The wreck of the heavy cruiser Wales looms outside the bridge windows, a silent reminder of the War’s destructiveness. The vessel itself is mostly intact, with several large holes near the engineering areas likely caused by Imperial missiles. What is left of the paint on the ship’s hull has faded and begun to flake off from constant exposure to the sun’s rays.

“Jesus…” Tom sighs, craning his neck to get a better view of the stricken vessel.

“This is horrible,” Corrigan mutters, surveying the damage. “It looks as though they were attacked from behind without any warning.”

Tom sits back, raising an eyebrow at Corrigan. “You’ve never heard of the Wales? It was an experimental heavy cruiser deployed right before the War ended.” He points to the engines. “It had some new kind of stealth system to conceal its emissions. Anyway, they sent it into Imperial territory on a recon op, and they never heard back from it. The War ended about twelve days later, and the ship fell into a weird legal status…” He trails off, talking with his hands. “The Empire didn’t have the legal rights to salvage it on account of it being Federal property, but the Federation can’t get to it on account of anti-salvage laws that the Empire put in place to preserve Imperial war wrecks.”

“So it just drifted since the end of the War?” Corrigan leans curiously toward Tom.

“Sort of,” he explains. I’m not super familiar with the details,” he looks back at you, expecting you to fill in the gaps. It just so happens that you’re familiar with the ship’s story.

“The Wales was declared missing at first,” you say. “They didn’t actually know what happened to it, but everyone figured it had been destroyed…” You frown. “It wasn’t until about a year after the end of the War that the wreck was actually discovered. Still, it got grandfathered in under those laws, which means that neither government can touch it.” You look out at the wreck, scanning for any signs of salvaging going on. “And it appears that nobody has touched it since then.”

Tom glances down at his sensors. “Sir, I just finished running a scan of the ship’s interior,” he says. “It looks like most of the internal compartments still have air.” He looks back at you. “It’s your call… But there’s probably some valuable, high-tech stuff in there that nobody’s going to miss…” He points to an undamaged airlock hatch on the underside of the wreck. “I can sling us up to the Wales and we can send a party aboard.”

>”Alright, let’s get ready.”
>"There shouldn't be any rooms left pressurized..."
>”What kind of high-tech stuff are we talking?”
>”No. This is a war wreck. Besides, if the authorities catch us, we’ll be in big trouble.”

>>890358
>"There shouldn't be any rooms left pressurized..."

File: I feel the rock!.gif (1.99 MB, 281x192)

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>>890358
>”Alright, let’s get ready.”
But be careful cause
>"There shouldn't be any rooms left pressurized..."
Honestly it seems a decent idea to maybe give it a quick once over, confirm things, and maybe snatch a valuable system or two; but in general this wreck is a hassel as so many things can go pear shaped on us. It would probably be the most valuable to us to sell the wreck location to some third party to scavenge, after making sure its not a trap so said third party doesn't take things personal. Definitely shouldn't try and do the whole thing ourselves, or besides a system or three take too much that says we raided the political land mine. All of this assumes its uninhabited of course.

Oh and hurray its this awesome quest!

>>890358
>>890479
Bah my reading comprehension is crap, the wreck was already discovered.

>>890358
>"There shouldn't be any rooms left pressurized..."
>”What kind of high-tech stuff are we talking?”
Should we download the data from the black box? Also, get to the bridge, depressurize all rooms. Even if this kills any survivors, we'll still be absolved of murder by virtue of everybody here already being supposed to be dead.

>>890358
>>"There shouldn't be any rooms left pressurized..."
>”What kind of high-tech stuff are we talking?”

>>890515
? That's either killing navy men or random squatters (possibly pirates but probably not). We wouldn't be absolved of shit. Though this does speak to my rogue trader sensibilities (murderhobo as you can get away with without being declared heretic or biting off more than you can chew) probably a bad idea, as well as just being a dirtbag move (aka the crew says "You wanna what!").

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>>890570
>aka the crew says "You wanna what!"
Oh right, we actually have to be a moral person. Forgive me for that, murderhobo tendencies took over for a moment.

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“Those rooms shouldn’t be pressurized…” You frown, leaning forward.

Tom swivels back to face you. “It’s possible that the attack only damaged the engines,” he says. “Or it’s also possible that whatever happened killed most or all of the crew before the hull could be fully compromised,” he grimaces.

“I see,” you grimace too. Either way it sounds grisly. “So what about salvage? What kind of high-tech stuff are we talking about?” You glance at the wreck once more, a cold chill going up your spine.

“It’s a Navy ship,” Tom says bluntly. “So there are definitely going to be small arms that the Marine compliment would’ve used. And there are things like military star charts, first-aid supplies, and various pieces of standard military equipment…” He grins slightly. “But the Wales was also a test bed for new technology, so I’m sure we can find some goodies aboard. Probably a lot of stuff that’s still classified. Whether it be weapons, advanced starship parts, tools, and probably whatever is left of their stealth drive.”

“That makes sense,” you reply. As he swivels back to his console, another thought crosses your mind. “Did your scan pick up any life-forms?”

Tom doesn’t turn around, but you can tell by the tone of his voice that he’s grimacing. “I couldn’t pick anything up… But this scanner’s old… It can’t detect any life-forms deeper than about two compartments’ worth of space regardless. All I know for certain is which rooms still have air.”

“So there could be survivors,” you add. Tom stands up and stretches, turning to face you.

“Not likely, sir.” He frowns. “It’s been two years. They wouldn’t have had enough provisions for six months. If anyone’s aboard, it’d be squatters.” He rubs the back of his neck. “Anyway, I’m thinking that you and me should be the only ones who go aboard. Virgo and the girls can hold down the fort while we’re gone. That sound good to you, sir?”

>”Sounds good to me.”
>”Actually, I have a different idea for who should go aboard.” (specify)

>>890671
>>”Sounds good to me.”

>>890671
>>”Sounds good to me.”
Not like anybody else has military experience except Virgo (I think). Just make sure everybody keeps the engines working to make a run for it, Corrigan keeps the missiles ready in case somebody pops in, and we gotta come up with an alibi to keep the passengers from questioning too much.

>>890671
>”Sounds good to me.”

File: I promise this isn't a hi(...).png (2.27 MB, 1920x816)

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“Alright,” you reply, getting up from your chair. “Let’s do this.” With that, Tom maneuvers the ship toward the airlock, mating the forward airlock to the hatch on the Wales.

The two of you head downstairs, getting Virgo and explaining the plan to him. The three of you come up with a story to tell the passengers. As far as they know, you came across a derelict freighter and are looking for survivors. Virgo heads up to the bridge to join Corrigan, and you and Tom head forward to the airlock.

“Okay, guys,” Virgo’s voice crackles over the intercom. “The room you’ll be entering into is a rescue trunk. It should have its own independent oxygen supply, as well as some soft-suits in a locker. Go ahead and put your earpieces in so that I can communicate with you once you get inside.”

The two of you do as instructed, donning the small radios that clip to your earlobes. There is a very uncomfortable silence as the two of you approach the airlock door, waiting for Virgo to open it. Tom hands you a short assault rifle from the armory, slinging an identical one over his shoulder.

"Just in case, sir." He frowns at you. You sling the rifle over your own shoulder.

“Also, captain,” Virgo’s voice buzzes in your ear. “I bet you already know this, but shipwrecks are an incredibly dangerous place. At any given moment, a system could fail and kill either one of you, so be on the lookout for things that are obviously broken or damaged, and avoid them.”

“Right,” you nod.

"Oh, and one other thing," Virgo adds hurriedly. "Once you get far enough into the ship, these little two-way earpieces probably won't be able to get a signal from me, so you'll probably be cut off from me after a certain point."

Tom looks over at you, a hint of hesitation flashes across his face as the airlock door hisses open. “You ready, sir?”

>”We shouldn’t be doing this.” (leave the Wales)
>”Ready as I’ll ever be.” (enter the Wales)

>>890955
>”Ready as I’ll ever be.” (enter the Wales)

>>890955
>”Ready as I’ll ever be.” (enter the Wales)

>>890955
>>”Ready as I’ll ever be.” (enter the Wales)

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“I’m as ready as I’ll ever be,” you reply bluntly. With that, the two of you walk through the open airlock door and through the tube leading to the Wales’ airlock.

The door is marred from space debris and time, but the manual override functions properly. You grip the handle, cranking it sideways and stepping back. The door opens with a groan, a small gust of wind rushing into the rescue trunk from your own airlock.

It is dark in the rescue trunk, and the small room smells of rust and oil, as well as another scent you can’t quite place. There are four soft suits on the wall, all appearing to be the bulky, one-size-fits-all variants with built-in draw-belts for proper fitting. The emergency lights blink on and flicker.

You and Tom walk over to the soft-suits, examining them. All four appear to be in good condition, and you decide to put them on in case you need to go into a vacuum at some point. As you tighten the drawstrings and don the helmet, you hear Tom’s voice crackle over the comm channel. “Hey Virgo,” he begins. “We’re in the rescue trunk. Just donned some soft-suits. We’re about to head deeper into the ship.” The helmet is heavy and thick, with a small slit for vision.

“Understood,” Virgo replies. “I’m going to close the airlock behind you for safety’s sake.”

You hear the hiss of the Bad Habit’s airlock closing behind you as Tom approaches a control panel on the wall. He punches a few buttons, then the regular lights blink on. “Looks like we’ve still got some juice in the reserve batteries.” He points to the door next to him. With the helmet on, you can’t see his facial expression, but you know it’s probably the coolly professional one that he takes whenever there is work to be done.

You walk over and wrench the door open carefully, it is an old-fashioned bulkhead door with a wheel for a handle. The two of you step through the doorway and into a hallway of some kind.

“Virgo,” you begin. “Where are we?”

There is a slight pause as he consults the scan of the ship. “You’re in one of the two outboard-causeways. They run the whole length of the ship. The Bridge is in the aft-end of the ship, near the top. You’ll have to go up a few flights of stairs if you want to get there. Engineering is straight aft, but it looks like you’ll have to cut through a depressurized section of hallway to get there, and it looks like most of that sector is depressurized too. The Armory and storage rooms are at the front end of the ship, near the gunnery stations. But you’ll have to cut through the crew quarters to get there.”

“Understood,” you affirm.

Tom looks at you as you turn on the shoulder-mounted flashlight. Even with the emergency power on, the causeway is lit primarily by the few remaining emergency lights. “So sir, where to?”

>”Let’s go to Engineering first.”
>”Let’s go to the Bridge first.”
>”Let’s go to the Armory first.”

>>891267
>>”Let’s go to the Armory first.”

>>891267
>>”Let’s go to the Bridge first.”

>>891267
>”Let’s go to the Bridge first.”

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“Let’s head to the Bridge first,” you reply. With that, the two of you begin walking carefully aft toward the main stairwells. The markings on the walls indicate your proximity to the stairs. The light on your shoulder illuminates the area for about fifteen feet in front of you.

“Looks like that’s the stairwell,” Tom points to an open area off to the side of the hallway. The two of you walk over to the stairs, where you find one of the Wales’ crew.

Or at least what’s left of him. He appears to be a Marine, judging by what’s left of his uniform. The body is decayed beyond recognition, closer to a skeleton than a proper corpse. There is a rusted pistol in his right hand, finger still resting on the trigger. And there is a hole in the right side of his head, just behind the temple.

“Looks like he took the express elevator out,” Tom says grimly. “Can’t say I blame him.” You notice the faded rank insignia on the shoulder of his green jumper. He was a first sergeant, senior enlisted. You carefully step around the body, taking the first step up the stairs.

“Let’s go,” you say bluntly. “We’re not here to look at corpses.” The both of you ascend the two flights of stairs without incident, finding yourselves at the door to the bridge. You have to use the manual override to open it, and upon doing so, you find yourselves standing in a graveyard.

You see two bodies lying against the starboard wall, next to some consoles. They wear the blue fatigues of enlisted bridge crew. There are two more corpses laying on the floor on the opposite side, one splayed at an odd angle, and the other looking like he had just fallen asleep and died.

The two of you walk silently through the bridge, making your way to the front of the room, which is dominated by a large set of panoramic windows. The lights in here are dim, but all of the consoles appear to still be functioning.

“Sir,” Tom finally breaks the silence, startling you slightly. “This place is a damn tomb.”

“You’ve got that right,” you swallow nervously. The captain’s chair is empty, and you see a hard drive sitting on the armrest. You walk over and pick it up, seeing that it is probably the ship’s log.

