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>>5864201
You read the status report while sipping herbal tea. What sort of cultivar is this? Green tea, black tea, maybe matcha? You never had much of a taste for tea before, but that might change soon if all tea in Liteia is like this. You help yourself to the few remaining bite-sized balls of sweet sticky rice before setting the breakfast tray aside. You would be more picky if you were still on Luna, but now you just feel glad that you are not stuck with food-processing-studded algae bars. At least not yet.

You lean around the corner of the partition to the common mess hall, hoping for a miracle. Nope, not even God can move the long line waiting before the soft serve ice cream machine. There's Dornholm, bandage wrapped all around her body like a thick coat and a cuirass's worth of bone casts on top. There's Johnson, whistling a wet tune and tapping beat to an old shanty. There's Achebe, stuffing as much ice cream into his mouth as quickly as possible so he could run off back to his post, streaks of white still rolling down his shirt. He should take a cue from Moynihan instead, who is probably enjoying a sundae while coolly monitoring all sensors right now. But then again, it is rather hot and sweat-sticky down there in the reactor room. There are also many whose faces you did not recognise, guests from Ienaga's. Most likely, your own men are also lining up before the Japanese drink-dispensers over there as well. Elysium is passing by, wait, is that kid cutting the line? Before you can yell at him, a stern cough seizes the boy. Silas looks up from his tablet in what you could only imagine as the most blood-chilling stare possible. Like a puppy, he returns to his rightful place at the end of the ever lengthening line. Well, looks like you will have to ask one of the cooks to bring you a cup afterwards.

Later that day, you and Ienaga meet up to discuss future plans, each holding a cup of sundae in hand. He likes banana as well, good. You present to him your discovery of a local pirate base, “These outlaws, egg-eaters as the Qyngur calls them, could prove valuable allies. This far out from the Director's light.” Suppressing a smirk, you continue, “I'm sure there won't be any complaints. Enemy of enemy and all that.”

>>5864208
Ienaga listens to you intently, his hand deftly cleaving a slice of banana in half, surrounding it in just enough ice cream to not overflow, manoeuvring a piece of cookie on top, before finally delivering the package to its waiting receiver. He did not look down once. His military fatigues remains spotless, meanwhile yours is already dotted here and there. Perhaps your first impression of him has been too hasty. This latter-day samurai-cum-officer does not exhume dead rituals, in fact, through him memories continue to live forth in all its fragile elegance. Like a perfectly balanced spoonful of ice cream, always on the verge of melting but never quite liquid. Like tradition, constantly torn between imitation and interpretation. Like the past, grasped only in a fleeing moment before one is irresistibly blown forward. Was not the Directorate once greater than it is now? Or will it one day be much greater still? The pensive mood is broken by Ienaga rising from the table, “I will have to consider your proposal further. Tomorrow, I will let you know the answer.” He moves towards the door, his cup now empty, “Your ice cream is melting, Captain Thornton.” You should not think too much while eating ice cream next time.

Before you turn in for the day, there is one final matter to settle. The new addition to your fleet.

>Name your new destroyer.

What should be done with it?

>Rent out the destroyer to local merchants (low risk, low pay)
>Enlist it as an auxiliary vessel for the Navy (higher risk, good pay, has to run entire contract before it became available again)
>Have a skeleton crew move it to your current location (risky due to increased Liberation Front activity, may end up like Sparrow-2)
>Sell the destroyer
>Write-in

>>5864201
Oh shit. I'm hope you're all right.

>>5864213
>Chocolate Rain
>Write-in
Go to it.

>>5864213
>Sell the destroyer
QM curse strikes again.

>>5864213
>Chocolate Rain
>Enlist it as an auxiliary vessel for the Navy (higher risk, good pay, has to run entire contract before it became available again)

>>5864213
>Name your new destroyer
Mint Ice Cream

>Rent out the destroyer to local merchants (low risk, low pay)

>>5864608
+1

>>5864225
>>5864608
>>5865477
>Chocolate Rain
this food theme is making me hungry for some ice cream, even though it's winter

>>5864608
>>5865477
>Navy Auxiliary
>>5864308
>Local Merchants
>>5864225
>Retreat to Liteia
>>5864308
>Ship Market

I forgot to add in the first post, but for this quest the rules are as follows:
>>Writeins are encouraged, even if it doesn't win I might work it into the final decision.
>Votes should be in greentext and linked to my post, otherwise I might miss it.
>When changing your votes, link both your original post and my own to help me keep track of things
I will try to post updates every other day around 9am EST (I live in a different time zone), if I didn't post it at that time for whatever reason I will try to get the post in around 9pm instead.

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>>5866047
“Your request has been processed and approved. The Jaguar-class destroyer CHOCOLATE RAIN will now be assigned to Task Force 23-A of the Second Fleet for the duration of 1 (ONE) YEAR, effectively immediately upon transmission of your cryptokey. The details of this assignment are non-negotiable.” Isn't the Second Fleet currently posted directly opposite Kaskandir Line? You check and indeed it is, right where the light would pass as it flies from the heart of the Restored Qyngur Empire to that of the Liteian Directorate. You put your stamp on the contract and pray that the current uneasy detente would last for at least another year. Surely those insects would not be so foolish as to start another offensive so soon after the abortive siege of Fort Armitage a few months ago. The only consolation was the decent premium.

As he has promised, right on time, the shortwave radio dish on the Yushi points your way, “Apologies, but we have our own commitments. Until we meet again, good luck and long burn. Ienaga, over and out." A shame, really, but understandable. Not many captains want to work with turncoats if they can help it. Before you two part way, Moynihan and Ienaga's comms officers finalise mutual emergency protocols, allowing either of you to piggy-back requests for help on Qyngur communications infrastructure. Most likely, it would only work once before their system administrators detect the intrusion, but better that than never.

Only after the Yushi and Shishi had warped out of system did you realise you forgot to ask what Ienaga knew of your late father. More motivation to stay alive until your next meeting, then.

>>5866049
As the Vanilla Skyline lazily cruises through the void, you settle back into the old routine of hiding in your private room while Silas handles all the day-to-do administrative work. The only difference is that you are handling all the finances now. Amidst issuing pensions to the recently deceased's next-of-kins and keeping up with the Vanilla Skyline's insurance premiums, you notice something odd. Or rather, it is the absence of something which is odd.

Spaceships are expensive, those built for war even more so. For his first command a free captain will either have to convince some venture capital firms to invest in a company, or turn to banks and less reputable alternatives for loans. In the first case, most of his earnings go to the investors; in the second, he must pay by the dotted line. The corps make sure enough rumours of ‘indentured’ mines and ‘biologics harvesting’ clinics spread around to keep these responsibilities on the top of most privateer's lists.

Yet there was no such record that you can find in the system, neither have you received any repossession warnings. There is always the possibility that they were all lost in that fateful ambush, of course. Fortunately, militaries, professional ones anyway, are often quite reluctant to release this sort of vessels to civilians, so there should be records on the Brittanian side to confirm the ship's provenance. Less fortunately, the only rapid communication lines with the Coreworld are all deep within Directorate territory, so you will have to wait until the end of this sortie to do a more thorough investigation.

Your destination the pirate base is well off the beaten track. After playing with 2 of your 1d100 three times, you decide to do something more productive instead.
>You spend more time in VR combat training center to sharpen your tactical skills. (combat bonus applied, +2)
>You pore over history textbooks and expert reports discussing the war. (no bonus)
>You take a more active role around the ship, gaining their respect in the process. (charisma bonus applied, +7)
>Even without a good lead, you can still try to probe the ship's databanks as well as the more human part of its memory, Silas and Moynihan in particular. (half charisma bonus applied, +4)
>Write-in

Rolled 54, 3 = 57 (2d100)

>>5866051
>You take a more active role around the ship, gaining their respect in the process. (charisma bonus applied, +7)

Rolled 14, 77 = 91 (2d100)

>>5866051
>Write-in
>Try to find a way to make money from the rising prices due to the standoff between Bolivarian PM Alvarez and Arabic Emir Al-Saud as well as the High Gothic fashion

Rolled 37, 99 = 136 (2d100)

>>5866051
>>You take a more active role around the ship, gaining their respect in the process. (charisma bonus applied, +7)

Rolled 27, 73 = 100 (2d100)

>>5866051
>You pore over history textbooks and expert reports discussing the war. (no bonus)

>>5866051
>You spend more time in VR combat training center to sharpen your tactical skills. (combat bonus applied, +2)

Rolled 67, 54 = 121 (2d100)

>>5866051
>You take a more active role around the ship, gaining their respect in the process. (charisma bonus applied, +7)

>>5866051
>>Write-in
Read up the latest news and analysis

>>5866051
>You take a more active role around the ship, gaining their respect in the process. (charisma bonus applied, +7)

>>5866121
>>5866175
>>5867043
>>5867858
>Be active
>>5866379
>>5867083
>Learn more about the war
Latest news and analysis are already included as part of expert reports.
>>5866792
>Train in VR
>>5866136
>Profit off the rising prices

For multidice rolls like this one, I will take the highest sum of all the rolls. 1 will be critical failure; 99 and 100 critical success.

Roll for your decision: 37+7=44 vs. DC 55. Minor failure.
Roll for first contact: 99. Critical Success!

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>>5867954
Over the coming week, you start to take one more duties around the ship in the hopes of getting to know the men better. To avoid putting your officers in the tough position of following obviously incorrect judgement calls, you agree with Silas and Johnson to always consult with them before giving any orders. At first, the arrangement worked out well: your presence inspired, or at least threatened, the crew to put more effort into their work.

However, it did not take long before they realised that you used your powers only when in the same room as other officers, and even then never before discussing the matter thoroughly. As a result, they started treating you more like a curious tourist than their superior. The senior spacers still explained their jobs, their machinery, or whatever else you asked, of course, but too carefully, almost like they were doing it to a little child. Even worse, Lightspeed Angel Dornholm getting casked seems to have temporarily elevated you to the position of ship pageant, so many now see you as some sort of well-meaning and ultimately harmless airhead despite the fearsome performance earlier in Zeta Dantalion.

Thankfully the show of enthusiasm was not entirely wasted. Even if you could still hear barely suppressed sniggers tailing your step after every corner, now they are almost always followed by various profanities as the perpetrators get a taste of justice from their more tight-buttoned peers. Whether this is done out of genuine respect or merely out of a gentlemanly desire to protect you dare not guess. Eventually, Silas slipped a handwritten note under the door to your bunk, “The officers appreciate the desire to help. But you are in the way.” You have no choice but to take the hint.

