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You grumble, occasionally looking over your shoulder at the armored personnel carrier that is following your truck. Sure is a lot of firepower for an ‘escort’ that the militias have provided. Turning forward again, you pick up the small wooden box from the floor and weigh it in your hands. Inside is the strange pistol you discovered in the boneyard earlier today.

“Kind of strange that their escort is behind us instead of in front,” Cynthia says as she glances in the rear-view mirror.

You grimace. “It’s so they can chase us down if we try to run,” you reply simply. “That’s not just an escort. The thing’s practically a damn tank.”

“Why would they be expecting us to run?” Cynthia looks over at you with a worried expression.

“Read this,” you say as you produce your communicator. “I’ll hold the wheel.” You grab a hold of the steering wheel as Cynthia reads the text message from Sgt. Hendricks.

“Oh my god,” Cynthia mutters. “Allen, what are we going to do?” Her eyes go wide as she shakily grabs the steering wheel again, trying to remain calm.

“I’ll get back to you on that once I think something up,” you reply. Glancing back again, you see that the commander of the APC is riding with his hatch open, leaning lazily of the top of the turret a he occasionally barks orders to the crew inside.

As far as getting away from these guys, you doubt you’ll be able to in this truck. It tops out at 75 miles per-hour, and it takes forever to get up to speed. Not to mention you don’t have much chance of fighting your way out. The only weapon you brought was your old .45 service pistol with two extra magazines. You are about to groan in frustration when you remember the little box if your hand. Opening it, you look down at the mystery pistol. There aren’t any instructions so speak of, and you honestly don’t have any idea what this weapon does, but it’s certainly an interesting option if things go south.

You enter the outskirts of the city and begin heading up the road leading to the docks. As you drive along slowly, you notice teams of men in riot armor walking along the sidewalks. As you drive past one of the teams, they kick open the door to what looks like an apartment building. You grimace, not looking back, as you hear automatic gunfire somewhere inside the building.

“Uh, Allen?” You hear Cynthia’s worried voice and look up. In front of you is another APC, parked sideways along the road to block your path. Cynthia slows the truck to a halt in front of the APC as some militia members get out of it. Looking back, you see your escort park behind you and its occupants dismount as well.

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“Shit,” you mutter beneath your breath. Grabbing the strange gun, you slap a battery into its slot, feeling the subtle pulsing in the handle. As you spare it one last glance, you notice something else that intrigues you. There is a little selector switch just above the handle with four settings. Each one is a plain, white number, except for the fourth setting, which is stamped in red, and has a skull and crossbones next to it. Shrugging, you tuck the mystery gun into your waistband.

A man in a slightly different uniform than the rest, likely an officer, steps out in front of your truck, gesturing for you to both exit the vehicle. You look over at Cynthia, who nods at you as you both exit in unison. “Good afternoon,” the officer greets you. “As much as I hate to inconvenience you, we just wanted to get some paperwork out of the way…” His eyes narrow at you. “I’m sure you’re aware of the current travel restrictions and all… Anyhow, we’ll just be taking you back to our headquarters for processing, if you don’t mind.”

>”That’s not happening.” (refuse bluntly)
>”What kind of processing? Are we being detained?”
>”Okay.” (accept)
>”Look, officer, I haven’t done anything wrong. If you’ll just let us get to our ship, we’ll be out of your hair entirely.” (try to talk your way out)
>Draw your service pistol. (initiates combat)
>Draw the mysterious gun. (initiates combat)
>Write-in.

>>1120976
>>”What kind of processing? Are we being detained?”
>”Look, officer, I haven’t done anything wrong. If you’ll just let us get to our ship, we’ll be out of your hair entirely.” (try to talk your way out)

>>1120976
>>”What kind of processing? Are we being detained?”

>>1120976
>”What kind of processing? Are we being detained?”