>Plug the hard-drive into the ship’s computer and see what happens.
>Attempt to get a damage report from the engineering console.
>View the ship’s manifest from the quartermaster’s console.
>Examine the bodies more closely.
>Get out of here.

>>891550
>>Attempt to get a damage report from the engineering console.

>>891550
>Attempt to get a damage report from the engineering console.

>>891550
>>Attempt to get a damage report from the engineering console.

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“I’m going to see about pulling up a damage report,” you call out to Tom, who nods at you.

Walking over to the engineering console, you see a discarded, empty pistol laying on the floor next to the chair with two empty magazines lying next to it. You nudge it out of the way with your boot, then sit down in the chair and begin using the console.

“It looks like the ship’s entire propulsion system was knocked out…” You think out loud as you look at the damage report. “And the communication equipment appears to be busted as well. Looks like all of it got fried.”

“So whoever attacked them wanted the ship to be unable to move or call for help,” Tom replies. “Still, you’d think there would be more signs of foul play.” He kneels down next to one of the bodies. “The wounds on these guys are self-inflicted. I’m not seeing any evidence of a firefight.”

“Yeah,” you say. “That’s pretty odd. Still, it could’ve just been a hit-and-run attack that left them stranded.” You pull up a map of the ship and go into a more detailed damage report.

“That’s possible. Still, why didn’t the Empire ever claim responsibility?” You raise your eyebrow at the statement. That was always an odd part of the story to you as well. The Empire always claimed responsibility of ships that they had destroyed.

“This damage report indicates that the comms equipment went down a full two days after the engines were knocked out,” you frown.

“What the hell?” Tom walks over and looks at the damage report. “Are you sure that’s right?”

“It says so right here,” you point to the date of the report. However, something else catches your attention. The first damage report, the one about the engines, was filed four days after the ship was listed as missing.

“This is getting weirder and weirder…” Tom trails off, reading the damage report. “We’ve got to find the ship’s log.”

“I think it might be that hard-drive on the captain’s chair back there.” You point to the chair. Tom walks over and picks up the drive, weighing it in his hand.

“Yeah, this is almost certainly it.” He brings it close to his vision slit, examining it. “Either it’s the log or a copy of the black box. They use these hard drives to store both. He walks over to the main screen on the starboard wall, pointing to a slot in the projector. “Should we test it out? See what’s on it?”

>”Sure.”
>”Let’s hang on to it and review it when we get back aboard the Bad Habit.”
>Write-in.

>>891778
>”Sure.”

>>891778
>>”Let’s hang on to it and review it when we get back aboard the Bad Habit.”

>>891778
>”Sure.”

>>891778
>>”Sure.”

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I'm gonna call the session here for tonight. We'll be resuming tomorrow at 4:00 PM and I plan on running later into the night than I did tonight.

Mood music:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5nFRlplVLsU

What do you guys think happened to the Wales?

Also, despite my tripcode changing, I promise it's the real me. I misspelled part of it.

>>891892
That there was an accident, the captain wanted to keep the mission going, things got worse, and then everybody died

>>891892

Infiltrator on board. Sabotaged the engines, left the ship stranded. Couldn't get away, sabotage was discovered and the crew went paranoid.

>>891892
What I want to know is why we don't have spacesuits on our ship and have to resort to stealing them from war-wrecks. How does Cyntia even perform maintenance?

>>892527
Oh, and why the wreck still has gravity.

>>892527
Allen cheaped out when he bought the Bad Habit, so it didn't come with suits. However, pretty much every system aboard the ship can be accessed from inside the vessel, so space suits aren't really necessary for general maintenance.

>>892529
The wreck is running on emergency power, which routes primarily to the life-support and gravity systems.

>>891892
Mysterious alien mind control magic that made everyone super depressed. Maybe they stumbled upon a world spanning entity capable of inflicting hallucinations.

“Sure,” you reply. Tom nods and carefully inserts the hard drive into the slot, pressing a few buttons and stepping back. You swivel the chair to see the screen better as it flickers to life.

There is a tired-looking man on the screen, sitting in the captain’s chair and wearing wrinkled dress blues. There are the sounds of several quiet conversations in the background, likely the rest of the bridge crew. “This is acting CO, Commander Ronald Berkley…” He begins to speak tiredly. “As of fifteen minutes ago, Captain Sutler is now deceased. We are maintaining radio silence as per orders, and attempting to fix our primary drive. Much of the engineering department is depressurized, and the hull has been compromised in several areas…” The video cuts out to static as the Commander quickly turns away from the camera, shouting something. As the video and audio warp beyond recognition, Tom kills the projector.

“Looks like most of the data is either encrypted or corrupted…” He sighs, yanking the drive from the slot. “The only way we’re getting the rest of this information is if we get Solfrid to decode it.”

“Right,” you nod. As you stand up, Tom walks over to you.

“So we know for certain that their captain was killed,” he begins. “Still, that entry was undated. There’s no telling when it was made.” He holds out the hard drive for you to take.

“So what do you think happened?” You take the log from Tom, pocketing it.

“It’s possible that their captain was killed in the attack,” Tom begins. “New CO probably wasn’t prepared for command, went mad with power…” He shakes his head. “And then there was probably a mutiny, or at least an attempt at one.” He kneels down and picks up the empty pistol on the floor, examining it. “Either that, or they kept following his orders, and just ran out of food. Some of them would’ve starved to death, and others probably took the easy way out like that first sergeant downstairs.”

“I don’t like this ship,” you mutter.

“Me either,” Tom agrees. “This whole place is bad…” He turns to you. “Still, we came aboard to see about salvage. You still want to look for some?”

>”Let’s head down to the Armory, that’s where all the good stuff will be.”
>”Engineering might have some worthwhile salvage.”
>”I’m going to pull up the ship’s manifest first, see what they were carrying.”
>”I think we should get back to the Bad Habit and get out of here.”
>Write-in.

>>893067
>>”I’m going to pull up the ship’s manifest first, see what they were carrying.”

>>893067
>”I’m going to pull up the ship’s manifest first, see what they were carrying.”

>>893067
> Armory and storage
Hopefully we'll find some bricks so we can build a wall and make New Albany great again.

>>893067
>”I’m going to pull up the ship’s manifest first, see what they were carrying.”

“Give me a minute,” you reply, walking over to the quartermaster’s console. “I’m going to check the ship’s manifest.”

You sit down at the console, opening the manifest and viewing its contents:


FNV WALES: CARGO MANIFEST

1x crate, sensor equipment
4x crates, small arms
1x container, electronics
1x long box, [CLASSIFIED]
4x crates, activated carbon
4x crates, quartz




You frown. The list isn’t specific, but there are almost certainly some things that sound worthwhile. You figure the electronics and small arms could come in handy at some point at least.

“Find anything?” Tom walks up behind you, peering at the screen.

“This is the list of everything in the storage rooms near the armory,” you reply. “It’s pretty vague though.”

“Sounds about right,” Tom nods. “They’re always vague about military cargo. Sometimes they even intentionally mislabel stuff to keep prying eyes away from it. So I assume you want to head to the armory and storage rooms?”

>”Yeah.”
>”Actually, let’s head to engineering first.”
>”No. We’re leaving.”

>>893207
>>”Actually, let’s head to engineering first.”

>>893207
> actually let's head to engineering
Hahaha, they took the mysterious long box job, suckers!

>>893207
>>”Actually, let’s head to engineering first.”

>>893218
So glad we didn't take it then. We need a bigger ship first. Also REALLY good security and vetting.

“Actually, let’s head to Engineering first,” you reply. With that, the two of you leave the bridge. It is a relief to be out of that place and back in the main hallway. The two of you are quiet for most of the time that it takes to get to the hatch leading into the engineering deck.

“Looks like the room behind this bulkhead is completely depressurized,” Tom says, pointing to a red light next to the door. “These suits should automatically begin using their o2 tanks when we enter the vacuum.” With that, you close the door behind you and walk up to the door that Tom is standing in front of.

He wrenches it open, and you both brace as the air in the closed section of hallway is sucked out. All sound goes with it, and the only noise is the sound of air being cycled through your suit, as well as your breathing.

“Captain,” Tom’s voice crackles in your right ear. “You ready?”

“Let’s go,” you reply. The two of you step into the engineering sector. It is completely dark, save for the lights from your suits, and the two of you move carefully. As you pass a certain point, you feel your body go weightless as the automatic magnets on your boots engage.

“Looks like the gravity generators for this sector are out,” Tom notes as his suit does the same. “Be on the lookout for sharp debris floating.”

As Tom speaks, you take a sluggish step forward, your left boot automatically disengaging from the metal floor. It is a clunky walk reminiscent of a robot on loose ground. The two of you continue like this for about fifteen feet, but are stopped when you reach another doorway.

You open the door and are nearly blinded by the light flowing in. The next room has a very large hole blasted in the outboard side of the wall. The two of you move carefully along the damaged hallway, avoiding the pieces of floor that appear to only be hanging on by pieces of wiring.

As the two of you reach the entrance to the main engine room, Tom gets your attention. “Sir, there’s another door over here.” He points to a small door off to the side of the hallway. There is a label above it indicating that it is the chief engineer’s office. “There might be some useful stuff in there.”

>”Let’s check it out then.”
>”We’ll check it out on the way back. Let’s go into the engine room first.”
>”Let’s split up.” (specify)

>>893373
>>”Let’s check it out then.”

>>893373
>>”Let’s check it out then.”

>>893373
>do eeett!
Is cancer still a thing in the future?

>>893403
There are significantly more reliable treatments for it in the future. Still, with all of the new industrial advances and discoveries, plenty of new cancer-causing things have been discovered. Bone cancer is very common among the working-class of many mining colonies.

If you're asking because of the cosmic radiation, don't worry. The suits are shielded. I'm pretty confident that the shielding hasn't degraded from lack of maintenance.

>>893373
>”Let’s check it out then.”

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“Let’s check it out,” you agree. The two of you walk over to the door. You grip the handle and open it slowly, peering inside as you do.

As you open the door, a piece of metal smacks your helmet loudly, forcing you back a couple of steps. “You alright?” Tom’s voice crackles in your ear.

“I’m fine,” you reply as you grab the piece of metal and pull it away from your face. It is a sheet metal clipboard with a piece of paper still attached to it. It appears to be a to-do list.

Tossing the clipboard aside, you enter the office to find that much of the room’s contents remain undisturbed. However, you notice a person in a soft suit floating in the corner of the room, near the ceiling. As the suit turns to face you, it becomes obvious that the suit’s wearer is dead. His helmet’s front plate is lifted, exposing his head to the vacuum. You look away as the corpse’s nightmarish face comes into view.

“Let’s just get whatever tools we can find,” you say as you turn to the tool rack. There are plenty of power tools, as well as a large bag to hold them. You take the bag and fill it, zipping it up and getting ready to leave the room.

“Hold up a minute,” Tom gets your attention. You look back to see him looking under the desk in the middle of the room. “There’s something down here…” He yanks a bag out from under the desk and opens it.

“What’s in the bag?” You approach him.

“You’re not gonna believe this.” He pulls out one of the objects in the bag, handing it to you.

A gold bar, large and probably quite heavy, sits in your hand. You examine it, seeing the Federal Treasury Eagle stamped on the bottom of the bar. Underneath the eagle is a small area of file marks. The serial numbers have been filed down.

“This bag’s full of ‘em,” Tom adds. “Easily twenty bars.”

>”Leave them. The serials have been filed off.”
>”This is too good to be true. It has to be a setup.”
>”Why would the Engineer have had gold bars?”
>Take them.

>>893626
>”Why would the Engineer have had gold bars?”
Oh shit. I think we should take them,dudes. Hide it in our private quarters,sell it bit by bit in some backwater planet,that kind of stuff. What do you all think?

>>893626
>>”Why would the Engineer have had gold bars?”

>>893638
something is majorly corked here. We need more information.

>>893626
>Take them.
Looks like we will be getting those missiles too. And a new paint job for tripe!
I don't see the point in asking questions that we clearly aren't going to get any answers to right now. And if this was a setup we are already in a position to get fucked anyway.

“Tom…” You hold the bar up, examining it again as you speak. “Why would the chief engineer have a stash of gold bars?”

Tom gently sets the bag aside, zipping it closed. “Could’ve been carrying it for some clandestine mission. The Federation funded all sorts of anti-Empire movements and guerrilla forces during the War.” He trails off, as if lost in thought. “Though it’s also plausible that the gold is stolen. Might explain the reason the ship ended up like this. The crew could’ve turned on each other after finding out about the gold.”