>>5867955
As the Vanilla Skyline nears its destination, Qyngur civilisation steadily recedes. The relay networks came to a dead end several systems ago. Captured star charts followed soon after. Only the vague directions scraped off the half-dead databank on that frigate remains useful. One might as well comb for a nanofiber thread in the middle of a gas giant's storm. That is, if Moynihan did not know the other signs to look for. Even if the egg-eaters have been truly thorough in covering their tracks, they forgot the point was to look natural, not spotlessly clean. As expected, close scans revealed several minute gravitational disturbances in the orbits of nearby asteroids, too slight to be picked up by any but the best Coretech sensors. The pattern showed the trail has seen heavy traffic, cruiser-sized at least, as recently as a few days before. You must be getting close.

It seems like you are not the only person who had been combing. A pair of Marlin light cruisers were chasing a small scout vessel of heavily modified civilian design, but as soon as your ship warps in one of them changes targets and burns for you instead. Moynihan quickly broadcasts the smuggler's encrypted code all over the system. A few moments later, the scout turns round and starts skirmishing with the remaining Marlin, anxious to watch this battle play out.

This is a rare opportunity to demonstrate your prowess. What is your order, captain?
>Be methodical. You have the range advantage, without asteroids to hide behind like last time there is no way Marlin-1 can force an engagement.
>Be unpredictable. Draw the Hiver in before turning the table with a full torpedo broadside just before they launch their own.
>Be awe-inspiring. The fight is easy. Convincing the pirates, not so much. Charge the Marlin with all guns blazing.

>>5867954
Slight clarification: I meant that I will pick the pair of rolls with the highest sum.

>>5867959
>Be methodical. You have the range advantage, without asteroids to hide behind like last time there is no way Marlin-1 can force an engagement.

>>5867959
>Be methodical. You have the range advantage, without asteroids to hide behind like last time there is no way Marlin-1 can force an engagement.

>>5867959
>Be awe-inspiring. The fight is easy. Convincing the pirates, not so much. Charge the Marlin with all guns blazing.

>>5867959
>Be methodical. You have the range advantage, without asteroids to hide behind like last time there is no way Marlin-1 can force an engagement.

>>5867959
>Be awe-inspiring. The fight is easy. Convincing the pirates, not so much. Charge the Marlin with all guns blazing.

>>5867959
>Be methodical. You have the range advantage, without asteroids to hide behind like last time there is no way Marlin-1 can force an engagement.

>>5867991
>>5868069
>>5868806
>>5869382
>By the book
>>5868477
>>5869224
>Fight to impress

Sorry for the late update. I was just experimenting to see if any more posters will show up.
Since votes are coming in throughout the whole two-day period I guess I will post every other day from now on. If anyone has any other suggestion on this or just comments on the quest so far please let me know. I'm very happy to hear your opinions.

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>>5870144
If both light cruisers work together to approach you, they might pose an actual threat. As it is, there is no need for showy tactics. The Vanilla Skyline turns away from the charging vessel and starts the bombardment. What must it feel like to be on the receiving side of this dirty uranium squall, where even one hit could spell your death? Marlin-1 zigzags wildly in an attempt to throw off your predictive fire control, but it ultimately could not escape the meticulously planned firing envelope. One crash. Two crashes. Before you could use all your fingers Moynihan reports loss of power. The guns switch to the other light cruiser without delay, but Marlin-2 is already speeding fast for the system's edge. Silas quickly brings up the local star chart, updated with fresh observations made from the current system, “They must be heading for this white dwarf here, D-247” He looks at you, “If they get away, we can't follow, not without risking a torpedo ambush.”

You watch helplessly as Marlin-2 fades away on the sensors feed. Even if your guns have theoretically unlimited range, the targeting system can only lead their fire so many minutes ahead. Not to mention the bogey has been cleverly presenting as small a cross section as possible, shifting its centerline to match your every move. But both of you have forgotten another participant in this battle. As Marlin-2 drops its shield to charge up the intersystem drive, a salvo of energy signatures comes alive in the scouting vessel's hull. Elysium excitedly interjects, “Q-ship conversion. Must be one hell of a daredevil to strap so many torpedoes on that rustbucket. Why, a solar breeze could probably crumble it.” Johnson replies, “Maybe merely looking like so is the point.” With interference coming from its drive, the point defense on Marlin-2 might as well be firing blind. In an instant, the ship vanishes into a cloud of rapidly expanding dust.

Moynihan connects again to the bridge, “Ma'am. Ivy-1 is hailing us. It seems to want us to follow it into D-247.” You give Silas the go ahead. Half an hour later, you warp into the outskirts of the white dwarf. You were expecting a small outpost for stashing loot and making hasty repairs. Instead, you have found an entire hidden fortress-colony. Ivy-1 directs you to a repurposed mining barge orbiting what could only be described as a planetary strip-mine. A torrent of warnings flood your console screen, each pointing to a homing minefield, remote sentry-turret, or planetside missile battery locking on to your IR, EM, optical, and every other sensor signature known to man and bug. Looks like there's no denying this invitation. Silas nervously whistles a tune while several members of your bridge crew feel the spontaneous need to cough. Several vaguely voidworthy corvettes fan out around the Vanilla Skyline to ‘escort’ the cruiser to its destination.

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>>5870146
The support vessel is much sturdier than it looks at first scan, its original utilitarian bulk having been obscured by years' or even decades' worth of added armour and weapon mounts. Your cruiser fits snugly into one of its expansive slipways, but connecting a Terran-designed airlock to its Qyngur receiver proves more challenging. After some improvisation followed by several tests, Goldsmith finally confirms the hermetic seal. You and Silas suit up and prepare for first contact. Unfortunately, without a xenolinguist onboard, communication will have to be routed through the shipside automatic translator. Your message should be brief and direct.

A squad of warriors armed with carbines and swords lead you through the barge-station's winding corridors. Every few steps, the entire party has to stop for its leaders to disarm this turret and that mine. The Qyngur security detail remains silent the whole way through, not that you are much in the mood for small talk anyway. Eventually you are led into a waiting room of sorts and left there.

You like the decoration, simple and elegant, not like the garish merchant-caste cabins on the luxury liners you have captured the past few months. There are only a few black diamonds in the chandelier overhead, but they are masterfully arranged to create an illusion of dancing shadows on the marble-tiled floor. Woven spidersilk tapestries hang from the ceiling, an optical trick to make the room seem larger than it actually is. On these are chronicled many a tale, mostly of conquest, rapine, and pillage. There are a few recognisably human figures scattered throughout, which troubles your imagination. The Qyngur do tell stories of defeat, yes, but only victories are worth the effort to weave. Silas shows you an ivory snuff box carved in the shape of an egg. He sets it on a table nearby and to your delight, the egg settles into an upright state after just a bit of back and forth. You were expecting an explanation when he wordlessly reaches under the table for something. Immediately, the snuff-box leans on its side and starts rolling. You catch it before it can fall off. What a let down.

“So you know of this little party trick, too, hairless?” A voice in Shanghaian jolts you into dropping the egg on Silas' left foot. He lets out a stream of profanities, thankfully all in Trade English. Of all the Terran languages a Qyngur hivekeeper could learn, this one chose melodious Shanghaian. Why? Wouldn't something more nasal like German or Rojiban more closely resemble the Qyngur tongue? Even other Vietic dialects like Popular Saigonnese would have been more appropriate. You turn round to face the messenger, who motions you through a door you never noticed. A guard accompanying him stops Silas from following.

>>5870149
Hopefully he can understand the rusty Venusian you learned back in college. Your teachers, who insisted that it was crucial for doing interplanetary business, would have never expected it being used in this way. The hivekeeper led you into a more spacious chamber, divided in half by a massive white spidersilk curtain. You can vaguely make out the silhouette of the brood-mother resting behind it, but no other courtiers. Strange. He announces your entrance, first in Qyngur, then in Shanghaian, “My Princess-Mother, I brought before you the hairless Sylvia Thornton, vanquisher of Ame-Terret and defiler of Pishkaq. Kowtow to her Serene Motherhood, supplicant!” Wait, you never introduced yourself. A wave of alarm crosses your mind. Who sold you out? That agent? Jean-Pierre? Ienaga? It must be that fool Roquefort. He's dead after this. A brutish shove breaks your stream of thought, “Kowtow, I said. Or dare you defy her Motherhood?”

Will you stand? Kowtow? Something in between?
>Not even Death itself can force a Lunarian on her knees, much less some xeno. Stand more upright than ever.
>Give the curtain a deep bow. Acknowledge her powers at the same time as you assert your own autonomy.
>Kiss the marble floor. Even if you are prepared to die here, you do not want the death of your men to weigh on your conscience.
>Write-in

>>5870152
>Not even Death itself can force a Lunarian on her knees, much less some xeno. Stand more upright than ever.
Do your worst

>>5870144
No, it's a great quest.

>>5870152
>Give the curtain a deep bow. Acknowledge her powers at the same time as you assert your own autonomy.

>>5870152
>Give the curtain a deep bow. Acknowledge her powers at the same time as you assert your own autonomy.

>>5870144
Are you familiar with House and Dominion quest? This reminds me of it a lot.

>>5870152
>Not even Death itself can force a Lunarian on her knees, much less some xeno. Stand more upright than ever.

>>5870152
>Give the curtain a deep bow. Acknowledge her powers at the same time as you assert your own autonomy.

>>5870144
I'd like to do more socials and figure out what dad was doing. Maybe get a map too. Other than that, great quest.

>>5870152
>Give the curtain a deep bow. Acknowledge her powers at the same time as you assert your own autonomy.

I will update earlier today since I have a party to go to later.
>>5870323
>>5870410
>>5871410
>>5871867
>Deference
>>5870182
>>5870992
>Defiance

>>5870323
Thanks for your vote of confidence.
>>5870427
I actually haven't heard of that quest until now. After skimming through the archive I would say I can see the similarity.
However, I won't have so many mechanics or introduce a large cast of characters since I want to lean more on the narrative side.
>>5871867
Don't worry, as I have hinted earlier in >>5866051 the past might soon catch up to us.

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>>5871956
As you recover from the blow, images of May 26 blurs your vision, its sounds choking your throat. On that day many centuries ago, your foremothers bravely died standing, petrified when the cowardly Washingtonites decompressed Habitat 28-B from their orbital safety. Instead of quelling the Revolt, however, they have succeeded only in creating human statues, flesh made memorials. The final droplets of rain falling on a Sea of Tranquility which would no longer suffer calm. The rest is history, your story.

The Venusians have a saying, that ten years is enough to corrode all stone monuments. But what you have is no stone, dead to the heart even before the sulfuric acid rain grinds its core and the carbon dioxide gales scatter its dust. This is memories, forever remained as long as one Lunarian is still left who would dare measure up to them. “Have you come to join the vigil?”

“I have not.” You are not a freedom fighter, hell, until a few months ago, you weren't an anything fighter period. “Nonetheless, I will not throw away what you once so dearly bought.” The brood mother will have to accept just a bow. For the briefest instant, the stars halt. “Very well, then. We will meet again.”