>>1120976
>I'm well aware of restrictions, and my law abiding little rust bucket of a ship would never dream of violating them or the atmospheric anti air envelope, but I'll do any paperwork, in full detail, from the comfort of my office. Maybe if someone was even nice enough to come pick it up instead of forcing my frail legs to walk I'd share some (name really preemo ancient whisky tom has) with them.

>>1120976
>Each one is a plain, white number, except for the fourth setting, which is stamped in red, and has a skull and crossbones next to it.
Very nice!

>>1121071
*my frail legs to walk to the customs office

>>1120976
>”What kind of processing? Are we being detained?”

Maybe if we can get him to call that major that we sold the guns to he can verify our allegiance.

>>1121164
But the Major works for the rebels...

You frown, crossing your arms. “What kind of processing? Are we being detained?”

The officer raises an eyebrow, apparently not used to people back-talking him. “Not sure,” he finally concedes. “I’m afraid whatever happens once you get to HQ is above my pay-grade. I was just told to get you there.”

“I see,” you say with a scowl. You aren’t sure if the man’s lying, or if they’re really not telling the people in the field. You are about to say something else when there’s a burst of automatic gunfire down the street. Several bullets hit the side of the APC, making everyone flinch.

“Dammit,” the officer scowls. “Must be more rebels. They’ve mounted a full attack.” He looks over at some of his men. “Secure the perimeter!” The soldiers go off down the street and you hear more gunfire. “The rebels have stolen Marine uniforms and equipment,” he says with disgust. “Word from HQ is that the rebels assaulted and captured the Marine headquarters sometime last night and have been masquerading as them ever since. Our forces tried to retake the Marine HQ earlier today, but it was a slaughter.”

There is more gunfire down the street and the officer walks up to a soldier guarding the APC, clearly a crewman. “Sir, we just got another communication from HQ,” the soldier says. “We’re requested back there immediately. With the HVTs.”

The officer looks over at you, putting a hand on your shoulder. “Listen, we need you to come back to HQ with us. Your truck will be delivered to your ship.”

>”That’s not happening.”
>”Okay.”
>”Those aren’t rebels pretending to be Marines. They ARE Marines.”
>Draw your pistol. (initiates combat)
>Draw the mystery gun. (initiates combat)
>Write-in.

>>1121180
>>”Those aren’t rebels pretending to be Marines. They ARE Marines.”
>”That’s not happening.”
>I have a marine contact, they told me to get off planet ASAP because the militia went Loco and attacked the Geomancer and every Marine garrison on planet.
>You're bosses are officially trying to secede from the federation.

>>1121180
>>”Okay.”
>Draw your pistol. (initiates combat)

>>1121180
Eh, this guy will probably just say it's above his pay grade. And we can't really fight here because there are two apcs surrounding us. We could go to HQ and try cut the head off if the snake, but that'll be hard especially with Cynthia and they will disarm us. Why doesn't the geomancer just bombard their HQ.

What this guy said >>1121191
Might as well try to get through to him. And if we have to fight I wanna use the Ray gun.

>>1121180
>>1121191
I'll support this.
Even though I want to use the new gun.

>>1121191
Thirding.

>>1121191
I like this although its risky. Maybe add to
>You're bosses are officially trying to secede from the federation.
>Which wouldn't be a horrible proposition for the militia as a whole if the federation were in the midst of upheavel instead of a large military buildup and quiet stare down with the imperials. Tell me you high up enough on the ladder you get a luxury ride off this place with everything they'll pry outa the vault or are you in this for the long-ish run?

“That’s not happening,” you frown. “We aren’t going anywhere with you.”

The officer looks as though you’ve slapped him in the face. “T-this is non-negotiable! We’re in the middle of a warzone.” He frowns, moving closer to you. “Don’t you understand, we’re trying to stop these rebels from—!”

“They aren’t rebels,” you correct him. “They’re Marines. Actual Marines.” You fish your communicator out of your pocket, holding it up. “I’ve got a contact in the Marines, and they told me that your forces attacked them this morning.” You grimace as you continue. “I think your leaders are lying to you. They’re trying to secede from the Federation.”