“And those are the only reasonable explanations?” You raise an eyebrow at your first officer, even though you know he can’t see your face.

“Anything’s possible. This whole situation reeks of secret spy stuff though,” he adds. “If we plan on bringing this stuff aboard, we’ll need to scan every bar for embedded tracking devices.”

“You think the Federation would go that far to keep its gold safe?” You release the bar from your hand letting it float aimlessly around you.

“I don’t know,” he admits. “But you never can be too sure. What I don’t get is why the Federation left this gold here in the first place. I can understand not wanting to violate the treaty, but they could’ve sent a secret crew to pick up the gold if they know this ship was carrying it.” The floating bar drifts over to him and he gently plucks it from its trajectory.

“So it’s possible that the Federal Treasury doesn’t even know that these bars are gone.” You cross your arms contemplatively.

Tom seems to inspect the bar closely, then you hear him sigh. “Dammit. These bars are hot cargo…” He points to the file marks. “They’ve ground the numbers off. If we got caught with this in our hold, they’d lock us up and throw away the key.” He passes the bar back to you before continuing. “And the Federation has tons of plainclothes officers posing as gold buyers… I wouldn’t trust any random merchant to not snitch either.” Tom pauses for a brief moment, then looks at you, his shoulders perking up as if he’s just had an idea. “Wait. You said that pirate Blackheart is a friend of the ship, right?”

>”She is. We could pass it off to her in exchange for standards.”
>”It isn’t even worth having it in our hold. What if we get randomly searched?”
>”And what makes you think she’d take the gold if it’s as hot as you say it is?”
>Write-in.

>>893979
>It isn’t even worth having it in our hold. What if we get randomly searched?”

>>893979
>”She is. We could pass it off to her in exchange for standards.”
But we have to be extra careful. Maybe melt em down asap?

>>893979
>>”And what makes you think she’d take the gold if it’s as hot as you say it is?”

>>893979
>>”And what makes you think she’d take the gold if it’s as hot as you say it is?”

>>893979
>”She is. We could pass it off to her in exchange for standards.”
And next time we see her or swing by Reznor's Pride we should get a diplomatic pouch.
We could stash it in some nook in one of the unused cabins and say it must have came with the ship. Or in one of the passenger cabins and say it was theirs ;^)

>>894021
>>894066
She is a fucking pirate, that's why. She must have channels for liquidating booty that she steals. That's her main line of business.

>>893979
>”She is. We could pass it off to her in exchange for standards.”
If we do this though we're doing it through a dead-drop. This is some hot stuff.

>>894069
Heavily support the "diplomatic pouch" idea. We can put them in that engine crawlspace,after thoroughly scanning all of them. If push comes to shove,we can tell we didn't know it was there,and mention that Bad Habit was used in that super secret mission.
>>894109
We can just call her and tell we need to meet personally. We can do this from any embassy.

>>893979
Actually would cynthia have the appropriate gear in the machine shop to melt this down? While a lot of gold it seems its not known to be missing by the feds.We could pass it off as non-aligned. Don't get me wrong its still hot stuff, but not instantly indicative of having ripped of the fed reserve in that case.

>>894117
We could also just call her and tell her to pay us a marginally smaller amount otherwise and take it on faith we stashed it at place A or coordinates X. Bonus for us is she won't come seeking revenge because we'll have actually done just that and not ripped her off. Also means the gold spends less time aboard so we have a lesser chance of getting pinched. Mind you I like your diplomatic angle but in any case we're going to have to bring some (or at least most, naive elf might slip up, and its not like we'll cheat her share) up on the full situation, and hear their opinions then. I'm probably just spitballing options that are unfeasible once we know more information or something happens in this thread though ahahaha.

>>894126
>would cynthia have the appropriate gear in the machine shop to melt this down?

Unfortunately, no. The most she could do is use a die grinder to open the bars up and remove any tracking devices, assuming any are in fact present.

Also, eating a late dinner, it'll be a little bit until the next update.

>>893979
>>”She is. We could pass it off to her in exchange for standards.”

“She is,” you reply with a sly grin. “We could hand this off to her in exchange for standards. If anyone knows how to make gold disappear, it’s her.” With that, you toss the bar back to Tom and he puts it into the bag, slinging it over his shoulder. It is identical to the tool bag over your own shoulder, so nobody would have any idea that there’s gold in it.

“Good,” he nods. “Anyway, let’s get to the engine room.” The two of you leave the engineer’s office and go over to the door leading to the engine room. It is already partially open, so you pry it the rest of the way apart and step inside carefully. It is pitch black in the engine room, and your light only manages to illuminate small parts of things. From what you can see, everything looks scorched all to hell.

You feel something bump against you as you step further into the room. It feels like a trash bag full of something that used to be soft until it froze. Pushing it away, your hand sinks in and you immediately realize that it’s the disfigured body of one of the crew.

Your heart rate and breathing begin to race as you step back quickly, bumping into Tom. “Everything alright, sir?” You glance back as his voice buzzes in your ear. You begin to calm down, shining your light toward the body as it begins to float away.

“I’m fine,” you reply. The body wears the charred remains of the utility gray jumpers worn by engineering crew. He was cooked by whatever exploded in here.

As you move the light’s beam around the room, you notice that pretty much everything has been ruined by the blast. It looks like they tried to repair the engines afterward though, judging by the discarded welders and cutters floating near the primary drive. Those particular tools are already ones Cynthia has on-hand, so there’s no real reason to get them.

“Doesn’t look like there’s much in here, sir.” Tom says what you’ve been thinking ever since you got into the room.

>”You’re right, let’s head to the storage rooms and get this over with.”
>”There might be something, let me look around first.” (roll 1d100, best of three)

Rolled 11 (1d100)

>>894609
>>”There might be something, let me look around first.” (roll 1d100, best of three)
Witness!

Rolled 8 (1d100)

>>894609
let me try to save this.

Rolled 67 (1d100)

>>894609
>>”There might be something, let me look around first.” (roll 1d100, best of three)

>>894647
Thank you senpai

>>894647
Good job, Cyan Anon.

If your roll had been below 11, we would've come across an environmental hazard and had to roll another 1d100 for injury.

>>894729
Wew lad. What's the lewt,OP?

>>894832
Writing it up now. I wouldn't want to spoil it just yet.

>>894832
It's (space) gold teeth that you pry out of the dead bodies.

File: It looks something like this.png (381 KB, 1024x814)

381 KB PNG

“Hold up,” you say, walking deeper into the engine room. “I think I see something…” You crane your neck as much as the suit allows you to, seeing what looks to be the glint of shiny metal floating through the back of the room.

You disengage your boots’ magnets, pushing off from the floor and gliding toward the object. Upon arriving at the spot where it was, you find yourself somewhat lost. Engaging your boots again and sticking to the ceiling, you look around for what you saw, wondering if it might’ve been your imagination playing tricks on you. However, just as you go to walk back to where you were, something metal smacks the back of your helmet.

You turn around and pluck a strange, revolver-like contraption out of the air, examining it. It’s huge, with a cylinder almost a foot in diameter, and you imagine it probably weighs more than would be practical in a firefight. There are loops for a sling, and when you open the action, you see four out of the six massive shells are still in place.

Floating back to Tom and orienting yourself toward the floor correctly, you hand it to him. “You ever seen something like this? I think it’s a cannon-caliber revolver of some kind.”

Tom greedily cradles the weapon, examining it thoroughly. “This is a General Standard Model 5000!” He exclaims as though being handed a present on Christmas morning. “They don’t even make these anymore.” He looks back to you, his shoulders drooping as he returns the gun to you. “They’re multi-purpose revolvers. They can be used for everything from shooting 4-gauge shot shells to driving rivets, to starting controlled avalanches or launching grenades.”

You weigh the monstrosity in your hands. “Nice. Do they still make ammunition for it?”

Tom nods. “Yeah,” he says. “They still make rivets and grenades that size, and 4-gauge pump-action shotguns are still pretty common in the Frontiers, so there’s plenty of companies making ammo for them.” You can tell he’s got a grin on his face. “Also, you can custom manufacture ammunition for them if you’ve got the right equipment.”

“And I’m assuming we’ve got the right equipment?” You aim down the weapon’s crude sights, pointing it at nowhere in particular.

“You bet we do,” Tom says.

“Awesome,” you nod.

>”Well, we may as well take a look in the storage rooms now.”
>”Let’s get out of here.”
>”Let’s drop this stuff off in the rescue trunk before we head to the storage rooms, that way we don’t have to lug all of it around.”
>Write-in.

>>894974
>>”Let’s drop this stuff off in the rescue trunk before we head to the storage rooms, that way we don’t have to lug all of it around.”

>>894974
>”Well, we may as well take a look in the storage rooms now.”

>>894988
This,hopefully. Take the gold with us,though. Don't wanna take no risks.

>>894974
>>”Let’s drop this stuff off in the rescue trunk before we head to the storage rooms, that way we don’t have to lug all of it around.”

I'm gonna wait ten minutes for a tiebreaker then roll a 1d2.

File: confused aidoru.jpg (174 KB, 640x640)

174 KB JPG

>>895145
>3 vs 1
>Tie
I think you need to recount man

>>895160
It's a vote of if we should leave the gold in the rescue trunk or not. Since 20 gold bricks is heavy as fuck.

>>895160
Ah balls. I miscounted. Sorry. The one didn't look like a vote when I was skimming. Writing now.

“Let’s drop all of this stuff off at the rescue trunk so it doesn’t weigh us down when we go to the storage rooms,” you say. The two of you head back to the pressurized part of the hallway, walking slowly toward the rescue trunk.

“So sir,” Tom begins. “What are we going to use the money from this gold for?” You hear him grunt as he readjusts the heavy bag on his shoulder.

“I’ve got a few ideas,” you begin. “Corrigan was talking about some better missiles… And we could always put some away in the emergency fund…” You trail off, thinking of other uses for the cash. “Of course, we could use the money for upgrades to the ship. Engines, better sensors, a faster sublight drive…” You sigh. “The list goes on and on.”

“That it does,” Tom agrees.

For the next minute or so, the two of you are quiet. Then, you hear a burst of static over the earpiece. You look over to Tom, who is already looking at you.

“I heard it too, sir,” he says worriedly. “Someone either just started listening in, or dropped out of the comm network.” You begin to worry at the second bit.

“Virgo,” you begin authoritatively. “Come in. Do you copy?” There is a long, uncomfortable silence as you listen to your own breathing in the helmet.

Then there is another burst of static. “Roger, sir.” Virgo’s raspy voice rumbles in your ear. “Reading you loud and clear.”

Tom is the next to speak. “Virgo, is your scan picking up anyone besides us?” He speaks in a tone you haven’t heard in a long time. It’s the same voice he used to use when he was in the co-pilot’s seat.

“I’m not getting any signs of activity aboard the Wales,” he begins. “But there is something strange… I’m picking up a noise on the comm channel. It’s weak, but it almost sounds like an old, blank, vinyl record being played…”

You focus on the background noise, hearing both static, and a kind of whispery crackle above the static. “I think I hear it too.” You look over at Tom. “Any idea what it could be?”

“Could just be the ship’s intercom network automatically linking with our stuff,” he shrugs. “Still, it could be just about anything else.”

>”Screw the storage rooms, we’re leaving.”
>”Stick with the plan.”
>”We’ll leave this stuff inside the Bad Habit’s airlock and lock it behind us, just in case.”
>Write-in.

>>895308
>>”We’ll leave this stuff inside the Bad Habit’s airlock and lock it behind us, just in case.”

>>895308
>>”We’ll leave this stuff inside the Bad Habit’s airlock and lock it behind us, just in case.”

>>895313
Do this but scan and hide the gold already. No need to expose ourselves to risk. Also,if shit happens,just throw everything but the gun back in this fucking ship and sell its coordinates to our pirate friend.

>>895308
>"We’ll leave this stuff inside the Bad Habit’s airlock and lock it behind us, just in case.”

File: Cynthia2.jpg (63 KB, 620x428)

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“Let’s go,” you begin, picking up the pace and unslinging your rifle. “We’ll put this stuff in the Bad Habit’s airlock and lock it behind us, just in case.”

“Roger that,” Tom replies as he struggles to match your stride.