Then a sonorous bellow rumbles forth from behind the curtain. Is it conveying anger at your disrespect? Instructions for disposing of your ship and crew? Silas at least would not go down so quietly. You close your eyes, awaiting the rush of wind to meet your neck.

Instead the hivekeeper breaks out in laughter, “The Princess-Mother is impressed by your stone-spirit, smoothskin. Unlike the lesser-born of our kinds, you do not give out foul fear-scent. Unlike the lesser-raised, you do not vainly spit at her serene concession. A true spirit knows when to humble itself, and she who knows when to humble herself is true-spirited indeed!” He continues, “Her Motherhood will soon be in labour, so she graciously gives you leave. Follow me, her ears need not hear of our lowly discussions." You give another deep bow in the curtain's direction before exiting. A Lunarian may be proud, but she is not disrespectful, not least to those who have shown her respect.

An anxious Silas beams up at your sight, “What happened in there? This guard here,” he nods to the warrior moving to block the doorway again, “has been clattering his teeth, mandible, whatever after that rumble we heard.” The herald is now by the exit. It would be rude to make him wait, “I'll explain later, for now just follow my lead, OK?” You add in another line as a jet of retching air shots up your nose when you pass by the guard, “Don't, ugh, worry. I- I've got this under control.” What is wrong with these insects' hygiene?

>>5871957
The hivekeeper brings you to a large open space, seemingly a communal hall of sorts. Several worker drones were congregating in a corner, but once they saw the herald enter they immediately scurried off. The party of warriors, many of whose mantles you recognised from earlier, was decidedly more stubborn. One of them rises to meet the hivekeeper's steely gaze and starts chittering. The AI translator shipside automatically picks up the sounds and displays subtitles on your eyepiece, “Hivekeeper Yamir-Hysret, why lowness still this hairless presence tolerates/accepts? The prey graciously to us offers, [we] its beating/pulsing heart slit open [to do] need. Its worm then our ichor-war well serves. [crickets]” You catch Silas' hand unclasping his pistol holster. Let's see how Yamir-Hysret deals with this warrior first.

The moment's silence was pierced by a screeching wail. The bulky herald has gouged out one of the rebel's eyes in an uncharacteristically deft movement, “Idiot-Hysin how gift of sight use know not. To the clan/family/earth gift return must. The rest or leave same fate [Feast?] suffer.” Once the idiotic Hysin has scrambled away from the grisly scene, a claw held to its missing eye, the herald addresses you in Shanghaian again, “On behalf of our people I apologize. Gens Hys cannot anymore discipline its warriors as harshly as it once did. Too few and too precious our younglings are.” He shows you the eye, black ichor still dripping from its lifeless hexagonal surface, “Please accept this humble Feast. That our sight may be added to your vision.”

Shake yourself out of shock, Sylvie. You have to do something, fast, or you might just end up like that Hysin.
>Eat the eye. Hopefully alien biomolecular structure will not mess up your digestive tract too much.
>Accept the eye but make a mental note to drop it off at your medlab later. Who knows, there might just be something interesting to uncover.
>Politely decline the eye. You are willing to play ball, but only to a certain extent.
>Write-in

>>5871960
typo on line 1: I meant *workers and drones

>>5871960
>Accept the eye but make a mental note to drop it off at your medlab later. Who knows, there might just be something interesting to uncover.
Ewww

>>5871960
>Accept the eye but make a mental note to drop it off at your medlab later. Who knows, there might just be something interesting to uncover.

>>5871960
>>Accept the eye but make a mental note to drop it off at your medlab later. Who knows, there might just be something interesting to uncover.
I don't want to be shitting for days thanks to eating an alien eye

>>5871960
>>Eat the eye. Hopefully alien biomolecular structure will not mess up your digestive tract too much.
PREPARE TO SHIT FIRE!

>>5871960
>Accept the eye but make a mental note to drop it off at your medlab later. Who knows, there might just be something interesting to uncover.

>>5871960
>>Eat the eye. Hopefully alien biomolecular structure will not mess up your digestive tract too much.

Sorry everyone I forgot today was the day I'm supposed to post. I'm with my family rn, so will probably update either tomorrow or the day after depending on how drunk I will get. Happy Christmas everyone, hope you're having fun as well.

>>5871960
>Eat the eye. Hopefully alien biomolecular structure will not mess up your digestive tract too much.

>>5873578
Merry Christmas!

>>5873578
Merry Christmas QM

>>5871971
>>5872076
>>5872170
>>5873490
>Food should not kill
>>5873303
>>5873559
>>5873964
>The risk alone is worth it

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>>5874611
Overcoming your own disgust, your hands reach out for the black bulb. You briefly consider just touching it with a single finger before fully committing, but Yamir-Hysret is watching intently. Black ichor drips all over your hands and wrists as you grasp hold of the globe. Strangely, the eye gives much more grip than first impression, as well as being not uncomfortably warm. The texture is similar to stockfish, the rows of evenly spaced out hexagonal edges reminiscent of scales. What would it taste like?

You had the chance to try out Venusian locusts, once. A failed genetic project to terraform the planet's hellish climate, hurricanes of these bugs still wander the troposphere and feed on its sulfuric clouds. Its internal enzymes then break down the acid as intended, but too small a portion of sulfur is retained in the body when these creatures die, not enough to offset the constant volcanic activity. What was a scientific failure, however, soon became a culinary hit. When bitten into, the trace amounts of sulfur still left would burn the tongue at the same time as the rotten egg fumes choke your nostrils. Properly processed, the dish should be safe for human consumption, almost. Almost? The tour guide had said mostly...

A cough from Silas wakes you from your daydream. Is your mind actually trying to prepare you for eating this eye, or is it just trying to delay the eventual deed? In any case, remembering the abrupt end to your Venusian trip back then thanks to sulfur poisoning concludes the matter. If your stomach could not stand bio-engineered Terran insects, it would fare even worse digesting alien biomolecules. You bow to Yamir-Hysret, your mind scrambling to string together Venusian words, “I thank you for the offer of sight, but I cannot feast on this eye right now. I fear my body cannot quite handle the... revelation it will bring.” Silas is already prepared to receive the eye in a ziplock bag, “Standard procedure for debarking in alien biosphere. The goggly-eyes over at Xenobiology couldn't bear the thought of our crap contaminating their pristine environments.” After carefully sealing the bag, he continues, “I take it you want this taken to medlab and analysed asap.” You nod and turn back to Yamir-Hysret, who remains inscrutable. You shift your body slightly to the side to obscure Silas' readying his sidearm.

“Not partaking in the Feast, that I can understand. But drawing weapons on your Host, is this what Terran hospitality has come to?” There was a genuine note of disbelief and sadness in the herald's tone. The pang of guilt hits true, “I- I had to” But you stand firm, “We had to remain alert. Too deep the gulf between us is, remains. How can the Guest feel at ease when the Host knows so much even before they introduce themselves?”

>>5874614
Silas jerks a little behind you, the translation software much better at deciphering Terran speech. The hivekeeper remains tense for a moment, his claws raised high in the air, still cradling the shape of an eye. He slowly lets them fall back to his side, “Yes, there is much to answer before we can walk the same path.” He picks his words carefully, like a hunter singling out the choicest stag in a gang of elks. “But first, with proper introductions let us begin. Yamir-Hysret to my people, Eldest Hivekeeper of gens Hys. But to you, just Yamir.” First name basis, already? “I am Sylvia Thornton, privateer-commander of Black Sun Enterprise. Call me Sylvia.”

“Now, you must excuse my prying. But it is impossible to not be curious.” A measured pause. “Simply put, you have been unignorable the last few months. Why, there was even a bounty just two weeks ago for mere sightings of your ship. That particular offer was withdrawn soon after the action at Hir-341. An entire quick response force under the ichor-drinking Ame-Terret had been destroyed under unclear circumstances. A mystery to all other gens." This must be Dantalion. “But our eyes saw everything. We know that another hairless had wanted your blood, made it the condition of her defection. At the very last, she choked on her own vengeance.” A poetic, and quite fitting way to describe Sparrow-2's end.

”But the story does not end there. You come here bearing Qolik-Hysin's watch-word. He would never have yielded them and lived. Tell me, Thornton the Commander, did he fight well?" If everything went according to Jean-Pierre's plans, he would never even recognise he was dead. “Yes, we had to pry the keys from his cold, dead claws.” Yamir seems distracted, no, willfully ignorant of your answer. “May our ancestors guide his journey to the Heart of Stone. But I meant whether or not he was killed by your people? If he was, there would be complications...” Ah, so that's where he is going. “You need not worry, Hivekeeper Yamir. Qolik-Hysin would never suffer to perish under heathen blades. He went to the Heart as a martyr. Of his own will.” All his eyes look at you, but they see nothing. ”Then our ancestors shall find him well. You see, a slain soul must be propitiated with the blood of his slayers before he can cross the border. Else, he will turn on his own kin for compensation. ‘Not a drop of blood is spilled that is not turned into a river.’ So goes the saying." Your imagination shudders.

"You have saved one of our own as well. This one has not yet earned his name, but he is no less a Hys for that. The entire gens is thus in your debt.”
>"We want nothing more than access to your facility to repair and maintain our- worm."
>"You have eyes and ears, we have claws. Guide our strikes so they may ever hit true."
>"Perhaps another day one of your own shall save us in turn, so that fate at the end hands to each his just rewards."
>Write-in

>>5874619
>"Perhaps another day one of your own shall save us in turn, so that fate at the end hands to each his just rewards."

>>5874619
>>"We want nothing more than access to your facility to repair and maintain our- worm."

>>5874619
>"You have eyes and ears, we have claws. Guide our strikes so they may ever hit true."

Information is ammunition.

>>5874619
>"You have eyes and ears, we have claws. Guide our strikes so they may ever hit true."

>>5874619
>"You have eyes and ears, we have claws. Guide our strikes so they may ever hit true."

>>5875266
>>5875518
>>5876164
>Information
>>5875253
>Repairs
>>5874654
>Good will

My wife had some friends over last night so I couldn't update, sorry.

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>>5876692
“You have eyes and ears”. Do insects even have ear? “We have claws. Guide our strikes so they may ever hit true.” That request does not sound as smooth coming out of your mouth as it did in your head. Maybe you should have practiced speaking Venusian more, shame it was such a small portion of the course's grade back in college. On the edge of your vision, Silas nods quietly. Of course, your most urgent need is engine repairs; however, he knows that can be negotiated later. Persuading Yamir to give up information, the invisible ammunition of this cold war, would be far more difficult. Best to get the most of this offer while it lasts.