The officer looks confused at what you’ve just said, then he looks over at the soldier on the radio. “Call command and tell them that we’ve been held up. It’ll be a while before we can get there.” The soldier nods, and the officer retrieves a walkie talkie from his belt. “Attention fireteams. Disengage and return to the APCs.” He looks over at you. “Kid, you better be telling the truth, because if you’re not, then I’ve just committed treason.”

The soldiers begins filing back into the area between the two APCs in small groups, forming up with each other and talking absently. They certainly don’t remind you of actual soldiers, which makes sense, given their nature as militia. After a while, it looks like everyone is back, and the officer goes over and orders them to form up for a briefing.

“Wait a second,” he says as the briefing is about to start. “Where’s team 4?” He looks around, checking the formation of soldiers. “Has anyone seen team 4?”

“We’re here, sir.” You look over to see three men marching toward the formation with a Marine captive, hands bound and tape over their mouth. As soon as the Marine gets close enough for you to see their face properly, you recognize her. Sergeant Hendricks looks at you with tears in her eyes as the militia lead her over to the officer. “We caught one. Keeps swearing that she’s a real Marine,” one of the militia chuckle. Her armor has been mostly removed, leaving her wearing a blood and soot stained olive-drab jumpsuit. Her eyes dart from the militia, to the officer, then to you. Then she looks at the ground, tears streaming down her face.

>Write-in.

>>1121336
>Let. Her. Go. Or some of you are going find a fresh hole in the middle of your skulls.

>>1121336
Yeah, She's actually my contact. Sarah Hendricks, She's stationed on the Geomancer. Told you your leaders are traitor tot he Federation. You okay Sarah? I was just explaining to this man that his leaders have been polling the wool over his eyes.

>>1121343
Hmm, okay, switching from threats, but still, get ANGERY.
>Let. Her. Go. That's my marine contact.

Then to Sarah

>You alright, Sarah?

>>1121354

Let. Her. Go. That's my marine contact

Bdums ass cant tell a real marin whe they see one

>>1121378
Yeah, fucking morons.

>>1121378
Given the propaganda? probably not. Remember combat scenario makes thing murky as hell, then you have to deal with boss Intl saying the rebels are masquerading as marines. said marines are shooting at them sooooooooooo. yeah.

>>1121389
>>1121397

I get that part beening lied to and war with the fed brocastibg wjo and where they are can fuck things.
But at the same time the gear and wepons and how they fight would be completely differnt from the rebels they have been fighting .
Im sure the marins wore goting shot frist when the not personal army didnt bevile them

You take a step toward the members of team 4. “I’m only going to say this once. Let. Her. Go.”

One of the soldiers raises an eyebrow at you. “Yeah? And why exactly should I listen to some civvy?” He pokes you in the chest, grinning smugly.

The officer, however, steps up to the both of you. “Corporal,” he begins. “Untie the prisoner please.”

“Sir?” The corporal looks at his commander with an expression somewhere between bewilderment and frustration. “I wasn’t aware that we had started letting rebels go free.”

“Is she wearing dog tags?” The commander frowns at the corporal.

“Not sure, sir. Didn’t check.” The corporal shrugs as the officer walks over to Hendricks and finds her dog tags.

“God dammit,” he sighs upon seeing the tags. He gently removes the duct tape from Sarah’s mouth and frowns. “What’s your rank and ID number?”

“Sergeant,” Sarah says angrily. “ID is 5458S-K32-GB.”

The officer looks down at her dog tag once more, then over at the other members of team 4. “Get her out of these ropes.” He then walks over to you, shaking his head. “She recited it perfectly, from memory.”

“Told you,” you reply simply. “She’s my contact within the Marines.”