“Take off your communicator,” you say. Then you both remove your helmets and take your earpieces off, powering them down. “So what do you think is happening, is someone listening in?”

Tom looks troubled as he clips his helmet to his belt. “I’m not sure. These things have a pretty short range, so whoever might be eavesdropping would have to be aboard this ship with us.”

The thought of that makes a cold shiver run up your spine. You quickly glance over your shoulder to assure yourself that you’re not being watched, only to become even more uneasy from the sight of the dimly-lit, abandoned corridor behind you.

You’ve never been a superstitious man, but there are certainly some frightening spacers’ tales about pulling salvage from wrecked ships that were lost with all hands… You shake your head to clear your mind of the thoughts.

You both arrive at the rescue trunk, quickly making your way through the airlock tunnel to the Bad Habit’s airlock.

As the door opens, you see Cynthia standing on the other side, wearing her gray coveralls.

“Allen,” she greets you a little bit apprehensively. “Virgo told me to meet you two at the airlock and take some salvage off your hands. What’s going on?”

“We found a derelict freighter,” Tom interjects, tossing the bag of gold to the floor with a metallic thud. You drop your own bag. She picks up the bag of tools first, hefting it with a nod.

“Tools,” she grunts approvingly. “Can always use more of those.” Then she picks up the other bag, instantly struggling with the weight of the precious contents. She looks at you with a furrowed brow. “Allen, what’s in this bag?”

>”I’ll tell you later, just hide it in the Engineering room”
>”Tools. Just tools.”
>”A bag of gold bars with the serial numbers filed off.”
>Write-in.

>>895550
>>”I’ll tell you later, just hide it in the Engineering room”

>>895550
>>”I’ll tell you later, just hide it in the Engineering room”

>>895550
>”A bag of gold bars with the serial numbers filed off.”
>"later, just hide it in the Engineering room”

File: 1457326315259.jpg (911 KB, 1024x768)

911 KB JPG

I'm going to call the session here for the night. As always, comments, concerns, questions, and all other manner of things are welcome. We'll resume tomorrow afternoon.

Instead of Mood Music, here's Solfrid's favorite song:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bJ9r8LMU9bQ

>>895829
thanks

>>895550
>>”I’ll tell you later, just hide it in the Engineering room”

>>895829
It feels like this quest is just a series of predetermined events, and our only options are "which of the crew do you want to talk to"

Also I still do not enjoy QM tendencies to tell us stuff we don't need to know:
Succeed on roll: "This is what would have happened if you failed" and vice versa

I still think your writing is good, which is why i read through the threads when they are done. But they are more a story QM wants to tell us and less an interactive thing.

>>896393
A series of predetermined events? Look, I didn't make you guys shift your course to Triton. I didn't make you go aboard the abandoned starship. I have given multiple options to back out of encounters before, it isn't my fault if players decide to press forward. Yes, I threw an encounter into the otherwise boring space voyage between Ganymede and Triton, mainly because I think time skips are lazy, and the voyage would otherwise be a boring segment of just talking to your crew and standing watch for two days.

I mean, I do have plot stuff planned, but even then, most of it is either avoidable, or in the background unless actively confronted. This isn't a "wat do?" quest with write-in-only progression, there is a story being told. If you don't like that, this quest isn't for you. But even with the story that is going on, I encourage write-ins. I want the players to do things I'm not anticipating. And I enjoy having the story take turns that I don't expect.

But I don't even know why I'm telling any of this to someone who doesn't even try or want to participate.

Anyway, the session will be starting in about an hour.

>>897466
Looking forward to the session!
Space adventure! Loot! Riches! Power!

>>897466
I didn't understand that either. I mean,I understood the point of the waifu thing,it was valid. But so far the story hasn't been railroaded. We just took every plot hook possible(except the box).

>>897466
qq

“I’ll tell you later,” you begin. “Just hide it somewhere in the Engineering room.”

Cynthia frowns at you, then looks away and mutters something to herself. “Alright,” she finally nods. “Just be careful.”

“I will,” you reply. She then turns away and walks back into the ship with the two bags. Stepping back, you watch as the airlock closes. There is a heavy thud as the locks engage, sealing the Bad Habit off from the Wales. You clip the shotgun to your belt by its sling loop and sling the rifle over your shoulder.

“You ready?” Tom steps toward the door leading back to the outboard hallways.

“Yeah,” you reply. The both of you put your earpieces back in and don your helmets, stepping into the corridor. The sound above the static is still there as you open a channel to Virgo. “Virgo, do you read me?”

“Loud and clear,” he affirms.

“We’re heading toward the storage rooms now,” you say. As you speak, the two of you begin walking forward.

“Alright, it shouldn’t be too far.” Virgo pauses, likely checking the scan to give you directions. “Like I said earlier, you’re going to have to go through the crew quarters to get there. It’s a pretty large sector.” He trails off. “And it’s probably not going to be pretty.”

“We’ve already found some bodies,” you tell him bluntly. “It’s nothing we haven’t already seen.”

“Fair enough,” Virgo sighs. “I’ll be listening in until you get out of range, so speak up if you need to.”

“Will do,” you reply. The next five minutes are silent as the two of you make your way to the crew area, denoted by signs on the walls.

You arrive at the door for the crew quarters, seeing a small map bolted to the wall next to the door. Tom walks up to it and examines it with his flashlight. “Looks like there’s a hallway separating the enlisted and officer quarters,” he begins. “It leads straight to the armory and storage rooms. Enlisted quarters are on the starboard side…” He trails off, looking more closely at the map. “Looks like the officer staterooms, captain’s cabin, and medbay are on the port side…” He turns to you, shrugging. “Could be some useful stuff in the medbay, not to mention the various staterooms.”

>”Let’s just get what we came for.” (head straight to the storage areas)
>”Let’s check out the officer staterooms.”
>”Let’s check out the captain’s cabin.”
>”Let’s see what’s in the medbay.”
>”The enlisted quarters might have something worth investigating.”

>>897775
>>”Let’s check out the captain’s cabin.”

>>897775
>”Let’s check out the captain’s cabin.”

>>897775
>>”Let’s check out the captain’s cabin.”
Might as well see if the Cap's got answers about the gold

>>897775
>”Let’s check out the captain’s cabin.”

>>897775
>>”Let’s check out the captain’s cabin.”
Surely a captain has some goodies in that cabin, maybe a list of useful contacts too.

“Let’s check the captain’s cabin,” you reply. Tom nods at you and opens the door carefully. The hallway is long and dark, with the emergency lights having gone out at some point.

You carefully move forward, scanning the hall in front of you for any obstructions. The two of you stay close as you move up the hallway. As you arrive at the door of the captain’s cabin, you grip the handle and steady yourself. Honestly you have no idea what to expect on the other side. You look once over your shoulder at Tom, who nods at you. Then you open the door.

The room looks as if it hasn’t been disturbed since the previous occupant woke up and made his bed. Though everything is covered in a thin film of dust, nothing looks out of place. You both step into the room, and you flick the lightswitch on the wall. The small light in the center of the ceiling flickers on, yellowed from age and disuse.

The room is decently-sized, with a desk in one corner and a bed in the other, with two couches facing each other in the center. It is definitely a captain’s cabin for a large warship. You walk over to the desk, seeing a small stack of papers.

They’re letters, addressed to various people. Nothing particularly important, you figure. Tom meanwhile, goes over to a small trunk at the foot of the captain’s bed, opening it loudly. You hear his rifle through it as you open one of the drawers, finding a small, leatherbound journal beneath some old photographs and papers.

Opening it, you find that the first few entries are standard fare for a naval captain. Descriptions of the days immediately before and after setting sail from Venus. As you leaf through it further, you note that he apparently had an affair with his navigation officer. There is a small photograph of her sucked in between two pages. However, as you flip through it some more, you find a rather strange entry:

September 20,

Chief Engineer Hockessin tells me that the Treasury Department may have noticed some missing “activated carbon”. He assures me that they do not know we have it, but I remain worried. Should they discover it aboard our vessel before we make it to our destination, it will mean the end of us. I knew I shouldn’t have agreed to his plan, and now I fear my crew will suffer for it. Should we make it to Triton with our cargo, I only hope that Annie will forgive me for lying to her. And should anyone find this journal, I only hope that they understand the reasons for my betrayal. I do not trust Hockessin, and I fear that he has violent designs for me. Should this be my last journal entry, I apologize for nothing beyond loving my crew more than my homeland.




You turn to Tom, handing him the book with the current entry still open. “Check this out,” you say.

He reads the entry, running his finger gently along the page. “Well,” he begins. “This doesn’t clear up much. It only makes things murkier…” He looks up at you. “So the Chef Engineer and the Captain conspired to steal the gold and abscond to the Empire… But something happened along the way.”

“You think the Engineer killed him?”

Tom shakes his head. “I think this guy was getting paranoid. You wouldn’t be able to make that kind of thing look like an accident, and they would’ve had to call it in if the captain was murdered, regardless of radio silence.” Tom crosses his arms. “Either way, I’m not finding much in here,” he points to the trunk at the foot of the captain’s bed. “You want to get out of here?”

>”Let me take another look around.” (roll a 1d100)
>”Let’s check out the enlisted quarters.”
>”Let’s check the medbay for stuff.”
>”Let’s check the officer staterooms.”
>”Let’s get over to the storage areas and get this done with.”

Rolled 71 (1d100)

>>898172
>>”Let me take another look around.” (roll a 1d100)

>>898172
>>”Let’s check the medbay for stuff.”
There's probably a market for military-grade medicines.

Rolled 4 (1d100)

>>898172
> Let's look more
Oh shit, it's cursed gold! Lucky we have a wizard in the party.

Rolled 58 (1d100)

>>898172
>”Let me take another look around.” (roll a 1d100)

“Give me a minute to look around some more,” you say. Tom shrugs and leans against the wall as you peer around the room for possible loot.

Almost immediately, you notice a small box under the captain’s bed. It has a handle on it, so you drag it out into the center of the room.

Opening it, you find what appears to be the captain’s personal effects. A peaked cap and set of dress whites, along with a ribbon rack. This guy must’ve had quite a career judging by his set of ribbons. You set those aside, not wanting to take another man’s uniform or awards. Underneath it is his service pistol, almost identical to yours, as well as three magazines. You take the magazines, leaving the pistol. Then, as you go to put it back, you notice a false bottom in the box.

You carefully lift the hidden lid and discover several rather interesting things: The first item to catch your eye is a clearance card for the ship’s off-limits areas. You quickly pocket it. Beside it is a photograph of the ship’s entire crew in their dress uniforms. And in the corner you find a small box simply labelled ‘Cigars’. Opening the box, you find twelve incendiary rounds for the 4-gauge shotgun.

“Interesting,” Tom grunts upon seeing the box’s contents. “Those shells will come in handy.”

“That they will,” you agree. Opening the action of the shotgun, you load two of the shells into the empty spots in the cylinder. Snapping the weapon shut and pocketing the ammo, you show the keycard to Tom. “This will come even more in handy,” you say.

“Keycard, nice.” He nods. You stand back up, carefully placing the rest of the box’s contents back where they belong and scooting the box back under the bed.

“We should be able to unlock anything on this ship,” you say with a small grin. However, a part of you wonders why the captain had all of this stuff hidden.

“Where should we go next, sir?” Tom crosses his arms impatiently. The creepiness of the wreck likely beginning to get to him.

>”The storage areas.”
>”Let’s stop at the medbay first, there may be some stuff worth picking up.”
>”The officer staterooms may have some stuff worth getting.”
>”We should check out the enlisted quarters.”

>>898481
>>”Let’s stop at the medbay first, there may be some stuff worth picking up.”

>>898481
> medbay
Someone with exposition is there in stasis

>>898481
>>”Let’s stop at the medbay first, there may be some stuff worth picking up.”

>>898481
>”Let’s stop at the medbay first, there may be some stuff worth picking up.”

“Let’s check out the medbay,” you reply. You and Tom then exit the captain’s cabin and move up the hallway slowly, reading the labels next to the doors you pass. You come to the medbay door and grip the handle. However, before you open the door, you think you hear something…

Listening more closely, you definitely hear something. A slight tapping somewhere inside the room. It’s just loud enough to hear through your helmet. Looking over at Tom, you see that he already has his assault rifle drawn and at the ready. He nods slowly at you, meaning that he’s got you covered. Opening the door, you both find yourselves in a scene straight out of a nightmare.

