol, then tell him he can't fight without it so you both need to hide.

>>2307665
>>2307696
>>2307730
>You can probably handle this

>>2307671
>You can definitely handle this

>>2307734
>All sane people will live. The number of sane people is between 1 and 2.

I'll say you get another +2 bonus because you'll set up some sort of trap and burst out of a room. That makes the rolls.
15, 17, and 20 vs DC 21
Severe Failure!

Fortunately for you, failure is not set in stone for this character. Like I said before, you have a resource pool.

>????: 15/15

You can spend ???? to increase the result of a roll by 1 per 1 spent.

With that in mind. There's a new vote.
>Spend 1 for Regular Failure (21, 17, 15 vs DC 21)
>Spend 5 for Regular Success (21, 21, 15 vs DC 21)
>Spend 11 for Great Success (21, 21, 21 vs DC 21)

As a character, you don't really know what this is or how you're doing it, so you don't know what the terrible, terrible consequences for spending too much or running out might be, if they exist.

>>2307780
>Spend 5 for Regular Success (21, 21, 15 vs DC 21)

>>2307780
>Spend 5 for Regular Success (21, 21, 15 vs DC 21)

>>2307780
>Spend 5 for Regular Success (21, 21, 15 vs DC 21)

>>2307780
>Spend 1 for Regular Failure (21, 17, 15 vs DC 21)

>>2307785
>>2307786
>>2307787
>live within your means

>>2307797
>accept that failure is an option

I'll get to writing this, but the next post is probably tomorrow again, partly because I have class, but mostly because I'm lazy.

You got what you wanted didn't you? An ally? You could disarm him, but he's got a critically low amount of reason to appeal to. He won't stand down. At that point, what would you do with his weapon? Fight? Leaving him to die doesn't sit well with you anyways.

Just because you're going to fight, though, doesn't mean you need to do it suicidally. Maybe you can muster up enough reason for both of you. You think cooly through a plan. You know the exact location of your pursuer. Nevermind how it feels to be so close, you'll ambush her point blank. Find an area you can control. Fight near blast doors. Cut her off mid fight if there's danger. Start by bursting out of a room. Use a door or metal panel to jump on her. Fight near exposed wiring. You don't have time to jury rig any serious traps, but anything will do. As long as you know more about the immediate environment, you'll have that much more of an advantage. You'll pick up a makeshift weapon too.

You've decided. The two of you will just go a bit further. Your surroundings are damaged enough that you should be able to find an appropriate spot easily. Maybe not the blast doors, you suppose."

You speak up, plan crystallized. We should--". Your voice cracks. That's right isn't it? You can't handle this. You were distracted for a moment, but the situation comes crashing back into you. You've exceeded your quota for bravery. Just this idea of the fight is more than you've ever had to handle.

"Hm?" The pilot turns his head expectantly. He stands up straight, chest out, but with his arms hanging loosely his side. The courageous appearance tempered by the sorry state of the man putting it on. How bad are his injuries? He couldn't even stand. He's going to kill himself fighting and you can't even say three words.

You need to be a voice of reason. "We should set up an ambush." Your voice is quiet, but your words are clear. "We can go up ahead, wait in a room, and jump out on her when she's walking by." You swallow nervously.

"Aha! A bit of skullduggery. I prefer facing the enemy head on, but since you're hopping in then we can do it your way. There are some merits to safety. Lead on!" He goes along with you cheerfully. Was he implying that his strategy was equally valid?

You head forward once again, this time looking for a good place to hide.

-

You crowd up against the crumpled door. The pipe in your hands is already slick with sweat. You should have found some sort of binding to work as a grip. The buzz of electronics outside mixes with the buzz in your head. It's louder than it's ever been before. You grit your teeth. Your target is nearly here.

You ignore the urge to reveal yourself. Rather than be near in body, you are near in mind. You pay close attention to the distance, the bored footsteps. The frustration at being assigned such a simple task. Is one girl such a big deal? You can't help but think that your task is a farce.

File: enemy.jpg (68 KB, 309x750)

68 KB JPG

The magic is 'disrupted', the stars aren't 'right'. It's all mumbo jumbo. They're just jerking you around because you're the newest member, making you go find some kid. You'd think they were laughing at you too if they weren't so completely incapable of humor. The only person who'd laugh is stuck out on grunt work like you. The frustration boils inside you.

>????: 13/15

You feel her pace. You see her location. "Almost."

"Understood." The pilot's voice behind you. A whisper, but still somehow maintaining a note of glee.

She arrives. "Now!" You tackle the dilapidated metal. It screeches easily out of the frame. You've already removed everything holding it there besides friction.