The officer groans quietly, rubbing the back of his neck. “This is bad…” He then turns to the rest of his men. “Gentlemen. This young woman isn’t a rebel. Neither are the rest of the people we’ve been fighting. Command has been pulling the wool over our eyes.” He sighs. “Spread the word via radio. I’m not sure how many platoons will believe us, but it can’t hurt at this point.” He then looks over at you, frowning guiltily. “I guess you’re free to go then.” He orders the APC blocking your path to move enough for the truck to fit through.

As soon as the soldiers get the ropes off of Sarah’s wrists, she breaks away from them, jogging over to you. “Allen,” she grabs onto your arm. “My… The rest of my team is somewhere out there. We have to find them.”

“Calm down for a second,” you reply. “Are you okay?”

“I’ll be fine. No permanent injuries…” She looks away, you can tell that beneath the tears is an anger you know all too well. “We need to find my team. I got separated from them in an attack, then those goons knocked me out.” She points to the members of squad 4.

>”Okay. Lead the way.”
>”They’re probably dead. We need to get you back to the Marine HQ.”
Also:
>Give Sarah your pistol and use the mystery gun to protect yourself.
>Request a pair of rifles from the militia officer.
>Request a rifle for Sarah, use your own pistol to protect yourself.
And if you chose to search for Sarah’s comrades:
>Tell Cynthia to take the truck back to the Bad Habit.
>Ask Cynthia to tag along with you.

>>1121457
>>”Okay. Lead the way.”
>Request a rifle for Sarah, use your own pistol to protect yourself.

>Tell Cynthia to take the truck back to the Bad Habit.

Tell Tom and Virgil prep for launch.

>>1121457

Okay. Lead the way

Give Sarah your pistol and use the mystery gun to protect yourself

>>1121457
>>”Okay. Lead the way.”
>Request a rifle for Sarah, use your own pistol to protect yourself.
>Tell Cynthia to take the truck back to the Bad Habit.
>Get everyone on the ship on alert and open the armory.

>>1121457
>”Okay. Lead the way.”
>Request a rifle for Sarah, use your own pistol to protect yourself.
>Ask the militia commander to send some guys to escort Cynthia to the ship
She's going to get found by a patrol or run into another roadblock if she goes alone. This way the militia guys can just get her waved through.

>>1121472
Ah. Seconding that last one.

>>1121457
>>1121471
I'll support warning everyone on the ship too.

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You look over at Cynthia. “Take the truck and get back to the Bad Habit. Tell Tom and Corrigan to prep for takeoff and get the rest of the crew armed.”

“Right,” she nods seriously.

“Hold up,” the officer overhears you. “Let me send a man along with you to keep you from getting held up by other militia elements.” He brings a young man, a kid really, from the group of soldiers. “This is private Landry, he’ll keep you safe.”

“Thank you,” she says as the two of them walk over to the truck.

You then look over at the officer and cross your arms. “If we’re going to look for her unit, she’ll need a rifle,” you point to Sarah.

“Right,” the officer nods simply. He hands her an assault rifle and a couple of magazines. “You two be safe out there.” He nods as the two of you begin to walk into the city.

“Lead the way,” you say as you draw your pistol. Sarah shoulders her rifle and the two of you walk out beyond the APCs, turning a corner. “So where were you when you got separated?”

“About four blocks from here,” she replies as she chambers a round and moves forward. The two of you cut through an alleyway to get to the next street over, staying quiet to avoid being detected by anyone. She looks over at you as the two of you exit onto the street. “You sure that pistol will be enough?”

“It’s more than enough to defend myself,” you shrug. “You’re the Marine, not me.” You look about 30 feet up the street to see a group of six militia soldiers walking along the sidewalk, their backs turned to you. Then when you look over at Sarah, you see her raise her rifle. She exhales, and you see her finger brush the trigger lightly.

>”Let them go. Anyone nearby will hear the shots.” (pragmatic)
>”This isn’t you, Sarah.” (concerned)
>Remain silent.
>Write-in.