The tapping is actually the sound of water dripping from an old faucet, hitting a metal surgical tray. The operating table is in the center of the room, with a skeleton splayed across it. There are surgical tools everywhere. The lights are just barely working, occasionally flickering.

You and Tom move uneasily through the room, your boots crunching across dried blood. There aren’t many clean floor tiles left in the room. Whoever was being operated on, they probably bled out.

As you look around, you see the cabinet where the first aid supplies are located. Grabbing a medic’s bag from the shelf, you raid the cabinet of all supplies and unexpired medicine. As you do this, Tom walks around, taking other supplies. However, as you go to zip the bag up, you hear Tom sigh. “Jesus…”

Looking over, you see that he is looking at what appears to be a doctor’s notebook. You walk over to see what’s up, deliberately averting your eyes from the operating table. Tom sets the notebook down and turns toward you as you arrive.

“Captain…” He trails off, pointing at the book. “You don’t want to read those notes…”

>Read the notes.
>Take his word on it.

>>898743
>>Read the notes.

>>898743
>>Read the notes.

>>898743
>>Read the notes.
im just waiting for dead space to happen soon

>>898743
> Take his word for it
But ask him if it is anything plot relevant.

So here's my theory. It looks kinda like there was a loyalist mutiny that happened after the engineer and captain decided to abandon the fight and run to the enemy. While that may be true what actually happened is that there was an as yet unknown xenomorph in stasis in that long box in cargo and someone decided to crack it open now that it would never make it to its destination anyway. The destruction and death on the ship was mostly caused through desperate efforts to kill the monster.

They failed.

Now we are trapped in here with it. This guy being operated on was host to a parasitic baby xeno.

>>898828
not saying it was aliens but aliens

Hey all, I've got to head out on the road for a little but, so the next post will be a while later than normal. And I won't be able to do formatting due to the next posts having to come from my laptop.

>>898743
>Read the notes
I can handle it

You decide to pick the notes up anyway, holding it close to your face. The pages are stained and yellowed.

----

March 28,

The crew are starving. Our provisions ran out around December 20, and we've been trying to ration what little we have left, but it finally ran out. People have been starving to death. Combined with the casualties incurred during the attack, we have lost three quarters of our crew. Yesterday we had a vote to decide if we would take drastic measures to keep ourselves alive. The decision has already been made, and as the only surviving surgeon, I am the one who must go through with it.

We are going to butcher the preserved bodies and ration the meat out in order to stay alive. I find myself disgusted even reading what I have written, but it is necessary in order to ensure the survival of others.

We will begin our gruesome duty shortly. Hopefully history will absolve us of this horrific deed.

----

You grimace, your stomach turning as you sit the notes down. Tom speaks up as you sigh.

"Told you, sir." He shakes his head. "They... They butchered each other..." He puts a hand on the front of his helmet, walking away. "They fucking ate each other..." He walks over to the door, bracing himself against the wall. You can hear him breathing heavily through his helmet.

>Write-in.

>>899463
Starvation is a powerful fucking horrifying thing. I'm glad we have enough bullets for everyone if need be Anything else? It's monstrous but doesn't explain the comm static or anything else.

>>899463
>"Let's get the hell out of here." Exit the medbay and go to the storage areas.

>>899463
>Write-in.
Well, that is appropriately grisley for a ghost ship. Lets finish looting their ship and watch out for cannibal space ghosts.

>We will begin our gruesome duty shortly
>around December 20
Guys, good news. Christmas dinner is back on!

>>899603
Nah, that was when the food ran out. The log entry is from March. They had a shitty Christmas.

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>>899603
>Guys, good news. Christmas dinner is back on!
Their original food supplies ran out December 20, and they switched to rations, which ran out March 28, and then resorted to cannibalism.

Still made me kek

"Tom," you walk over to your first officer, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Let's get out of here." You both leave the medbay with your medical loot, stopping in the hallway. Tom leans up against the wall.

"Sir," he stammers. "We've got to get off this ship... Everything about it is wrong... They ate each other!" He takes his helmet off, breathing raggedly.

"Starvation is a powerful thing, Tom." You try to rationalize it to him. "It can make people do just about anything."

Tom grimaces, looking as though he's about to vomit. "Yeah..." He sighs. "Just... Just give me a minute, sir."

"Right," you nod. You unsling your rifle and keep it at the ready, looking down both ends of the hallway. "Still. Even with that, it doesn't explain the bursts of static on our earpieces, or the other weird stuff going on here." You glance back at him. He seems more calm now as he puts his helmet back on. "Let's keep on our toes."

"Understood," he replies, the professional tone returning. "I'm feeling better now, sir."

"Okay." You nod at him.

"Well," Tom begins. "Should we head to those storage rooms?"

>"Yeah."
>"Actually, let's investigate somewhere else first." (specify)

>>899757
>>"Actually, let's investigate somewhere else first." (the quarters both officer and enlisted.)

>I have a feeling anything too spooky will be in the storage rooms, so check everywhere else first.

>>899625
>"Yeah."

>>899757
>>"Actually, let's investigate somewhere else first." (specify)
Quick check over the officers' and enlisted rooms, then to storage

>>899757
>>"Yeah."

>>899757
>"Yeah."

>>899854
>>900114
>>900121
Why? Why are you heading towards the boss room without doing max prep work?

>>899891
Seconding.

>>900114
>>900121
My apologies. I was already most of the way done with the write-up by the time your votes came in. The post is almost complete and it would take me another 30 minutes to re-write it at this point.

>>900179
its ok

"Let's check the crew quarters first," you say. "We'll start with the officer staterooms and move on to the enlisted quarters." You grimace at the thought of what is almost certainly waiting for you in the quarters, but you don't want to miss anything useful.

The two of you start with the first officer's stateroom. Entering, you see that it is much like the captain's quarters. However, there is an occupant in the bed. The covers are over his head, but you're certain that it's the body of the acting CO. There is a massive, red splotch and a relatively large hole near where the top of his head is. One dessicated hand hangs out of the bed, wearing dress whites. And on the floor is a photograph that he was likely clutching up until the moment he ended it all.

It is a photo of the man standing next to a pretty woman. They are both holding a little girl who has the woman's hair and the Commander's eyes. They are all smiling. Apparently the Commander was a family man. You search the room for whatever might be useful, finding little beyond a small collection of cigars, too bad you quit smoking last year. Tom picks up the cigar box, examining it before putting it back down. "These were probably the only luxury he afforded himself," Tom says. "I'm not going to pilfer smokes from a dead man."

The other staterooms are all similar affairs. Not much in the way of useful things. You both make the decision to check the enlisted quarters after finishing your sweep of the of the officers' staterooms.

The crew quarters are what you'd expect from a naval vessel. Lots of bunks arranged in rows. Most of the bunks are empty, with duffles filled with personal effects laying in them instead of bodies, showing that the occupant was deceased.

However, there are about a dozen bodies present, either laying on the floor or in their bunks. Many of them appear to have self-inflicted wounds. Either gunshots or slit wrists. You check the duffle bags, finding nothing of note. Mostly photograpths, undelivered letters, toiletries, clothes and the like.

You do manage to find something interesting in the duffle bag of one of the ship's marines. It is mostly filled with ammunition and explosives, as well as a helmet for a soft suit. It appears that the person who this belonged to intended to go into a vacuum at some point. You take the duffle and return to the hallway. With that, you have nothing left to do but enter the storage rooms.

As the two of you arrive at the doors, you enter through the first one. However, you notice the red light next to the door in front of you, indicating that the area just aft of the storage rooms has become depressurized.

"That's not a good sign," Tom notes, stepping up to the door. He looks back at you. "You may want to close the door behind you so that we don't depressurize the crew areas."

You close the door, nodding at Tom. He opens the one on his side, causing all the sound to fade as the air is sucked out. The two of you enter the main storage room, where you see that a door leading to the outside has been blown out.

"Shit," Tom says over the comm as he sees the destroyed door. "Somebody breached this area."

"What do you mean?" You step toward the door leading to the main storage compartment.

"This is a textbook breach and grab," he points to the hole. "Someone stuck themselves to the outside of the ship, blew the door, and grabbed something from the storage room."

You step toward the door leading to the main storage area, putting a hand of the door control. There is a green light on the panel, indicating that the storage room still has pressure.

>Open it.
>Screw this, go back to the ship.

>>900283
>Open it.

>>900283
>>Open it.

>>900283
>>Open it.
>Either you orTom have that BFG ready

You unclip the shotgun from your belt, hefting it into your hand as you prepare to hit the button. You drive your left hand onto the door controls, struggling against the airflow as the air in the storage rooms flows into space. As the air stops rushing past you, you both step into the room.

Tom closes the door behind you and you hear the sound of air being pumped back into the room automatically. There are many boxes littering the room.

The first thing you notice is the wooden crates labeled 'ACTIVATED CARBON'. There are four of them, all opened and thrown across the room.

Tom walks up and absently kicks one of the boxes. "Well, this is what the people who breached this place were looking for." He sighs. "These were the boxes carrying the gold. It looks like they had a whole shitload of it on hand before they were disabled. Each box probably held fifty bars." He shrugs at you. "Looks like the engineer stowed some of it away in anticipation of an attack."

Other than the empty boxes, there are also several crates labeled as containing quartz, which they do. While you're sure a watchmaker would love to have them, they look far too heavy to haul back to the ship. There are also the four crates of small arms, mostly assault rifles. And there is a small crate labeled as carrying electronics, which is in fact carrying what it says on the box. It looks like sensor and navigation equipment. There is another crate carrying sensor equipment, and you open it to see what looks like a computer hooked up to a radar dish.

However, the most eye-catching piece of cargo is what you assume to be the long-box. It is about seven feet in length by four feet wide, and maybe two feet tall. It has a control panel of some kind on the side, as well as handles for carrying it on both ends.

"Is that a damn coffin?" Tom kneels down next to the box, examining it. He runs a gloved finger across the screen of the control panel, wiping some dust off. Then the screen blinks on. He leans in to read it. "Shit," he exclaims. "Sir, these are biometrics."

"Of what?" You kneel toward the box.

"Of a human, sir." Tom looks at you, then back to the control panel. "Body temperature is normal for a human... Heart rate... It's even showing brain activity..." He grumbles something to himself. "It looks like the brain activity of someone in REM sleep."

"And how do you know what the brainwaves of someone sleeping look like?" You cross your arms.

"Well," he begins defensively. "I went to med school before I changed my major to history, you know." He rests a hand on the lid of the box and sighs. "Sir, I think this is a self-contained stasis unit. Whoever's inside may know what really went down here."

>"We're not opening it."
>"We'll drag it back into the crew areas and open it."
>"I'll bring it aboard, but we're not opening it until I'm sure it's safe."

>>900421
Nope. Fuck this. Tell our pirate friend about this. We're chewing off way more than we can handle with the gold alone. Hide the gold deep in the bowels of the ship,find an embassy,talk to her. Meet her,talk about the gold,tell her we need a "diplomatic pouch" if we find more shiny things like that,and give her the location of this ship. I don't see the harm in taking the guns and the tech,though.

>>900421
>>"I'll bring it aboard, but we're not opening it until I'm sure it's safe."
River Tam?

>>900421
>"I'll bring it aboard, but we're not opening it until I'm sure it's safe."

>>900421
>>"I'll bring it aboard, but we're not opening it until I'm sure it's safe."

>>900421
>"I'll bring it aboard, but we're not opening it until I'm sure it's safe."

I'm gonna call the session here for the night. We'll be running tomorrow at around the same times.

Who do you think yanked the rest of the gold off of the Wales?

>>900556
The engineer who blew the drive and killed the captain? Might have been in league with pirates, or an Empire syndicate.

>>900421
>"I'll bring it aboard, but we're not opening it until I'm sure it's safe."
Cally Sammy the Spook. Sounds like these guys were still technically on the payroll when they went missing. Check the screen and see if it has an internment date on it. If this is someone they were transporting then the will want them back. If this is just the lone surviver of the cannibal ghost ship then whatever we do don't open it until we have a qualified phyciatric unit we can shove them in. Have you seen firefly?

>>900421
>"I'll bring it aboard, but we're not opening it until I'm sure it's safe."

>>900556
What is obvious is whoever did this had inside sources. They breached precisely where they needed, grabbed exactly what they needed and left. Moreover, the fact that the storage room still had air means the doors were breached from the inside after the gold was taken, so they might also have had inside help.