The hivekeeper's antennae swing rhythmically back and forth, its controller deep in thought. As they come to a stop, he pronounces his answer, “Very well then, Thornton the Commander.” He must be intentionally ignoring your request to be called by your first name. “What do you want to know?” The hivekeeper looks over to Silas. “You do not have to answer immediately, if you want to consult with your servant-labourer first.” Silas jerks and almost breaks your wrist when you attempt to stop him from drawing his plasma derringer. Thankfully the split-second of delay was enough to let the logical part of his brain asserted itself again. “Keep calm. He must be testing you.” Silas mutters some profanities under his breath, still unwilling to loosen his grip on the gun. Before the situation can escalate, you bow to Yamir one last time, “I ask you for leave then, Hivekeeper Yamir-Hysret. We will have an answer by the day after tomorrow.” He signals his assent by chittering orders at his guards to escort you back to your ship. Your body blocks the line of sight between the two, man and bug, as you gently nudge Silas towards the hall's entrance.

Silas is visibly unhappy as he walks a slight distance behind you down the way you have come earlier. It is less anger, however, and more, how to put it, disappointment, a sunken helplessness. At whom, at what, you can only guess. Even as you change your clothes in the quarantine section set up by your medical officer, his mood has barely improved.

>>5876715
Finally, once you have gathered all the senior officers in the planning room to discuss the proposal, Silas raises his voice again, “I don't trust these bugs one bit.” Johnson, who has heard everything from you beforehand, pipes up, “And why would that be? A single faux-pas, and that hivekeeper already got you more worked up than any pencil-pushers back in Lighton could in their wildest dreams.” So that's the glance Elysium got for cutting the line. No wonder why the kid was so scared. Unfortunately, Johnson was much less impressionable. “Might just be an honest mistake, nothing more.” No, that couldn't be. Yamir knew exactly what button to push. “Yamir spoke Shanghaian too well, better than my college professors even. That choice of words was deliberate...” But why must he push the buttons? Did he not wish to walk on the same path as you?

Moynihan chimes in, “Now's not the time for that. You have set us a very tight deadline, Commander. I have already ordered my men to scour our databanks for any potentially promising gaps.” Silas composes himself, “Thank you, Lieutenant Moynihan. But we must know for sure if these bugs can be trusted. An exiled clan not already eating out of our hands? If Fleet has no angle on these bastards, best we be cautious of our chances as well." Enemy of enemy, yet not our friend. “Good point, Lieutenant Commander O'Keefe. They must be feeling us out as well. I don't want to walk into a trap if I can help it.” But how to learn more of this gens Hys, when the nearest library is hundreds of light years and dozens of enemy fleets away? You will have to call someone.

Choose who you call carefully. You can call many people, but it will be difficult to hide your current situation to them. Such a decision should not be left to dices, but you roll three 1d100 anyway.
>Moynihan stands ready. He can send a formal inquiry to Fleet, but the process was deliberately structured to extract every ounce of information from the sender. (DC 30 for info, DC 75 to avoid suspicion, +7 charisma bonus applied)
>Silas can call on his contacts in Naval Intelligence. Considering who he is dealing with, it will be best for everyone's life expectancy to not hide anything. (guaranteed success, DC 90 to fool the other side, +7 charisma bonus applied)
>Johnson joins in, “My younger sister was a professor in Qyngur studies at U Lighton. Emphasis on ‘was’. Not even tenure could protect her from refusing Fleet's requests to translate for POWs. She's an activist now, organising protests for some Front-adjacent groups.” (DC 55 for info, DC 65 to avoid suspicion, +7 charisma bonus applied)
>Your ship has extensive databanks. Let's focus on digging up something there first before turning to other sources. (DC 70 for info, no suspicion, the time investment means you can only call one other person if you choose this path)

Rolled 45, 77, 23 = 145 (3d100)

>>5876717
>Your ship has extensive databanks. Let's focus on digging up something there first before turning to other sources. (DC 70 for info, no suspicion, the time investment means you can only call one other person if you choose this path)
>Johnson joins in, “My younger sister was a professor in Qyngur studies at U Lighton. Emphasis on ‘was’. Not even tenure could protect her from refusing Fleet's requests to translate for POWs. She's an activist now, organising protests for some Front-adjacent groups.” (DC 55 for info, DC 65 to avoid suspicion, +7 charisma bonus applied)

Rolled 95, 11, 21 = 127 (3d100)

>>5876717
>>Johnson joins in, “My younger sister was a professor in Qyngur studies at U Lighton. Emphasis on ‘was’. Not even tenure could protect her from refusing Fleet's requests to translate for POWs. She's an activist now, organising protests for some Front-adjacent groups.” (DC 55 for info, DC 65 to avoid suspicion, +7 charisma bonus applied)
>>Your ship has extensive databanks. Let's focus on digging up something there first before turning to other sources. (DC 70 for info, no suspicion, the time investment means you can only call one other person if you choose this path)

Rolled 60, 41, 38 = 139 (3d100)

>>5876724
+1

>>5876724
>>5877101
>>5877577
>Archival research
>Expert interview

Roll for archive: 45 vs. DC 70. Major failure.
Roll for professor: 77+7=84 vs. DC 55, 65. Major success.
Third roll unused.

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>>5877857
After getting Johnson to reach out to his sister, you sealed yourself in the ship's central memory modules to sift for clues. The outline of the Directorate's history is simple enough: scarcely a century ago, the Old Qyngur Empire occupied and enslaved a fringe Eranian colony. The entire Coreworld was in uproar, prompting a massive Expedition which quickly overwhelmed the technologically inferior Qyngurs. Afterwards, their territory was split between various Terran powers to exact reparations in kind. The arrangement lasted up until the next major Coreworld conflict a couple decades later. As the isolated outposts of humanity in Liteia were occupied fighting their own little wars in the shadow of their overlords' greater ones, the Qyngur military-in-exile returned to sweep their ancestral skies clean.

In just a few years, the new state had reclaimed most of its former stars, save for Solward fringes. There, a patchwork collection of merchant militias, stranded military units, enterprising mercenaries, and Qyngur collaborators fought them to a standstill with lukewarm support from a belatedly alarmed Core. Sadly, the continued atmosphere of distrust in the metropoles even after the Peace of Mercurial Alexandria doused any hopes of another Punitive Expedition. An uneasy stalemate thus ensues to this day.

But where does gens Hys fit into all this? Were they among the remnants of the aristocracy which fled civilised space following its defeat by the Expedition? Were they collaborators evading punishment after the Terran Evacuation? Were they rivals who had run afoul of the current ruling gens? Were they pretenders breaking away from a more established bloodline? These theories each suggested a wildly different area of history to look into, if there are even any records to start with. Post-Expedition administering authorities did very little in the way of administration, more concerned as they were with daytime robbery, and what documents they did keep were not always handed over to the fledging Directorate. The new government themselves have also maintained tight control over the flow of publicly accessible information from across the Kaskandir Line, further limiting your options.

After searching across the ship's entire databanks for hours on end, you have gleamed only one promising lead. A declassified Shanghaian after action report dating from early Occupation Era mentioned the capture of a certain Kalam-Hisret in a rearguard action by the fleeing Qyngurs. So that might be the reason for Yamir knowing Shanghaian. There was, unfortunately, no other elaboration on this Kalam's fate or on that particular operation. Even worse, the entire region passed into ‘self-rule’ soon afterwards, one way to say it was abandoned to warlords who might occasionally pay tribute. Probing other potential avenues only turned up papers so heavily redacted that you suspect they might be part of a campaign by Big Printer to waste ink.

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>>5877861
Plan B it is then. Johnson is visibly upset as you ask him to connect you to his sister, “She has agreed to spare some time for a little chat. But only God knows who is sitting in over on her side. Her little activist group is above board, but not all of its members are restrain themselves to peaceful disobedience. The security risk is enormous.” He sighs, “I would rather talk to Silas' contacts over this. At least then we know who we are dealing with.” You nod in acknowledgement, although you disagree with him. It is unlikely the Front can even start to guess your current location knowing only what you plan to tell this former professor.

Johnson shows you to the console for the q-pulse array which has been mated to its counterpart in your company office. Thank god your father had invested in an automated cubicle back on Lighton, that way you do not have to channel everything through Command. Nevertheless, Johnson still had to guide his sister to sweep through the office several times for any hidden recorders. Hence his worries, she was never the techy type, yet she was somehow able to carry out his instructions in record time. You settle down in your seat while Johnson remains standing. Let's do this.

Your fingers fly across the keyboard, “Hello, Professor Johnson. I'm Commander Sylvia Thornton, your brother's captain. Nice to meet you.” Succinct and not too formal, helps set the mood. “Hi, Miss Thornton. Nice to meet you too. You can call me Barb if you like. Can I call you Sylvie?” Good, she seems friendly enough. “Of course, Barb. Now, about the question I have...” You should be as quick and direct as possible. “We can get to that in a minute. But first, I was just wondering.” If Johnson's suspicions are true, her friend must be trying to pry some sort of lead. “Is my brother doing fine, Sylvie? He never tells me anything, doesnt want to worry his little sister.” Even if you don't like it, it would be rude to ignore that. “Hes doing very well. Your brothers a good officer, Barb, every captain would be glad to have him on the crew.” Maybe she's genuinely worried? “Ill scold him later for not talking to you more." Yep, Johnson is definitely rolling his eyes behind you. “Dont be too harsh on him, please. He may seem tough, but hes not born wearing stripes. Believe it or not, hes taken after his father more. Poetry, paintings and all that.” Isn't she supposed to get information from you, not the other way round? “Me? Im the analytical sort, like my mother.” You have a feeling there will be a family talk soon once your cruiser returns to Lighton.

>>5877868
Interesting though Johnson's family history might be, time to guide the discussion back on course. “Dont worry. Ill take care of him. But you got to help me do that.” “What can you tell me about gens Hys of the Qyngurs?” A short wait. She is probably consulting her own notes, mental or digital. “First, dont call them Qyngur. That titles reserved for the ruling clan only. The imperial family, Gur, of gens Qyn. I take it you are dealing with a Hysret?” How does she know? “Are you an empath?” You can almost hear the laugh on the other side at your confusion. “No ;) I just can't imagine most Hysin warriors seeing a hairless as anything other than decoration.” You don't like the implications of that joke. “The keepers Hysret should be more openminded though. Next time you talk, remember to address him as lowness. The Mir, how you should refer to them collectively btw, mapped directions onto hierarchies in a different way. In layman terms, down is up for them.” Hmm, that's something Silas never told you.

“Anyhow, gens Hys, from what I could find, seemed to be a minor family from the Ymu region.” That's right next to Citar, where you currently are. “Their first Keeper, Kalam-Terret, was a local hero back in Occupation.” The name rings a bell, but Terret? “Yes, I know what you are thinking. It was due to his revolt against the Shanghaian garrison that gens Hys was created out of gens Ter.” Still, he was captured in the end. “There was not much else for several decades afterwards. The Administering Authorities werent exactly known for their due diligence. We do know for a fact that they supported the returning Qyngur.” A loyalist gens that was for some reason exiled? You catch your own curiosity before it can ask Barb about this. “They should still be based out of Ymu, if you want to follow your Hysret home. Theres also rumour of a secret base near Citar used by Kalam but it should be abandoned these days." Not anymore. “And thats all Ive got.”