You launch forward into the cultist in front of you. She's taken by surprise and knocked off balance, barely avoiding being pinned beneath the metal. You fall, vulnerable, but the bark of a pistol sounds before your foe can capitalize. The noise fills the cramped space. Bullets fly. Upon making contact, however, they disappoint. The only evidence they leave behind are harmless wisps of dark smoke sliding off the points of impact on the woman's armor. She regains her balance, unharmed.

The pilot remains in a disciplined stance, emptying his pistol into her chest. There is no effect. The woman takes notice of her invulnerability. Rather than pull out one of the knives at her side, she smirks and raises her arms. Jet black smoke gathers. The room exudes it. The walls, the floor, the woman herself all undulate with opaque, impenetrable smoke. It twists around her and at her feet. She leave the ground, rising slowly. You scramble to your feet in turn.

Electrocution is only a few short steps away in this cramped space. Her smugness hasn't taken into account the damaged environment. You charge her, pipe first. You hit, hard. A dull clang sounds in your ears. You hands tremor with the impact. Your target is completely unmoved. You might as well have struck a support beam.

Her attention turns to you. An errant gesture flicks in your direction. A strand of smoke flutters. You're thrown bodily backwards, a wave of force flings you into the air. You skip across the floor. Unpleasant thuds carry through the hall with each bounce. You roll to a stop, lying in a heap. A trail of black smoke follows you, tracing your impromptu flight. Oppressive silence suffuses the room, smoke absorbing sound almost as readily as it absorbs light.

The scene is bleak, literally and figuratively. The shadowy smoke absorbs the light from the room. Each strand is an empty void. The narrow space grows more claustrophobic. The cultist in turn fills the room. Darkness sliding along form. Her blades remain sheathed, and instead two metal spheres orbit her. The walls writhe in time with the motion.

You catch a smug thought about fixing others' mistakes. A notion of cold scheming. She's already moved on to her next plan. Her grin is cold.

File: space skull .jpg (164 KB, 1280x769)

164 KB JPG

A bolt of glowing energy rips through her side. You catch a glimpse of the pilot shaking off his pistol. Regular steam rises to accompany the occultic blackness filling the room. More of it pours from the fresh wound. Cold satisfaction is replaced by boiling rage. A smug grin graces your face.

You're impressed out how professional the pilot seems. His actions in this short fight have been steady. His voice cuts through the silence. "Parlor tricks and cheap scares can't dissuade me! I'll swat you out of the air like a--"

His moment of victory is interrupted. One of the floating orbs punches into him, launching him out of sight. He still calls back: "-- feeble moth!"

Anger billows off the the cultist. It is accompanied by a rush of ink smoke. The smog rises around you. It surrounds you, forcing itself into your space. A metal orb flies with it. At the last moment, you notice the projectile. It speeds towards your face. You raise your pipe to block, but your grip is slick. You lose your hold. The pipe flies away.

You see the orb in front of your face. Then black ink.

-

Isn't there something deeper in the dark? You look, but it's just black. You look deeper. Motes of light. Specks in the darkness. You look closer. Luminous spheres blaze, a tide of stars in an ocean of ink. Is this space? You look around, what you see is more light than dark now. A new scene: a terrifying visage. A glowing skull or starlight. Its presence occupies the space all around you: the ink all around you.

Ink? It occurs to you that you shouldn't be thinking at all. Wasn't your head smashed? Wasn't the ink a cloud of misfortune? You snap out of it. You blink. You blink. Your vision clears.

A metal sphere floats in front of your face. You notice it. It falls to the floor. Around you, smoke fills the narrow corridor. Darkness thrashes along the walls. You notice it. It grows still. The smoke fades. The hall grows spacious. The sight of the woman ahead of you no longer suffocates the room.

>????: 11/15

You run to the woman floating in the air. You feet are pulled towards the floor. Your steps are normal. You notice that gravity is still on. You tackle her to the floor. The two of you land in a jumble of twisted limbs, but you extricate yourself swiftly. She's still too confused by taking a hit like that to do anything.

You stand. With an effort of recollection you bring her orb to bear. It soars across the open space to align with your fist. It floats silently, primed for a punch. The target is your defeated foe's face.

>????: 10/15

The pilot stumbles up behind you. He speaks for your team. "You are defeated, fiend! Yield!" His voice resounds in the liberated area. His pistol glows with energy.

You feel frustration and shame boil off the woman in front of you. She says nothing.

>Execute her. No mercy.
>Take her as a prisoner. Ask about her plans. Tie her up somewhere and/or keep her as a hostage.
>Disarm her and walk away. This fight is over.

>>2313990
>Execute her. No mercy.

>>2313990
>Execute her. No mercy.

>>2313990
>Execute her. No mercy.
Fatality.

>>2313990
>Take her as a prisoner. Ask about her plans. Then execute her.

Rip quest