What I think haddened is: the captain's plan was discovered and a mutiny ensued. The mutineers, thinking their cause is losing, blew up the engines. But later they managed to win, kill the captain and take control of the ship.
Even later, someone in the crew tried to arrange rescue in exchange for gold with the Empire or (most likely) pirates who accidentally were close by. But the 'rescuers' decided to only take the gold and leave people to die. They were the ones who disabled the comm equipment.

>>900797
What I took away from Firefly and a ton of other sci-fi is that hybernation units always contain cute girls, so let's open it!

>>900438
Seconding this. We really should've cut and run a while back. I don't even want the gold.

“We’ll take it aboard the Bad Habit and open it when I’m sure it’s safe,” you reply. Tom nods at you and stands back up, walking over to the crates of assault rifles.

He pulls one out of the crate and examines it. “These are Kalter K50s.” He hefts the heavy-looking rifle in his hands. “They’re not standard-issue anymore.” He picks up another one and hands it to you. “Roller-delayed blowback, select-fire, over all, they’re great rifles. The Federal Army got rid of them because they were too expensive to manufacture.” He shoulders his rifle as you examine yours. “Well, that and the fact that they kick way more than your standard infantry rifle.”

“Interesting,” you reply as you sit the rifle back into its crate. “These crates look pretty heavy though.”

Tom shrugs. “We could disable the gravity and float the crates to the airlock. Or we could always detach the Bad Habit from the airlock and bring it up alongside the hole where the other airlock used to be, then float these things over from there.”

“Duly noted,” you say with a sigh. The electronics containers look pretty heavy too, though you’re sure Cynthia could probably put the components to good use. “Oh, one other thing.” Your mind goes back to the long box. “Would we be able to see when that stasis box was last opened, maybe who’s in it?”

Tom shakes his head. “Not here,” he begins. “We’d need to hook it up to a proper computer and get past whatever Naval encryptions might be on the software. And even then, I’m not sure how detailed it’ll be.”

You frown. “So we’ve got a mystery box.”

“Basically,” Tom agrees. “Though judging by the REM patterns, I’d say they’re younger than thirty.” He shakes his head. “Still… I’ve never heard of the Federation smuggling people around in stasis chambers before. You’d think something like that would get out to the public.” He shrugs, walking over to the boxes of quartz. “What the hell do you think they were transporting rocks for?”

“I’m not sure,” you reply. “I know they use quartz in watches, but I can’t imagine the Navy needing that much of it.”

“Right,” Tom sighs. “So anyway, what are we hauling aboard the Bad Habit and what are we leaving behind?”

Choose item(s) to take:
>sensor equipment
>gun crates (specify how many crates out of four)
>electronics
>quartz (specify how many crates out of four)

>>902727
>gun crates (2)
>electronics
>quartz (2)
>sensor equipment
Disable gravity and start throwing them all ahead of us down the corridors.

>>902727
>Sensor Equipment
>Gun crates 4
Where we are going weapons will be worth extra. Supply and demand baby. So grab them all.
>Electronics

Turn the gravity I would hate to lose loot by accident if we try the other way...we do have magnetic boots right?

>>902727
How many crates can we fit in the cargo hold?
If all of them, I don't see why we just don't take 'em all. The quartz would be hard to offload, but the guns notsomuch.

>>902919
You'll be storing the big crates in the empty room that used to be the CIC. There's no space in the cargo hold. It theoretically has space for everything in the Wales' storage room though.

>>902727
>sensor equipment
>electronics
>as many gun crates as we can fit/ break down and store.
The quartz probably is a no go. It can't really be broken up either and has a bad weight to value ratio. Plus if the navy knows roughly where the wreck is and manifests dhow we offloaded a bunch of quartz at the nearest port of call... I'm not saying 'people' are necessarily going to catch that but advanced search algorithms can do some scary stuff in the modern day, never mind the future. That and I don't want to have to be shift about goddamn quartz.

>>902966
*know *shifty
On second thought what if the quartz is related to the "package"? Actually even then I'd rather just buy a smaller amount a few ports over instead of hauling a block of it. Also we should probably wait until all passengers are off or we're a few ports over before opening sleeping beauty. Maybe suited up (if it works for vacuum it sure as hell seals against biologicals) and with stunner.

“We’ll take all the gun crates, electronics, and sensor equipment,” you reply. You then point to the long box. “And we’ll take extra care to hide Sleeping Beauty here until we’re able to safely open the box.” You shrug. “No reason to take the quartz, I think.”

“Right,” Tom nods. “So are we just gonna float this shit out the hole in the hull?”

“Actually,” you trail off. “Let’s disable the gravity inside the Wales and move the stuff through the corridors to the Bad Habit. That way we won’t lose any cargo.” You frown, kneeling down and closing the lids to all of the crates. You absently kick one of the empty boxes away, causing it to clatter against some metal pipes on the wall.

Tom slaps his hands together. “Alright then, I’ll go and turn the gravity off, there should be a control panel for that stuff on the bridge.” He begins walking toward the door. “You want to come with me, or keep watch over the loot?”

>”I think I’ll stay here.”
>”Nobody should go anywhere on this ship alone. I’m coming with you.”

>>903027
>”I think I’ll stay here.”

>>903027
>>”Nobody should go anywhere on this ship alone. I’m coming with you.”

>>903027
>>”Nobody should go anywhere on this ship alone. I’m coming with you.”

>>903027
>>”Nobody should go anywhere on this ship alone. I’m coming with

>>903096
And then the captain was eaten by demons.

THE END ...?

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“Let’s stick together,” you say as you move to catch up with him. “We shouldn’t go anywhere alone on this ship.”

“Right,” Tom begins. He presses the door control and you feel the air venting into the vacuum once again. The two of you step out into the depressurized section of corridor and close the door behind you, heading back into the crew quarters.

The walk through the quarters is quick, and for good reason, you both avoid even looking into the rooms whose doors were left open. Heading back into the outboard causeways, you stop by the escape trunk just once to make sure the airlock is still closed and locked.

When you arrive on the bridge, Tom quickly heads over to the engineering console and disables the gravity. You both engage your boots and head back downstairs toward the storage rooms.

It is incredibly eerie to see the small things that begin to float through a spaceship once the gravity is turned off. The first thing you notice is a can of shaving cream as it floats out into the hallway from one of the officer staterooms. There are other things too. The occasional wristwatch, drops of water, bits of wiring that frayed off at some point.

You both get back into the storage rooms, where the cargo now floats lazily a couple of inches off the ground. You use some old rope in a locker to tie all of the crates to one another in a kind of chain, then begin moving them all back through the ship.

You arrive at the airlock and open up a comm channel with Virgo. “Virgo, come in.” There is a long, uncomfortable silence. “Virgo, do you read me?”

“..oud and clear, Captain,” his voice crackles over the line. “Something going on?”

“We’ve got what we came here for, go ahead and unlock the airlock. We’re coming in.”

“Roger,” Virgo grunts. The airlock opens with a hiss and you throw all of the cargo inside, wincing as it comes in contact with the Bad Habit’s artificial gravity and hits the deck loudly.

“Well, sir,” Tom looks over at you, removing his helmet. “I’m ready to get the hell out of here. What about you?”

“You know it,” you begin. However, as you go to take your helmet off, there is a loud burst of static over the comm. The noise that you’ve grown accustomed to is now gone. Tom grimaces at you, as if about to tell you that he has a bad feeling about this.

And then the noise comes. A symphony of screeching metal coming from somewhere inside the wales. There is a series of loud bangs in the causeway, getting louder. Getting closer.

>Write-in.

>>903263
Get the shit back into the ship asap then scoot.

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>>903263
Get the fuck out of here NOW

>>903263
>NOPENOPENOPENOPENOPENOPENOPE!!!

>>903263
NOPE.png

Time to run back to our ship, weapons readied up just in case

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“We’re leaving!” You grab Tom by the shoulder and run into the Bad Habit’s airlock, which is now pretty cramped due to all the cargo. “Virgo, get us away from the Wales as fast as you can!”

“Right.” Virgo’s voice rumbles calmly in your ear as the airlock door closes and you feel the shudder of the ships disconnecting from one another.

There is a brief moment of uncertainty as the Bad Habit moves away from the wreck. Through the small windows of the airlock doors, you see that Virgo is turning away from the Wales and preparing the engines. The whole ship shakes as if hit by something, and then the engines fire, vaporizing a part of the wreck and sending you away from it at breakneck speeds. You sigh and lean up against the wall, sliding to the floor. What an exhausting couple of hours.

“That scared the shit out of me,” Tom says with a nervous laugh. “What even was that?”

“Hell if I know,” you sigh.

“Captain, are you and Mr. McMurdo alright?” Virgo checks up on you.

“Yeah,” you affirm. “Good work flying us out of there.”

“Thanks,” he replies. “How much cargo did you lift from the wreck?”

“A pretty good amount,” you reply. “Enough to almost completely fill the airlock.”

“I see,” he begins. “I would recommend storing it in the room that used to be the CIC, that way no passengers will stumble across it.”

“Duly noted,” you say tiredly. Looking over, you see Tom sitting atop the long box, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Well captain,” he begins. “Think we should start getting this shit in storage?” He lights a cigarette, taking a long drag before exhaling contentedly.

>”Let’s get it over with. Help me carry it to the empty room.”
>”It can wait, sleep is more important to me right now.”

>>903580
>”Let’s get it over with. Help me carry it to the empty room.”

>>903580
>>”Let’s get it over with. Help me carry it to the empty room.”

>>903580
>>”Let’s get it over with. Help me carry it to the empty room.”

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“Let’s get this over with,” you say as you stand up.

“Right.” Tom stands up as well and you both pick up the first, and likely heaviest, piece of cargo. The long box. It weighs easily three hundred pounds, though you suspect that most of the weight is probably the occupant. Struggling to get it down the hallways, you eventually nestle it into a corner of the room.

Going back, you pick up the crates of rifles next, moving them one at a time back to the room. You position the crates in such a way to conceal the long box, which isn’t too difficult.

Next, you bring the containers of sensor equipment and electronics to the room as well, though you figure you’ll be handing it off to Cynthia, it’d be best to store it with the rest of the stuff first. After you get all of that done, Tom heads back up to the bridge to relieve Virgo of the watch, and you get a cup of coffee from the wardroom.

However, just as you finish pouring the cup, you turn around to get some sugar and see Cynthia standing there with her arms crossed, glaring at you.

“Allen,” she begins dangerously. “I looked in the bags.”

“Oh…” You raise your eyebrows at her, waiting for her to continue.

“Gold bars marked with the seal of the Federal Treasury. With the serial numbers scratched off. Care to explain that?” She sighs, grumbling before taking a step toward you. “Look, it’s pretty obvious that you didn’t help out a derelict freighter, and I really don’t think I'll ever get the truth out of you… But what I do want to know is why you would put everyone in the kind of danger that gold could bring us. How could you honestly think that bringing something like that aboard is a good idea?”

>Write-in.

>>904000
>"Because the impressive amount of money it'll bring would allow us to afford to refit this ship almost entirely. And we're going to sell it off as quickly as possible to somebody I know, make it their problem instead of ours."

>>904000

"I agree, its dangerous. But it was sitting there, no good to anyone, surrounded by nothing but vacuum and ghosts. At least this way it will benefit someone - and if there's the slightest chance we'll be caught with it, i'll jettison it myself. Do you think you'd be able to render the seal on these unrecognizable, or remove it entirely? No sense in courting trouble."

>>904000
Actually, have any of our crew checked them for tracking devices yet?

>>904066
Not yet. You could always ask her to do that now.

>>904000
Because it was sitting there, and it's not doing anyone any good. If you really think it's too dangerous we can space it.

>>904000
>>904030
Addendum:
>"Hey, can you check the stuff we brought in for bugs or tracking devices? We'll at least know if I've just made an awful decision."

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You sigh apologetically before speaking. More than anything, you figure she’s angriest about being lied to. However, you feel the need to justify your actions. “Look, it’s a lot of money,” you begin. “And it was just sitting there in deep space. The only people keeping it company were already long dead when we arrived. With it, we can refit quite a bit of the ship’s systems.”

“Assuming the revenuers don’t catch us with it,” she practically hisses. “They have undercover guys who pose as gold buyers everywhere!”

“That brings me to something else,” you add. “I think I already have a buyer lined up for it. Someone who does this kind of stuff regularly.” Cynthia crosses her arms, seemingly unconvinced. “And if I think we’re about to get caught with it, I’ll throw it out the airlock myself.”