"Now that you know everything, would you mind telling me why you want to know about gens Hys? Most privateer captains couldn't tell one Mir from another." She and whoever is with her will probably believe what you have to say.
>"My men found this Keeper holed up in a first class bunk. I just want to know how much ransom I could get for him from where."
>"The captain of one of the ships we destroyed threatened us with a blood-debt by his gens before going down. I want to know what I'm dealing with."
>"Ill come clean with you. Were currently in that secret Citar base, and we might find ourselves working with them soon."
>Write-in

I will be away for the next few days. Happy New Year everyone!

>>5877871
>Write-in
Your brother was praising you claiming you were sharp as whip being a former professor in Qyngur studies at U Lighton and knew everything about anything regarding them. We weren't too busy and called. Here he is now!

Then pass the call to Johnson.

>>5877871
>>"My men found this Keeper holed up in a first class bunk. I just want to know how much ransom I could get for him from where."

>>5877874
Happy new year OP

>>5877874
Happy New Years!

>>5877871
>"Ill come clean with you. Were currently in that secret Citar base, and we might find ourselves working with them soon."
Honesty is the best policy

>>5877982
Supporting

Planned to get this out yesterday initially, but was too tired from work. Also map will be coming soon-ish, once I manage to wrangle blender to do what I want.
>>5877982
>>5881053
>Flattery
>>5878064
>Kidnapping
>>5878620
>Honesty

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>>5883482
“would you mind telling me why...?” It would be easy to slot in a convenient lie here. A phantom captive. An imagined blood-debt. But somehow you cannot bring your fingers to type it in. It's less whether she would believe you (she definitely would), but rather what would happen afterwards. What if she remembers today's chat when writing her next article or book? From the authority of false experience, lies become memory become history. A decade, a century from now, someone will eventually have to pick up the bill. No, the future already has a heavy enough burden to bear. It would be unconscionable to add another feather. On the other hand, risking your ship and men by telling the truth is even worse. Perhaps some flattery will do,

“Barb, your brother could not shut up about you."

“Sharp as the crack of a whip”

“Second-youngest person to get tenure at U Lighton”

"So on and on.” You can hear a slight chuckle from behind. “We have some down time today so I just want to have a little chat :)” And sent.

You know quantum pulse does not have the best throughput, but this is very much slower than usual. Did something happened on the other side? As you are about to type a follow-up message, the reply finally appeared, “I knew it *:.｡.o(≧▽≦)o.｡.:*” Oh that's why. “He always pretend to be stoic and all in front of me, then brags about his smart lil sis to everyone he meets.” Ouch. Did Johnson just slap your head? You turn back to face him and almost die from laughter. Johnson, not knowing whether to be angry, embarrassed, or smiling, has contorted his face into a red mess. Just then a light went bright in your head. “You must miss your brother very much. Lemme delete this convo real quick then Ill pass the call to him.” Time to stand up, courteously pull the seat back for Johnson, give him a devilish smile, and watch the fireworks. Or not since you suddenly remember you still have to meet up with Silas to discuss your response to Yamir.

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>>5883483
Your XO gives you a half-hearted salute as you come into the planning room. You address him in as serious a tone as you manage, “Anything to report?” A surprised Silas answers, “Where's Johnson?” Suppress the urge to smirk. “He won't be joining us. He has... other business to attend to.” Silas nods, “I see,” then points to the holographic projection, “Let us get started right away then. The past few months we have hunted on the rims of the Citar Quadrant. The picking's certainly good, but now's an opportunity.” He zooms in to a small point on the line dividing the inner and outer portions, “Molosses, part of the Coriolanus-Ymu Corridor. So far, constant patrols up and down this line have prevented breakthrough into the heart of the region.” He swipes his arm and the projection starts moving, “But in a few weeks, the primary will move beyond the known range of Qyngur warp drives, causing a break in the Corridor.” All schedules will have to be changed. “If we know their new patrol routes ahead of time,” You fill in the rest, “then we can safely rush through any temporary gaps.”

Silas nods, “So, can we trust these Hivescums?” You ponder the question out loud, “They were only exiled recently, after the Occupation.” Silas pauses to reflect, “If they remained loyal throughout those dark times, then there may just be a shred of honour left.” Somehow he seems not entirely pleased with this conclusion, “I think we can trust this clan Hys. For now.” Oh, the irony. For hostages effectively trapped in a massive cage, the two of you are acting high and mighty indeed. The star map disappears, “I will have Moynihan forward the request later. But now...” A model of your ship was brought up in its place, “we have to decide how to repair this beauty.”

"Our ‘friends’ on the station have agreed to take fab-feed off of us in exchange for replacement parts. Goldsmith has tallied up our inventory to 423 Qyngur-standard units in all." Both sides know you have no other choice, and the prices have been set accordingly.
>Exhaust shielding for the engines: 100 unit. (repairs engine fully)
>Hydraulic pumps for shell elevator: 75 unit (repairs Turret A-1 to 90%)
>Jury-rigged point defense mountings: 75 unit (not very effective, but better than nothing)
>Additional mines and missiles: 50 unit (replenishes stock)
>Ablative armor plating: 50 unit (less effective than Terran design, will decrease manoeuvrability)
>Access to a better-equipped slipway: 50 unit (speeds up repair, more time to prepare for the next action)

>>5883490
>Exhaust shielding for the engines: 100 unit. (repairs engine fully)
>Hydraulic pumps for shell elevator: 75 unit (repairs Turret A-1 to 90%)
>Additional mines and missiles: 50 unit (replenishes stock)
>Access to a better-equipped slipway: 50 unit (speeds up repair, more time to prepare for the next action)

>>5883490
>>5883516
Supporting.

>>5883516
+1

>>5883490
>Exhaust shielding for the engines: 100 unit. (repairs engine fully)
>Additional mines and missiles: 50 unit (replenishes stock)
>Access to a better-equipped slipway: 50 unit (speeds up repair, more time to prepare for the next action)

>>5883516
+2

Reminding everyone again to please link to my post when voting. It really helps me keep track of everything.
>>5883516
>>5883531
>>5883774
>>5884932
>Exhaust shielding for the engines
>Hydraulic pumps for shell elevator
>Additional mines and missiles
>Access to a better-equipped slipway
>>5884558
>Exhaust shielding for the engines
>Additional mines and missiles
>Access to a better-equipped slipway

Total: 275 units + 25 units for other spot repairs and maintenance = 300 units.
Remaining: 123 units

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>>5885524
As the Vanilla Skyline leaves the slipway, you notice distinctly fewer barrels pointed your direction. Is this supposed to be a sign of trust? In what, anyway? Yamir must not be so foolish to think the hairless have no conception of object permanence. Deviate even slightly from the excessively marked pathway, and in a few blinks any observer will wonder whether there were any ships in the first place. More accurately, this is a demonstration of strength. Like a thumb hanging just outside of an ant's field of vision, ready to bear down with its full weight at any whim. Best not to bite, then.

The manoeuvring thrusters meekly comply to every little jerk from the couple of tugs dragging your ship into, from the looks of it, a more frequently-used dock. After your ship was secured in place by several massive clamps protruding like stalactites and stalagmites from the ceiling and floor, the massive bay gates were closed and proper atmo-seal established. You carry an oxytank with you anyway in case the Mir forgot to make the air breathable for humans. Near the loading doors Goldsmith is already busy examining the components you have ordered. Deep in thoughts, he only recognises your approach when one of the men helpfully taps his back.

“Ah, sorry capt'. Didn't hear you there, it always being so loud in engi and all.” He gives you a stiff salute. “Anyway, these components were...” He shakes his head a little. “They are something, at least. I can work with them.” A deep breath before the rant. “Damage on the engines is external, so no problem there. Would be hell getting these hydraulics to interface with the propriety ammo manager software, though. Penetrator caps on the missiles are substandard, but then again so are most Qyngur armor.” Suddenly, the lights go dark. You pull out your sidearm in reflex, but they turn back on immediately. There is something different, however. Have they gotten brighter? “Don't worry about that, cap. The digital vacuum's up, that's all. From now on not one bit will enter or leave this dock without crossing my tablet first.” Seeing the panic on your face, he continues, “It's nothing. I've already cleared everything stationside before hand. Else, there won't be any repairin' on my watch.” You slowly put the pistol back in holster. Goldsmith talks to no one in particular, “Don't want to see any bugs runnin' around with copycat guns, that's all.”

As you vacillate between returning to the ship and looking around outside a bit more, Johnson calls out, “Captain, I was looking for you.” This must be about the family talk. You hope Barb did not go too hard on her brother. “The Hivekeeper wants to meet you, to hand over the requested information in person.” Really? Is this even necessary? Johnson turns to your engineer chief, “Bay's sealed, already?” Goldsmith nods. “Guess we'll have to ride the shuttle, then. Follow me, captain.”

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>>5885528
Turns out, Goldsmith had second thoughts just as you two left and ordered the shuttle hangar locked down. “Just afraid some bugs gonna make a comfy nest in her nav computer when you dock with the station, that's all.” As a result, both you and Johnson had no choice but to go out on a stroll in EVA suits. Throughout the journey, the white star gleams limpidly off of the station's solar panels. Occasionally, you pass through viewing-ports which afford a glimpse into daily life up here. Two warriors lock their claws in a contest of strength. Several little critters chase one another on the silken floor of a nursery. A small declawed drone tend to a small shrine surrounded by a small garden, as in a miniature set. Do these people look out the window from time to time and beat their chests in grief of their lost homes? They certainly seem far enough from the kind of desperation that lives only day by day. In any case, none seems to notice your passing overhead.

Until you suddenly lock eyes with a soldier in what looks like an observatory. He must be young, judging from his largely smooth thorax, not yet decorated by war. A short freeze later, the Mir scurries off behind a door. Goldsmith did tell them you are coming this way, did he? Johnson, too, disappears into the hull. At least his arm promptly pops up again to guide you into the airlock. Emerging on the other side, you were greeted by the young soldier's apparently excited chittering. You motion him to stop while you get the helmet off and turns your translator on. “I can't thank/ gratitude you enough, your lowness/ madam Sivi-Totonret.” Your name's transliteration aside, that training data Yamir provided is really effective. “Because you push that worm/ ship right into our floor-breaking/ambush. The fool Terin did not even realise he was dead/ joined the Feast.” This must be the captain of the corvette from earlier. He pauses for a moment, before launching into a new barrage, “Oh, to wash my claws I forgot. My name is Pahan-Hys. I am a youngling now, but soon I will molt into a Hysin/ warrior.”

"The molting ritual/ceremony is usually closed off to outsiders/not-Mirs, but I know his lowness will not stop me inviting you. Come if you can, (request word)"
>Politely decline. From what you know of these bugs, there's bound to be a Feast afterwards, and you will have eat something you don't want to.
>Opportunistically agree. You will try to secret a recording rig in. The video on the ground will make a nice bribe for Barb.
>Wholeheartedly agree. You may have underestimate this fascinating people. What's a better chance to cure your own ignorance?
>Reservedly agree. You will have to check your schedule. But if you don't make anything come up, you will definitely try to be there.
>Write-in

>>5885531
>Opportunistically agree. You will try to secret a recording rig in. The video on the ground will make a nice bribe for Barb.

>>5885531
>Reservedly agree. You will have to check your schedule. But if you don't make anything come up, you will definitely try to be there.

>>5885531
>Opportunistically agree. You will try to secret a recording rig in. The video on the ground will make a nice bribe for Barb.

>>5885531
>Politely decline. From what you know of these bugs, there's bound to be a Feast afterwards, and you will have eat something you don't want to.
Another eye? No way

>>5885532
>>5886221
>Plan a recording
>>5885560
>Keep it flexible
>>5886429
>Not again

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>>5887164
A ceremony usually closed to outsiders? Barb would give up anything, no, she would kill even, to learn more about it. Your first instinct is to try sneaking a camera in, but why risk it when you can just ask? Without a soundbox capable of mimicking Mir speech, you resort to typing out the answer on your tablet instead.

“I am honoured to be invited by such a brave fighter, Pahan-Hys.” All the thousand dark pools that make up his eyes seem to glow, catching and reflecting every ray of sunlight streaming through the still open observatory door. “No, the honour is mine, your lowness/ madam.” How to tactfully phrase your request?

“I wonder if I can record the proceedings?” You gesture at the bodycam attached to the EVA suit. “So I can remember this honour for the rest of my life.”

The eyes dissipate their focus, like muck stirred up by a thousand paddles. “[untranslatable]? What is this your lowness/ madam speak off?” Seems to be a problem with the translator, maybe you should use plainer words. “I wish to see/ look/ glance." You remove the body cam and hold it up before most of his eyes. "Backwards.”

His neck cranes in uncomfortable directions. “Behind your lowness/ madam another of your people currently is." You quietly turn off the alternate suggestion for lowness. “If your lowness want to see backwards again, maybe your lowness can place that artificial eye on your back." His left claw raise as high as it can manage to pat the back of his head, an even less comfortable sight. "Your lowness can bring such eyes to molting, yes, to see everything.”

You have a feeling that there has been a miscommunication here, but that does sound close enough to a yes. “Thank you for clarif- clearing my sight.” The tablet seems to have caught on to what you are doing and is now helpfully suggesting ways to dumb down your speech. “Pahan-Hys must be bus- have much work, I will not talk any longer. I wish you a good day.”

As the confusion settles, some of that brilliant gleam returns to his eyes, “And black/ bloody day be to your lowness as well!” He disappears before you even grasp the full implications of that send-off. You take off the EVA suit and hand it to a guard who then guides you to the customary waiting room.

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>>5887174
The room has not changed at all. Most importantly, that egg is still standing at attention. Johnson follows your wave to the table's side and wordlessly watches as you drop the egg sideways. As expected, the egg wobbles only for a few moment before settling upright again. “Do you know how they did it?” His brows rise, “I have my guesses. Will you show me?” Triumphantly, you reach under the table. Wait, something's wrong. Where's the switch? You crouch to get a better view of the table's underside. It is entirely smooth. What did Yamir do? Heat is rising up your cheeks. No, this cannot be.

As your mind races to come up with some plausible excuse, you hear a loud thud. Craning your neck, you see the egg rolling on the floor. You stand up again, your humiliation complete. No dignity left to lose now. “Will you show me?” Johnson takes a step back from the table and show you the side he's been standing over. There it is, hiding in plain sight. You can hear the mirth dripping from his explanation, “They are counting on you to drop your guard after getting tricked once.” His hand hides the widening smile, “Although I have to admit, that lordliness of half-innocence makes it all the sweeter. Like a barely older child thinking she is so grown up compared to her siblings.” You can't help but laugh a little too, “Seeing you struggling to hide that smirk of yours is a good consolation prize, at least.”

After forcing you to endure his silent laugh for a while longer, Johnson finally returns to his usual self, “Next time it should be under one of the legs. Tradition compels me to tell you.” You can't help your curiosity. “Which one? And who's likely to not know about this?” He starts to say something, but stops himself, then starts again, “Could be any of them. And no, I'm not very familiar with the crew, yet. But Elysium, maybe?” You have to find an excuse to bring Elysium with you next time.

>>5887179
“Anyway, we have a while to wait, so how about a drink?” Johnson produces a little bottle of wine from under his overcoat. “Furriskey bog-champagne. Century Vintage, 2699. A shame to let a beauty like this langour in that former ‘cellar’ of Silas. What happens in that hothouse is a crime against culture.” His hands reach into the coat again and bring out a pair of glasses. How many things have he hidden there?

Johnson expertly pops the cork and pours half a glassful for you, “Would you like to propose a toast?” Nothing particular comes to mind, except for That. “To lost innocence, trampled underfoot by barely adults.” Johnson whizzes audibly, “Aye, to us newly adults, may the joy of trampling innocence never wear thin.” The glasses clank. You down the whole thing in one gulp, before reaching for more. “What's the hurry? Relax, savor the wine a little.” But alcohol only gets good as you get drunk. Mother promised you that. ”In any case, I don't want you knocked out while on duty. We still have a meeting ahead of us." He returns the bottle of wine to its leathery hideout, “But before that, a question.”

"Have you come across anything strange in company records? Missing receipts, contracts, the such?"
>"You a corpo debt harvester or what? If not, why do you care? I can pay your salary, don't you worry."
>"Certainly, but that's to be expected. After all, the bridge and most of the memory banks got spaced not too long ago."
>"Yes, quite a lot, actually. I am planning to look into it more once we are done with this sortie."
>"The answer is no. But if you pour me another glass, I might be convinced to flip that frown."
>"Wait, is that chandelier talking to me? Oh chandelier of the ceiling, what is your wisdom?" (write-in)

>>5887180
>"Yes, quite a lot, actually. I am planning to look into it more once we are done with this sortie."

>>5887180
>"Certainly, but that's to be expected. After all, the bridge and most of the memory banks got spaced not too long ago."

>>5887180
>"Yes, quite a lot, actually. I am planning to look into it more once we are done with this sortie."

>>5887180
>"Yes, quite a lot, actually. I am planning to look into it more once we are done with this sortie."

>>5887196
>>5887789
>>5888845
>Honesty
>>5887306
>Half-truth

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>>5889005
Hasn't he been briefed on the outfit's state by Silas already before joining? Although the extent of record loss is indeed concerning... It certainly doesn't hurt to come clean. Who knows, maybe Johnson has found out something as well. "Yes, quite a lot, actually. I am planning to look into it more once we are done with this sortie." The remaining wine sloshes around a little in Johnson's half-full glass. “It does sound bad, yes, but we haven't come up into any legal troubles so far...”

He sips a little before turning to face you. “I wasn't worried about such technicalities. Fleet would handwave anything to keep a ship like ours out and fighting.” The glass was set down next to the egg. “You haven't told Silas what you just told me, yes?” Each word was drawn out, hesitant. Is there anything in these two men's past that you should know? “No, and you better give me a good reason why I should not do so immediately after this meeting.”

“There is no reason why you should not. But think carefully about what you are doing.” You have enough of this pretentious show, “Can you get to the point. Yamir could be here any moment.” Again, that damn smirk. “No, not for another 15 minutes.” At least this time it vanished as quickly as it appeared. “Look, I'm not Silas' enemy. I trust him. And you should too. Trust is the only thing keeping the void out there.” Johnson steps into the shadow cast by an overhung banner. “Even so, you have to always leave some room for doubt. Do you know where the ship comes from?”

Keep calm, he's not accusing you of anything. “It was built by the Republic of Nova Britannia, that much is obvious. Even an armchair admiral knows that. Although he might not realise his favourite magazine had to publish a retraction stating that the ship carried only 12 main guns, not 24.”

“18, not 12. You got the Lighton edition.” Huh? “Turrets C-1 and C-2 are missing on our ship, replaced with two Guandong-designed quadruple torpedo launchers. There are many other irregularities which are completely undocumented.” A lump is rising in your throat. Didn't Silas hand you the retraction cutout after you complained about the missing guns? “The oversized shield generator is an obvious example. Tell me, why would the Americans sell top-of-the-line equipment to the Britannians, who just seceded from them half a century ago? And why would the Britannians actually mount them on their flagship line of cruisers built to resist the inevitable attempt at ending said secession?"

You swallow forcefully. “Does it even matter? As long as the ship holds togethe-" The last consonant dies in your throat. It did matter, it was the last thing that ever mattered for your father. Johnson seems to have realised where you are going as well. He quietly returns to the table, “Now you know why I must doubt.”

“Do you have any theories?”

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>>5889012
Your fingernails tap impatiently on the table. “No, that would be leading the witness.” He picks up the half-empty wine glass again. “I will tell you what I know for sure first. Then you can guess.”

“First fact, all newspapers published throughout the Directorate have to pass through the Ministry of Internal Security. They don't actually censor anything, mind you, that would be too barbaric. No, they only give ‘recommendations’, which the editors can theoretically reject.” You see where this is going. “Let me guess, no one ever tests that theory.” A slight nod.

“Second fact, the Britannian Parliament allocated funding for 12 Courageous-class heavy cruisers. Due to mismanagement and perhaps a hint of corruption, only 11 were commissioned. Regrettably, an oncoming recession meant that the last almost-complete hull had to be sold for scraps to a Pecheron-based shipbreaker. All weapons should be removed beforehand, but testings conveniently showed that they were defective anyway, so no need to trouble with that.” You had a feeling that not every gun was unusable.

“Third fact, a few years back, an American defense contractor struggling through the same recession had to sell off their profitable energy shield division to a rival. The terms of the contract stipulated that inventories were to be transferred as well. And indeed they were, whatever left after a 'spontaneous worker's rights protest' anyway. Litigations are still ongoing."

“I have a few more. But let's jump to near the end. Lieutenant Silas O'Keefe, after resigning his commission, worked for an international logistics company. Publicly available company logs showed many, many trips back and forth over the border for the 12-odd years he was there.” What is he getting at? “You think Silas was a smuggler?” Johnson looks up at the ceiling, “No, everything checks out with customs. Which is even more concerning. Before now, I had not met a single merchant captain who did not smuggle on the side. After all, the only border anyone bothers to guard is with the Mir."