“Fine…” She finally relents, still sounding angry. “But I wish you would’ve told me first.”

You sigh. “I know…” Then, another thought crosses your mind. “Oh, and could you scan those bars to make sure they don’t have any trackers embedded in them?”

Cynthia frowns at you, saying something under her breath. “Okay,” she begins. You smile a little, only for her to point a finger at you angrily, sticking it right between your eyes. “Though I could’ve gotten that done thirty minutes ago if you had just told me the truth.” With that, she turns and heads toward the engine room, leaving you to your coffee.

After finishing your cup, you see Corrigan enter the room from upstairs.

“Captain,” she bows slightly. “It is good to see you have returned unharmed.” She raises an eyebrow at you. “May I ask what happened aboard the wreck? Tom seemed very… Shaken up about it. He did not wish to speak with me about it.”

>”The ship’s engines were knocked out. They ran out of food and ate each other.”
>”There was some kind of conspiracy going on aboard the Wales. I think some of the crew may have turned on each other.”
>”It was nightmarish. I don’t really want to talk about it either.”
>”It was just a derelict ship. If you’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all.”

>>904338
>”The ship’s engines were knocked out. They ran out of food and ate each other.”

>>904338
>>”There was some kind of conspiracy going on aboard the Wales. I think some of the crew may have turned on each other.”

>>904338
>>”There was some kind of conspiracy going on aboard the Wales. I think some of the crew may have turned on each other.”

>>904338
>”There was some kind of conspiracy going on aboard the Wales. I think some of the crew may have turned on each other.”

>>904338
> they ate their dead and there was something spooky chasing us but I don't know what because we have no curiosity

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“I think there was some kind of conspiracy going on,” you grimace. Deciding to spare her the more visceral details of the crew’s demise, you choose to keep it somewhat vague. “Their captain was killed, and I think the crew may have turned on each other.”

Corrigan frowns. “That is terrible,” she says with subdued horror. “I cannot imagine why a crew would turn on one another.”

You sigh sadly, thinking back to the ship’s final CO laying in his bed, clutching a picture of his family. “Desperate times make people do desperate things.” You shudder at the thought of the crew’s final days.

“That is sad to think about,” Corrigan says.

“Yes,” you agree. “It’s very sad.” The two of you don’t say anything for a little while.

“Captain,” she speaks up again. “Was all of that cargo from the ship as well?” She points back to the former CIC.

“Yeah,” you nod. “We picked up some rifles and electronics.” You neglect to tell her about the long box for now. It’ll be better to let the whole crew know when you get the passengers off the ship.

“Rifles, you say?” Her eyes seem to light up. “May I take a look at one?”

>”No, we’re going to sell them.”
>”Sure, I guess.” (get her a rifle)

>>904685
>>”Sure, I guess.” (get her a rifle)
Only one. The rest still gets sold.

>>904685
>>”Sure, I guess.” (get her a rifle)

>>904724
Well, keep about 5 for the armory, y'know? They don't make 'em anymore.

>>904685
>”Sure, I guess.” (get her a rifle)

>>904748
Keep 30. One for each crewmember (be prepared), one spare each in the armory (more preparedness is better), one in each crewmembers bathroom (aliens like to catch ya with your pants down), two at the bridge (special occasions) and each airlock ('mergencies), 4 in the cargo bay (firefights ALWAYS happen there...they're like magnets), and 3 under Allen's pillow (uberprepared).

Or not.

>>904805
All my toilet paper roll holders are handguns.

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I'm going to have to call the session here for tonight. I'll run tomorrow afternoon and hopefully we'll finish up the thread.

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

Who do you think is in the long box?

>>904920

If not a crew member, then somebody the captain's log and the corrupted section of the bridge logs will tell us about. My guess is a psychic (not to overly Firefly this) who was a Naval Intelligence agent being inserted into Imperial space to fuck with them/assassinate somebody as part of shipping in the gold for resistance groups.

Incidentally, if the gold was to be used to fund resistance members, wouldn't it be in smaller bars to aid ease of spending, and without a seal? Untraceable, basically.

>>904961

The reason why psychic? Who do you think did all that banging before we left?

They're....dreaming.

>>904920
The doctor/butcher

>>904920
I'm more interested in who was running in the causeway and most likely had jumped to our ship and is currently catching a ride.

Also we neglected to loot the rest of the spacesuits. Sadness.

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“Sure,” you shrug. “Give me a minute.” You stand up, walking back to the CIC and searching for a rifle crate that doesn’t have something already sitting on top of it.

Opening the crate, you see about twenty rifles sitting in their individual wooden frames. You gently grab one, hefting it into your arms.

You check the chamber to make sure it’s empty, then walk back out with it in-hand. Corrigan raises an eyebrow at the rifle as you hand it to her.

“Very interesting,” she begins as she gives it a good once-over. “It is an old design…” She looks down the sights, then tries out the charging handle, getting a feel for it. She then removes the magazine and takes a look at it. “How many do we have?”

“Assuming the crates are all full,” you frown. “About eighty.” Corrigan goes wide-eyed at the mention of the sheer number of rifles.

“That is a very large number,” she replies as she gently sits the rifle down. Then she points to your waist. “And what is that, some kind of mining tool?” You look down, seeing the massive shotgun still clipped to your belt. As you run a hand to it, you go red in the face, remembering that you still have the soft suit on.

“Ah,” you rub the back of your neck. “This thing’s a 4-gauge shotgun.” You unclip it from your belt and open the action, unloading the shells and pocketing them. “Tom says that they mostly use them as tools though, since you can load it with just about anything.”

“That is very interesting,” Corrigan nods. “I have never seen such a weapon before.” She leans in and looks closer at it.

>”You know, I really need to put the suit and shotgun away.”
>”I wasn’t aware you liked regular guns. I thought missiles were more your thing.”
>”You said that the rifle was based on an old design. What else do you know about it?”
>Write-in.

>>907065
>>>”You know, I really need to put the suit and shotgun away.”

>>907065
>”You said that the rifle was based on an old design. What else do you know about it?”

Since this is the first post of the night, I'll wait 20 more minutes before rolling for a tiebreaker.

>>907065
>”You know, I really need to put the suit and shotgun away.”

File: Tom McMurdo.jpg (16 KB, 400x299)

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“You frown, looking down at yourself. “You know… I really need to get the suit and shotgun put away.” You figure you’ll probably just keep the shotgun in your stateroom, but the suit should go in one of the lockers in the airlock. First, you stow the rifle back in its crate, then you meet back up with Corrigan, who decides to walk with you to the airlock.

You and Corrigan head to the forward airlock, running into Tom along the way. He also decided to put his suit away. The three of you talk about nothing in particular as you enter the airlock and remove your suits. Corrigan, apparently assuming that you didn’t wear clothes under the suits, elects to stay out in the hallway while you and Tom get changed.

“So Captain,” Tom speaks up as he hangs his suit in the locked. “We’re going to need to do something about that stasis box.” He gently places the helmet on a shelf above the suit. “I think the occupant’s time may be more limited than we think.” He scowls.

“What do you mean?”

Tom looks like he’s trying to choose the right words. “I did some reading about portable stasis chambers like that,” he begins. “They aren’t the deep freeze kind, they’re for keeping people secure for short periods of time. Mainly they were used to transport people with medical conditions, or prisoners too dangerous to be kept conscious.” He sighs. “But they were outlawed for transporting humans about fifteen years ago because people were dying from being put under too long. The reports vary wildly, but apparently the longest someone has been under in a stasis box like that is three years.”

“Well what happens after that point?” You frown.

“The patient slips into cardiac arrest,” Tom grimaces. He lights a cigarette before continuing. “However, all the photos of the old ones look completely different from the one we yanked off of the Wales. The old ones had bigger power units and control systems. We could either be looking at a more advanced one, or one designed for short-term stasis. Either way, it looks like the Federation decided to keep using portable stasis chambers for something.” He takes a drag of the cigarette, coughing a little bit. “At the very least, we should keep a close eye on it until we decide to open it.”

“Right,” you agree.

Tom’s expression doesn’t change. “And we should open it as soon as possible, sir. That way we won’t have to deal with them having a heart attack when we wake them up.”

>”We’ll open it on the way to New Albany.”
>”Whoever is in there, they aren’t worth jeopardizing the safety of the crew. We’ll open it when I decide it’s safe.”
>”When can we hook it up to a computer and see more detailed information about the occupant?”
>”Then let’s open the damn thing now and get it over with.”

>>907334
How long has it been since the end of the war?
>”Whoever is in there, they aren’t worth jeopardizing the safety of the crew. We’ll open it when I decide it’s safe.”
>”When can we hook it up to a computer and see more detailed information about the occupant?”
This is a good point. What if they were locked up in there because they had some terrifying disease and were being shipped off to a secure research facility. I don't think the Bad Habit has a quarantine area.

>>907357
>How long has it been since the end of the war?
Two years, eight months.

>>907334
>”We’ll open it on the way to New Albany.”

>>907334
>>”When can we hook it up to a computer and see more detailed information about the occupant?”

>>907334
>>”When can we hook it up to a computer and see more detailed information about the occupant?”

File: Tom.jpg (29 KB, 640x480)

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“How soon can we get it hooked up to a computer? I want to know more information about the occupant before we open the box.” You lean against the wall, crossing your arms.

Tom raises an eyebrow at you. “We could do it now,” he replies. “There’s a medical computer in the medbay, we’d just have to lug the box down there and get Solfrid to use the computer itself.”

“I see,” you nod. “And how long would it take to get the information on the computer?”

“Maybe fifteen minutes,” he guesses. “Assuming it isn’t encrypted. If it is, you’d have to ask Solfrid.” He grumbles to himself. “Though I’m not sure what she’ll think about us having that box aboard. Nobody’s going to believe we pulled it from a freighter. The Federal Navy insignia is plastered right on the control panel.”

“Okay. And what about safety? What will we do if the occupant is infected with some kind of disease or something?”

Tom grins a little bit. “Well, we could do one of two things. We could either open it in the cargo hold, which would allow us to space it if the occupant is dangerous.” He points aft and down, toward the medbay. “And the medbay is designed to be air-tight. It can be used as a quarantine if we detect some kind of viral agent. Either way, we’d have to wear these babies when we open it,” he slaps his soft suit.

“So we’ve got a plan,” you say with tentative satisfaction. “And what about a recommended time frame? I know you said that you want to open it sooner rather than later.”

“Ideally sometime between Triton and New Albany, while we’re in FTL.” Tom yawns, finishing his cigarette. “Though we could conceivably open it at any time. I just wouldn’t want to let it go longer than a couple of months. And I wouldn’t want to open it while there are passengers aboard. The less they know, the better.”

>”Let’s haul it to the medbay and get Solfrid, we can at least hook it up and see what’s inside.”
>”We’ll hook it up after we drop our passengers off on Triton.”
>”I still don’t think we should open it any time soon.”
>Write-in.

>>907491
>”Let’s haul it to the medbay and get Solfrid, we can at least hook it up and see what’s inside.”

>>907491
>>”Let’s haul it to the medbay and get Solfrid, we can at least hook it up and see what’s inside.”

>>907491
>>”Let’s haul it to the medbay and get Solfrid, we can at least hook it up and see what’s inside.”

>>907491
>”Let’s haul it to the medbay and get Solfrid, we can at least hook it up and see what’s inside.”
Time for new girl to pull her weight.
Oh, and make sure Corrigan doesn't find out about this. Did you see how her eyes lit up at the thought of the recognition she would get if she got all those rifles back to her boss?

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“Alright,” you decide. “Let’s haul it to the medbay and get Solfrid working on the computer.” You both stand up, ready to go to work.

“Understood.” Tom salutes you casually. “I’ll head over to the empty room, meet me there after you get Solfrid.”

The two of you exit the airlock, where you find Corrigan standing there looking a little bit bored. “Captain,” she greets you.

“Hey Corrigan,” you reply. “Me and Tom are going to move some things. I’ll talk to you later.” She nods at you understandingly and walks back to her stateroom.

You walk over to the door of Solfrid’s stateroom, knocking loudly enough for her to know it’s urgent. She opens the door and you see her wearing an old band t-shirt and ripped jeans. “Oh, hi Captain.” She salutes you incorrectly.

“You know how to work medical computers, right?”

She looks thoughtfully at you. “I’m familiar with the programming languages used. I’m sure it wouldn’t take me long to get familiar with the computer itself.” She grins.