>>5889017
“The best for last. There were almost no records on your father, Raymond Thornton, prior to him signing an official contract with Fleet 9 years ago.” Foreboding, but “He could have made his fortune fighting elsewhere.” Only just now do you notice the glass had entirely dried up. “In that case, he should have brought a crew with him. But only Silas was listed on the roster. The Vanilla Skyline had to be towed into Lighton, and every man recruited locally.”

"Now that you know all the facts, what's your theory, Commander Thornton?"
>"Father had connections which he used to finish the Vanilla Skyline with various smuggled components. He chose Silas because of his honesty."
>"The Ministry of Internal Security assembled the Vanilla Skyline. Silas, one of their agents, was placed on the ship to ensure my father's loyalty."
>"There are only 10 Courageouses in active service currently. The Vanilla Skyline is the 11th, legally acquired and refurbished with aftermarket parts."
>"If Silas is working for Fleet Intelligence, then who are you working for, Lieutenant Commander Johnson? You seem terribly knowledgeable about all this."
>"I don't know, and I don't want to know. We never had this conversation, and we will never have it again."
>"Maybe the AI chatbot on my tablet has the key to all this." (Write-in)

>>5889018
>"There are only 10 Courageouses in active service currently. The Vanilla Skyline is the 11th, legally acquired and refurbished with aftermarket parts."

>>5889018
>>"The Ministry of Internal Security assembled the Vanilla Skyline. Silas, one of their agents, was placed on the ship to ensure my father's loyalty."

>>5889018
>"If Silas is working for Fleet Intelligence, then who are you working for, Lieutenant Commander Johnson? You seem terribly knowledgeable about all this."
Why is he telling us all this?

>>5889018
>"If Silas is working for Fleet Intelligence, then who are you working for, Lieutenant Commander Johnson? You seem terribly knowledgeable about all this."

>>5889018
>"Maybe the AI chatbot on my tablet has the key to all this." (Write-in)
Are you saying my father and Silas have been secretly working together for decades toward some unknown goal?

Caught a cold from my coworker, posting from my bed rn. If I feel better tomorrow, I will finish the update.

>>5891122
Rest and get well soon

>>5891122
Feel better and drink lots of fluids.

I have never had a flu like that since I was a kid. But everything should go back to normal now, hopefully.
>>5891162
>>5891346
Thank you!

>>5889863
>>5890087
>Return the favour
>>5889107
>Everything is fine.
>>5889163
>Glowies gotta glow
>>5890251
>Ask for clarification

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>>5894152
You knew this tactic. Back in high school, you went through a webnovel phase. Whenever a villain in one of them wanted to convince the hero to join his side, he never argued for his ideals openly. That sort of confrontation would just antagonise the other side. Instead, he would offer ‘facts’ with a particular slant. If the hero agrees, then she may just be that more susceptible to accept everything else. There's probably a specific name for this move in psychology textbooks, but you don't need to know it to realise you are being manipulated.

That still leaves the question, how best to respond? You could try matching Johnson at his own subtle game. No, you can't count on him inexplicably overlooking some glaring flaw that you can exploit. Life is not a story, not that kind of story. Besides, as he has said, trust is important out here. Let's see if he trusts you, too.

"If Silas is working for Fleet Intelligence, then who are you working for, Lieutenant Commander Johnson? You seem terribly knowledgeable about all this."

A chuckle. Johnson takes out a handkerchief to wipe the wine glasses, “You are learning, good. Doubt always, doubt everything. But why do you think our XO is working with Intelligence? I don't think I have mentioned them yet.”

It should be obvious. No, it is only obvious to you, Johnson didn't know about the Hermes incident, “Well, let's just say we have been bumping into Jean-Pierre a bit too often to be a coincidence...” The piece of cloth suspends itself over the rim, “I've had my suspicions, but it certainly makes sense. Yes, Ministry and Intel. Together, one set of eyes turned inward, another outward.” His voice stoops to a murmur, his hands obsessively moving the wipe back and forth, “Whose eyes will watch over them both?”

A good question, but let's focus on the previous one. You cough a little to get his attention, “Perhaps the eyes of whoever you are working for?” A errant ray of light hits the now spotlessly clean edge and explodes into a rainbow. “I don't know whether I should regret sowing doubt in you like so.” Realising his work is done, he smiles and passes the handkerchief, “In this moment, I am employed by Black Sun Enterprise, and Black Sun Enterprise only.” Nod gratefully, but you have your own. “You won't believe me, I know. But your company," An instinctual slip, swiftly corrected. "Our company has a reputation in certain circles. I had to learn more before signing the dotted line.”

>>5894153
He sighs, “I should have gone civilian instead. Even if I needed the money.” You return the glass to him. “This has to do with your sister losing her job?” Another sigh, less dour. “In any case, I'm glad for the talk. We could have done this back on the ship, but I just can't shake the feeling I'm being watched there.” The yawning maw that is his overcoat sucks in everything. “People or machines?” He turns to the entrance, “Both. And not all on the same side, I suspect.” A shadow, presumably Yamir's, looms larger and larger on the wall opposite the doorway. “And so the game begins. Trust me, doubt me, ignore me, I am your rook.”

The conversation is over for now, but you still have to sort out its implications.
>Trust Johnson. Even if he has his quirks, you need a third opinion outside of Silas.
>Doubt Johnson. He is dangerous one, how subtly he tried to wedge in between you and Silas.
>Ignore Johnson. It's best to leave him out of this. Knowing the man, he wouldn't miss a thing.
>Use Johnson. If a rook can make it to the other side, good. But not at the cost of the game.
>Consult the comments on webnovels for ideas. (Write-in)

There's also the question of potential spies. Why does this dice only have five faces? No matter, you can roll it three times just fine.
>Passively monitor. Without hard evidence, one wrong step can ruin your reputation. (1-2, minor failure; 3-4, neutral; 5, success)
>Sweep thoroughly. Act quick enough, and you might just catch something by surprise. (1-3, major failure; 4-5, success)
>Do nothing. Johnson is just being paranoid, even if you sympathise with his attitude.
>Write-in (I will decide DC)

Rolled 5 (1d5)

>>5894155
>Use Johnson. If a rook can make it to the other side, good. But not at the cost of the game.

>Passively monitor. Without hard evidence, one wrong step can ruin your reputation. (1-2, minor failure; 3-4, neutral; 5, success)

Rolled 3 (1d5)

>>5894152
Glad you're feeling better!

>>5894155
>Trust Johnson. Even if he has his quirks, you need a third opinion outside of Silas.
>Passively monitor. Without hard evidence, one wrong step can ruin your reputation. (1-2, minor failure; 3-4, neutral; 5, success)

Rolled 4 (1d5)

>>5894155
>Use Johnson. If a rook can make it to the other side, good. But not at the cost of the game.
>Passively monitor. Without hard evidence, one wrong step can ruin your reputation. (1-2, minor failure; 3-4, neutral; 5, success)

>>5894155
>Doubt Johnson. He is dangerous one, how subtly he tried to wedge in between you and Silas.
>Passively monitor. Without hard evidence, one wrong step can ruin your reputation. (1-2, minor failure; 3-4, neutral; 5, success)

Rolled 1 (1d5)

>>5894155
>Trust Johnson. Even if he has his quirks, you need a third opinion outside of Silas.
>Sweep thoroughly. Act quick enough, and you might just catch something by surprise. (1-3, major failure; 4-5, success)

Seems Johnson's fate is at an impasse. I will wait a few hours to see if there's any tiebreaker. If there isn't then I will roll a 1d2.

>>5896120
>Trust Johnson. Even if he has his quirks, you need a third opinion outside of Silas.

>>5894410
>>5895837
>>5896168
>Trust
>>5894246
>>5894895
>Use
>>5894961
>Doubt

>>5894246
>>5894410
>>5894895
>>5894961
>Passive monitor
>>5895837
>Thorough sweep

Roll: 5 - Success!

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>>5897098
Johnson has certainly not made the task easy for you, what with his talk of conspiracies and games. Even so, there is a certain convergence of interests between you and him. Who knows, with a bit of trust, he might even choose to subordinate his own goals under yours. “Maybe I should have stayed a civilian, too. But there's nothing either of us can do about that now. All that's left is to play this game the best we can." You turn to meet his gaze. "And one more thing. Thank you for your confidence, Johnson." His lips curl a little upwards, “You can call me Tim.”

With that out of the way, you briefly consider the possibility of spies onboard your ships. Part of you wants to immediately order a clean search of the whole ship once you return, but it might undermine what little respect you have gained with the men. And with the more difficult half of your sortie still ahead, every little bit counts. You have to approach this as subtly as possible. This way, you can turn your own inexperience into an advantage. If these agents have grown so bold as to near openly spy on Tim, how more carelessly they would treat a ditzy Coreite. Maybe a few silent alarms in the less frequented corridors and cupboards can do wonders...

Let's leave it at that for now, Yamir's already entering the room. His claws rise and neck bends down in imitation of a Terran bow. You and Tim return the gesture. Wordlessly, the hivekeeper moves to a corner of the waiting room and gestures you two to follow. Behind a particular gruesome tapestry depicting several impaled Mir heads, a doorway opens to reveal what would be a spacious office if not for the stacks of papers overflowing from drawers, sacks of baubles caving down shelves, and stalagmites of trash piling on the floor. With a flair, Yamir evades these looming floods and makes for a grand desk upon which a microcosm of room's chaos is re-enacted. Your heart sinks as though torpedoed to see him brutishly swipe his claw clean through the mess and hear the crashing landslide of one of the junk peaks.

You gingerly step in, taking care to keep your arms crossed in front of your stomach and your eyes peeled for any danger. As if tumbling just one heap into a plateau isn't enough, Yamir leans over the desk and toss another box full of paper files into a corner(?) to reveal something resembling a stool underneath. The Shanghain melody rings out, “To other of my kind, this table set is plunder. But you shall know it as a gift.” His eyes glisten in the dim phosphorescent lighting, and you thought you could almost see through them as through a binocular past the gulf of years. “The gift-giver must have died now, as all of your short-lived kind are fated to. But his memories will live on with this Keeper, long after they have been discarded by his own people.”

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>>5897101
The room-as-it-is recedes, replaced by the room-as-it-once-was. Then, there was no need for artificial light as the eastern window had not yet been boarded up to make place for more shelves. Indeed, there were almost no cabinets or drawers of any kind, no place for those relics in a modern foreman's office. The Shanghaian phoenix spread its wings proudly on the wall behind the desk, its outlines burning crisply the way the original never did. The decorations were otherwise spartan, only a few potted lilacs blooming purple on the window sill.