“Okay, good. I need you to head down to the medbay and boot up the computers.” As soon as you say that, her expression changes completely.

“Why? Is someone hurt?” She worriedly gasps, running back into her stateroom and grabbing what looks like a cheap, dollar-store first aid kit. “I-I can perform emergency surgery if you need me to!”

You put a hand up to stop her. “Nobody’s hurt,” you reply. “At least, I don’t think they’re hurt. I’ll tell you more when we meet you in the medbay.”

“Right!” She nods at you, then steps out into the hallway and jogs down the hall to the stairwell. You make your way back to the empty room, where Tom already has the crates moved aside from the long box.

“This was a pain in the ass,” he jokes, pointing to the various crates he had to move. “Anyway, let’s get this downstairs.”

The two of you struggle with the heavy box, moving it as carefully as possible. You manage to get it past the passenger cabins without anyone opening their doors to see what all the grunting and cursing is about.

As you haul the long box into the medbay, Solfrid’s eyes go wide. “What is that?” She points to the long box.

“It’s the thing we need you to hook up to the computer,” Tom says with an agonized smile as the two of you gently deposit the box onto the floor next to the computer. “All we know for sure is that there’s something living inside.”

“Okay…” Solfrid trails off, producing a cord. You look to see that the other end is plugged into the computer. She finds a corresponding hole on the control panel and hooks the cord up. There is a noise from the computer, and Solfrid goes over to the screen and looks at the window that just popped up. “Woah… This is amazing. It’s displaying biometrics, details about the patient, how many times the box has been opened, everything!”

>”What do you mean by how many times it’s been opened?”
>”So is the occupant stable? Is there anything wrong with them?”
>”What are we looking at here? Give me a description of the occupant.”
>"Is it safe to open it?"
>Write-in.

>>907764
>>”What do you mean by how many times it’s been opened?”
>”So is the occupant stable? Is there anything wrong with them?”
>”What are we looking at here? Give me a description of the occupant.”

>>907764
>”What do you mean by how many times it’s been opened?”
I want to know if this is the original occupant or someone from the Wale hiding out waiting for rescue.
>”What are we looking at here? Give me a description of the occupant.”

>>907764
>”What do you mean by how many times it’s been opened?”
>”So is the occupant stable? Is there anything wrong with them?”

“What do you mean by how many times it’s been opened?” You cross your arms as Solfrid leans in and reads from the screen.

“Well it says here that it was opened first on May 12, 2356…” She trails off, reading the next date. “And it looks like it was opened a second time around November 8 of the same year…” She frowns.

“November 8,” Tom says. “That was probably right after the attack.”

You nod. “Yeah,” you add. “Three days before the ship was listed as missing. It lines up with the engines being disabled.”

“So they opened it right after their engines were knocked out…” Tom frowns, thinking. “Makes me wonder if it’s even the original occupant in there.”

“Well there’s only one way I can think of finding that out,” you reply. “And I don’t think we should open it until we know for sure that the person in there is in stable condition.” You look back to Solfrid. “So what’s the occupant’s status? Are they stable?”

“I…” She trails off, looking lost at all the information on the screen. “I’m not a doctor, so I’m not really sure.”

“Let me have a look at it,” Tom gestures for Solfrid to step aside. His eyes glide up and down the screen. “We’re looking at a human female…” He begins. “Age is anywhere from 21 to 27, height is a little under five and a half feet, weight is 129 pounds…” He raises an eyebrow. “Other than a hairline fracture on the left ankle that appears to have never healed quite right, she’s healthy. No illnesses to speak of.”

“Anything else you can tell me about her?” You lean toward Tom as he types something in to the computer. Suddenly, a troubled expression appears on his face.

“Yeah. This woman is definitely not the original occupant of this long box,” Tom grimaces. “I just accessed the history of other biometric signatures that this box has held… The previous occupant was male… Age unknown… Weight around 185 pounds, height 6 feet 2 inches…” He pulls another window up. “There’s even a record of his brain activity. It’s totally different than what I would expect…”

“How so?” Tom points to the screen instead of replying, and you see why. He has the two occupant’s brain scans pulled up side-by-side. The woman’s is a relatively normal looking series of waves. The man’s however, is all over the place. There are times where it goes off the charts.

“This is recorded from the box’s history. It almost looks like the brain of someone trying to solve complex math equations… Only it’s like they’re on amphetamines at the same time…”

>”What the hell could cause someone in stasis to have activity like that?”
>”So the box should be safe to open?”
>”Wait. If the original occupant isn’t in the box anymore, does that mean he was running free on the Wales at some point?”
>Write-in.

>>908000
>”So the box should be safe to open?”

>>908000
>>”What the hell could cause someone in stasis to have activity like that?”
>”Wait. If the original occupant isn’t in the box anymore, does that mean he was running free on the Wales at some point?”

>>908000
>>”What the hell could cause someone in stasis to have activity like that?”
>”Wait. If the original occupant isn’t in the box anymore, does that mean he was running free on the Wales at some point?”

>>908000
>”So the box should be safe to open?”
So that was the guy changing us when we left.

“What could cause brain activity like this while in stasis?”

Tom looks to be at a loss for words. “I honestly don’t know. All of the other biometric data suggests that his body was asleep. It’s possible that the occupant had a hyperactive brain…” He shrugs. “But like I said, I’ve never seen something like that.”

“Fair enough…” You grumble to yourself, wondering if you may have bitten off more than you could chew. Then, just as you are about to continue talking about the biometrics, something hits you. “Tom, if the original occupant was let out, does that mean he was running around free on the Wales?”

Tom rubs his eyes. “It’s more than likely,” he groans. “Though it’s also possible that they planned for one crewmember to survive and tell the story of what happened there, so they dragged the original occupant out of the box and either locked him up or killed him.” He shrugs. “It would explain how our current guest ended up in the box.”

“What are you two even talking about?” Solfrid looks downright terrified at your conversation topic. Tom sighs guiltily.

“Well, Solfrid…” He begins speaking in a calm tone. “We found a derelict starship, and we went aboard to look for survivors…” He looks away, and you’re sure he’s thinking back to the horrific revelations that you both uncovered. “There weren’t any survivors. They all died close to a year ago. But we did find this box, as well as a lot of other cargo…”

“So this person was on the wrecked starship?” She looks at the box, placing a hand on the lid gently. “How terrible…”

“Yes,” Tom says with a grunt. “It was terrible. Anyway,” he looks at you. “At least we know that we won’t all die if we open the box.” He shrugs. “I mean, we have enough rifles to arm a militia now, even if our new guest has murderous intent, she won’t get far.”

>”Are you suggesting we open it now?”
>”So can we store the box in here until we decide to open it?”
>”Alright. I guess that’s everything we need to know. Let’s get this back to the empty room.”
>Write-in.

>>908104
>>”Alright. I guess that’s everything we need to know. Let’s get this back to the empty room.”
Get the passengers off at Triton, open the box afterwards

>>908104
>>”Alright. I guess that’s everything we need to know. Let’s get this back to the empty room.”

>>908104
>”Are you suggesting we open it now?”
DO EET! It is either now or wait till we are in port so a new person doesn't look so suspicious. The more time we leave her in the box the more time Friendo has to discover it.

“Well I guess that’s everything,” you say, putting your hands on your hips. “Let’s get this thing back to the empty room.”

Tom groans, unplugging it from the computer gently. “Alright,” he relents. “I’ll take the front, you take the back.” He points to one end of it. Honestly, you’re not sure what logic he’s using to determine which end is which, it’s a symmetrical box; both ends have a control panel.

You both struggle with the monstrous steel box, hefting it back upstairs and into the empty room. Thankfully, it seems as though Cynthia already served dinner while you were out, so nobody is hanging around to see you and Tom pulling a two-person Three Stooges act as you struggle to fit the box back into the empty room and get it hidden.

“I’m going to be so happy when we open this tin can up and don’t have to carry it around anymore.” He sighs, chuckling a little. “Carrying it up and down the stairs twice is enough for one lifetime.”

“You said it,” you agree.

Tom stands up, stretching and yawning. “Well, I’m gonna hit the hay, sir.” You wave him off as he walks out into the wardroom, toward his stateroom.

Come to think of it, you’re pretty tired too. You haven’t slept since you left Ganymede, and while that isn’t a whole lot of time, it feels like a century after today’s events. You sit on top of the long box unceremoniously and rub your eyes, yawning loudly.

>Head up to your quarters. Your bunk is calling to you.
>A nap in the wardroom, on the bench, should suffice for now.
> SLEEP IS FOR THE WEAK. (specify next action. i.e. speaking with a passenger or crew member, or doing a specific action)

>>908193
>SLEEP IS FOR THE WEAK. (specify next action. i.e. speaking with a passenger or crew member, or doing a specific action)
Talk to Tripe.
Then go to sleep.

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You decide that with everything bad that you’ve seen today, you need something pleasant in your life right now. You leave the empty room, looking around for Tripe. You call his name a few times and whistle for him, and he eventually comes up the stairs from somewhere on the lower decks. Judging by the wrench he’s carrying in his mouth, you’d bet that he probably just came from the Engineering room.

You flop onto the bench and Tripe hops up beside you with some effort. He barks happily, dropping the wrench next to you as you go to pet him. “Good boy,” you say as you scratch him behind the ears. The two of you just kind of sit there for a while, not doing much of anything. Your eyes grow heavy and you decide to get up and head to your quarters.

Unfortunately, your body seems to have other plans. Your strength leaves you as the world goes sideways. You realize, of course, that you’ve fallen into a resting position on the bench, but you don’t really feel like getting up.

You close your eyes and find yourself drifting off almost instantly. Though you think you feel the sensation of someone throwing a blanket over you, you can’t be sure.



You dream though. And this one consists of a lot of things. You’re back in the Navy, but it’s some time ahead of the present, because all of your crew from the Bad Habit are there. You’re all aboard the Wales, only it hasn’t been blown up in your dream.

You and Cynthia are ordered by the captain, Warwick, to head over to the storage airlock with weapons. When you both arrive, you find several marines there, and they get mad at you for being late. The person in charge of them is Tom. He tells you both to get ready, and you all put on soft suits and depressurize the room, waiting for something. You get a call over your radio, Corrigan is telling you that the enemy is almost here, and that you all are the last line of defense.

There is an explosion as the airlock doors are yanked from their position out into space. Almost immediately, people in hard suits storm in, guns blazing. Tom and some of the marines go down first, then Cynthia is hit, her visor shatters from the impact of a rifle round. You feel numb as a bullet shatters your ribcage, deflating your right lung.

One of the enemy soldiers walks up to you and lifts his visor, showing you his face. It is the desiccated face of one of the Wales’ actual crew. His eyeless form laughs wildly. His ragged jaws part wide and he rips into your throat. There is nothing but darkness.



You awaken with a start, sweating. You are still lying on the bench, and a small quilt covers you. Groaning, you rub your head and stand up. “Dammit,” you sigh as you head up to your quarters to try and get back to sleep.

>>908000
I told you it'll be a cute girl.

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Well, that's it for Episode 7! Episode 8 will go up sometime later this week, and we'll get to see Triton and all the wonderful stuff it has to offer.

Mood music:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Lfp3X_BC3dg

What do you think happened to the long box's original occupant?

>>908328
The original occupant is currently riding on the outside on our hull, psionically eavesdropping on us.

>>908320
>>908337
So who is sending us bad dreams, the cute girl or the hyper savant?

>>908385
It's the cute girl trying to warn us.

Man I almost missed this quest.

>>908328
Probably still running around the ship.

Also one more thing.
You know, we had one or two passengers, that we had absolutely no relation with us until now.
Although Virgo and Cythnia might know a bit more truth, everyone on this ship KNOWS that we boarded a ship.
my paranoia senses are tingling, and it tells me that the 'static' might be related to 'passengers'.
Also another thing. We know that a particular person of power is not happy with us because of his empire hate. What if he was keeping on eye on us with 'observers'?
I have a feeling we fucked up big time and might have a problem coming directly at us in the near future, maybe after we unload the passengers.

>>908328
Don't forget to archive ep 7! Still have to read it, so I don't have a fitting summary text to do it...

To all of my players:
Episode 8 will be starting tomorrow afternoon. I would've gotten it typed up and posted tonight, but I've been sick the past two days.

File: 1477696579012.png (157 KB, 274x436)

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>>916660
Yay!

Well, after repaining my damn heater, Episode 8 is now up!
>>920923
>>920923
>>920923