As your eyes wander to the desk, the hologram dissolves, ejecting you back out into the ugly present. The hivekeeper laughs, “As you can see, this whole station was built by your kind, lured by the promises of wealth and power on the planet beneath.” Underneath laughter, there was a bitterness to his speech, “Once they have feasted on this rock. Now we feast on their bones.” He turns to your companion, “This one can hide his flinch, good. You should have brought him last time.” You do not come here to listen to nostalgia and threats, “Can we finally get down to business, your Lowness?”

“Ah, I see your Highness has deigned to learn our lowly speech. Nonetheless, I agree. I have talked enough already.” The hologram expands to surround you again, this time showing the vast emptiness of space punctuated by countless sparkling dots. “Rendering the starscape accurately is harder on the processor, but I like it this way. Gives perspective.” In the center, a yellow star broils and rages. Molosses. “And here we have the centerpiece.” He waves his claws, and the simulation zooms in onto a gas giant, then onto one of its moons, then onto a defense station orbiting it. “We call it Siratone, Heart's Perch. I recommend you stay far away from it, if you still want your heart beating.”

His claws wave you across to the other side of the primary, “Knowing that attacker will avoid the station, the Ter has also stationed a heavy detachment on the other side.” He stabs at the dots. “A pair of Snapdragon heavy cruisers make up the core. Supported by another pair of Marlins and rounded out by three destroyer squadrons. No intel on the latter's composition, but expect a mix of Sparrows and Herons with a couple Albatrosses pulled from system defense.” Yamir's claws cradle his head, “They also have a quick reaction force stationed on the Rimward side of the Corridor, waiting for you to put your head inside the noose before tightening the knot.” He mocks a savage twist. In other words, no retreat once you commit to this battle.

>>5897104
“Thank you, your Lowness Yamir, for this generosity.” Yet something still bugs you. “But why do you want to tell us this in person? Wouldn't a simple radio transmission be good enough?” His expression turns gaunt, his eyes inscrutable. “There is something else I must ask of you. The frigate that pursued you out of Hir-314, do you remember it?” Yes, you nod. The calculating daredevil which would not break off despite your ship's overwhelming firepower. “Its captain is our spy. Indeed, he brings to us all this information in the first place.” And what have you to do with it? “Recently, the Ter has grown suspect. They promoted him, put him in charge of a Heron so he can be more easily monitored.” Yamir points to the dots again, “He is currently deployed with the detachment. I don't like to ask for favours, but please distract the cruisers so he can escape.” If what the hivekeeper has said so far is right, then you have no choice but to pass through this blocking force anyway. “Don't worry, your Lowness. I will do everything I can.” His entire body is visibly released from the tensions.

"If you make it through, there are other favours you can do for us. Choose up to three, and we will handle the rest."
>Sabotage intersystem communications infrastructure (Easy, 50 scraps. You will do this automatically as you move through the sector.)
>Scout the military build up around Melasthemae. (Easy, 50 scraps. May be useful for base bounty below.)
>Destroy a convoy carrying military goods. (Medium, 75 scraps + 25 scraps for each destroyed freighter.)
>Rescue a crippled scout corvette. (Medium, 150 scraps. Encounter with hunter-killer squadron likely.)
>Extract spy from maximum-security prison. (Hard, 250 scraps. You can either go quiet or go loud.)
>Destroy Melasthemae station. (Very hard, 400 scraps. You most likely cannot tackle this alone.)

>>5897105
>Sabotage intersystem communications infrastructure (Easy, 50 scraps. You will do this automatically as you move through the sector.)
>Scout the military build up around Melasthemae. (Easy, 50 scraps. May be useful for base bounty below.)
>Destroy a convoy carrying military goods. (Medium, 75 scraps + 25 scraps for each destroyed freighter.)
Easy work, easy money

>>5897105
>Sabotage intersystem communications infrastructure (Easy, 50 scraps. You will do this automatically as you move through the sector.)
>Destroy a convoy carrying military goods. (Medium, 75 scraps + 25 scraps for each destroyed freighter.)
>Rescue a crippled scout corvette. (Medium, 150 scraps. Encounter with hunter-killer squadron likely.)

>>5897105
>Scout the military build up around Melasthemae. (Easy, 50 scraps. May be useful for base bounty below.)
>Extract spy from maximum-security prison. (Hard, 250 scraps. You can either go quiet or go loud.)
>Destroy Melasthemae station. (Very hard, 400 scraps. You most likely cannot tackle this alone.)
Go big or go home.

>>5897232
+1

>>5897105
>>Scout the military build up around Melasthemae. (Easy, 50 scraps. May be useful for base bounty below.)
>>Extract spy from maximum-security prison. (Hard, 250 scraps. You can either go quiet or go loud.)
>>Destroy Melasthemae station. (Very hard, 400 scraps. You most likely cannot tackle this alone.)


Ambition is our blood.

>>5897160
>>5897232
>>5897709
>Sabotage comms
>>5897160
>>5897294
>>5897882
>Scout station
>>5897160
>>5897232
>>5897709
>Raid convoy


>>5897232
>>5897709
>Rescue scout
>>5897294
>>5897882
>Extract spy
>>5897294
>>5897882
>Destroy station

>>5898838
“For now, we will just take the simple tasks: sabotaging, scouting, and raiding. Maybe once we have familiarised ourselves more with Inner Citar we will consider the rest.” Yamir quickly made some notes before handing you a flashdrive. “That stick contains all the intel you will need for the jobs. And as usual, we will send you a fifth of the rewards, 35 units of fabfeed, in advance. Delivery of the rest can be arranged later.” Not knowing how to shake a Mir's claw, you opt for a bow instead.

“One last thing before you leave. Pahan-Hys has invited you to his maturation ceremony, yes?” News seem to travel quite fast here. You nod with a slight smile, “Yes, and I have accepted his invitation. How can I turn down such an honour?” The binocular in his eyes is reversed, now aiming straight into your heart, “You don't need to flatter him so, the boy knows his own worth. But I'm just curious. Are you prepared to feast on his old skin? There will be no, what you call it, take-away this time."

The way Yamir narrows his eyes calls up something far less pleasant. From a corner of your memory, the lifeless black eye peers out, locking your mind's eyes with a vigorous stare. Slowly but steadily growing louder, the Hivekeeper clacks his mandibles, no doubt amused by his own joke. You bow again to hide the flush of your cheeks and hastily retreat, knocking at least two mountains of paper on your way out.

Before you can run too far, a firm hand grasp your shoulder. “Keep calm. Breathe. In, out. In, out.” As you focus on the instruction, the nauseating impression fades away. The rest of the walk is in complete silence, once again like last tim- no, stop thinking. In, out. Seeing your jitter, Tim starts whistling. Fix your ears on him. Tune out everything else. You are escorted to a loading bay. Looks like Goldsmith has to unlock the shuttle to carry the material after all. All the better, you won't have to look at another Mir on the way back.

Unfortunately, not even your ship can offer escape. You are handed a small packet by a medbay orderly after the customary biocontaminant scan. Apparently, Mir biology is mostly digestible by humans. Mostly. There are some toxins which can cause violent nausea and stomach cramps, which can be prevented by taking the drugs in the packet before eating. It would therefore be reasonable, how you loathe the way that word chokes out any alternatives, to attend the ceremony.

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>>5898849
After a short rest to clear your mind, you meet with Silas and Tim to discuss the upcoming operations. Somewhat out of routine, Tim speaks up, “First, the good news. Molosses would not move out of range for another 58 days, which should give us plenty of time to make all the most important repairs and maintenance checks.” He focuses the hologram on the Molosses task force, “Then the bad news. This is some serious firepower they are fielding to guard the gap. Not to mention the QRF blocking our rear. We can try a hooking manoeuvre, remaining outside of the gravwell, but they must have prepared for that as well.” After the sitrep, Tim hands the show over to Silas, who brings up a new hologram. Some of these designs look similar. Aren't they Directorate ships?

“We gotta blow our way through. And these folks here can help us with that.”
>The Yonaoshi-class light cruisers Yushi and Shishi.
“Ienaga's company. Their ships can toss out a lot of missiles while ensuring we receive none a return. Only problem is, they won't be much good in a prolonged knife-fight with destroyers.”
>The Hunter-class frigate Richardstown.
“I know your history with Roquefort, but he is still a competent commander. His frigate carries enough torpedoes to scare off larger ships, and that threat alone makes him worth bringing along. The armor will crumble from a sneeze, probably a good thing.”
>The Rattlesnake-class armed merchant cruiser Lathe of Heaven
“We still owe Kholodovsky a favour for escorting the Skyline back to port after that ambush, this is our chance to repay it. The hull itself is ancient, but everything else has been kept mostly up-to-date. His coilguns will keep their destroyers at arm's length, as long as there are not too many.”
>The Mousquetaire-class destroyers Razoredge and Scarface
“There are two types of privateers. So far, we have seen the civilised kind. Now we get to the shoot-lifepods-for-fun kind. These ships are still military-spec, sadly, and can more than hold their own against Sparrows. Their leader Liu is also as reasonable as her type gets. Just don't let her lock the door behind you.”
>The Invincible-class converted carrier Invincible
“Okwonko has a serious ego, probably bigger than his hangars. Jokes aside, his strike drones are our best bet for quickly taking out their heavier ships. The carrier itself is clumsy and agonisingly slow, but I wouldn't feel too bad abandoning him if things go south.”

“No pressure to decide everything right now, but it certainly helps to send out feelers early.”

>>5898867
Do we choose one or more?
>The Yonaoshi-class light cruisers Yushi and Shishi.
>The Rattlesnake-class armed merchant cruiser Lathe of Heaven
>The Mousquetaire-class destroyers Razoredge and Scarface

>>5898867
>The Rattlesnake-class armed merchant cruiser Lathe of Heaven
>The Mousquetaire-class destroyers Razoredge and Scarface
>The Yonaoshi-class light cruisers Yushi and Shishi.
Might be a hard sell with so many people, but it could work.


>The Invincible-class converted carrier Invincible
>The Hunter-class frigate Richardstown.

Keep these two up in case we do the bigger missions.

>>5899002
You could send messages to as many as you want, but if the Ter catch wind of a massive fleet congregating outside of Molosses they will call in reinforcements.
>>5899111
Since we are breaking through a defensive line here only the captains that come with us will be available for future missions.

>>5899339
Bring all five then.

>>5898867
>The Yonaoshi-class light cruisers Yushi and Shishi.
>The Hunter-class frigate Richardstown.
>The Rattlesnake-class armed merchant cruiser Lathe of Heaven
>The Mousquetaire-class destroyers Razoredge and Scarface

>>5899002
+1
Just take three. Too much and they start murdering each other

Sorry everyone I have an important report coming up tomorrow so next update is coming probably the day after that. Since we are already on page 9, that would also be the last update before I start a new thread.

>>5902121
No problem QM!