>>1121560
>>”Let them go. Anyone nearby will hear the shots.” (pragmatic)
besides
>”This isn’t you, Sarah.” (concerned)

>>1121560
>>”This isn’t you, Sarah.” (concerned)
C'mon. This was a misunderstanding. I get that combat is stressful, and you're running through lots of emotions now, but these guys were doing what they thought was right. They were lied to.

>>1121560
>”This isn’t you, Sarah.” (concerned)
I'm pretty sure she is familiar with the chain of command and would be pissed if presumably non-hostile started shooting her up for following orders.

>>1121560
>”This isn’t you, Sarah.” (concerned)
>"Would you want your friend to be shot because your commanders lied to you?"

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You reach up and put a hand on her rifle, forcing the muzzle toward the ground slowly to prevent her from flinching. “Sarah,” you try to get her attention. “This isn’t you.” She finally looks at you as she lowers her rifle. “The militias were lied to. They had no idea what they were actually doing. I know that you’re under a lot of stress right now, but do you really want to do this?”

She looks away, closing her eyes and rubbing the bridge of her nods. “You’re right… You’re right,” she finally replies. “I don’t know what I was thinking. Let’s just find my squad.” She shakes her head, then points to a building down the block in the opposite direction. “That’s where we were when the attack happened.” She begins walking toward the building and you follow her. “We were on the second floor when an anti-tank rocket hit a support beam. The rest of my unit was inside the building, but I was on the balcony when it fell.” She points to a building with a collapsed balcony. “The fall knocked me out.”

“I can see why…” You look up at the place where the balcony used to be, on the third floor. “You think your men are still in the building?”

“If they aren’t, we’ll be able to find where they went,” she says simply. “I got high marks in tracking when I was at boot camp. They wanted me to go into Recon, but I wanted to be aboard a starship instead.” She grimaces. “Never figured I’d be putting those tracking skills to use.” She walks up to the door with her rifle raised, pressing the muzzle to the door with enough force to push it open. “Let’s go.”

The two of you enter the dark building quietly, searching every room on the first floor. Unfortunately, you find nothing. Moving up to the second floor, you discover many discarded shell casings, especially near the windows, but nothing beyond that. You take point as you both ascend the stairs to the third floor, and upon opening the door, you find yourself dragged into the room on the other side and thrown on your ass, a rifle’s muzzle pressing into your face. “Goddamn militia scum,” a gruff voice on the other end of the rifle says as you see stars.

“Corporal!” You hear Sarah shout with a mix of authority and happiness. “Stow that rifle, this one’s with me.”

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You look up to see a familiar corporal looking over at Sarah with disbelief. “Sarge?” He then looks down at you with a hint of recognition, lowering his rifle and extending a hand to you. “Sorry about that, man. Thought you were with those militia goons.” He pulls you to your feet, putting a hand on your shoulder. You immediately realize that he’s the one who called you a hero a couple of days ago.

Sarah sighs with relief. “It’s good to see you alive, Hewitt,” she says. Then she looks over at you with a small nod. “Allen here saved me from the militia.”

“And you say that you’re not a hero,” he says with a gruff grin. “Listen, next time you and me are on the same planet, I’m buying your drinks.” He chuckles.

>”I’d better get going.” (leave)
>”You shouldn’t make me an offer like that, Corporal. You’ll be out of money within the evening.” (joke)
>”Where’s the rest of your unit?”
>”How did you guys manage to hold out here? Sarah said the militia used a rocket launcher to attack this place.”
>Write-in.

>>1121685
>>”You shouldn’t make me an offer like that, Corporal. You’ll be out of money within the evening.” (joke)
>>”Where’s the rest of your unit?”

Also:
>TELL HIM ABOUT THE CONSPIRACY

>>1121685
>”You shouldn’t make me an offer like that, Corporal. You’ll be out of money within the evening.” (joke)
>”Where’s the rest of your unit?”

>The militia bigwigs told thier boys that the rebels somehow took control of the Marine posts and were using thier gear. Bullshit but it passed enough to be believed. Most of the men out there don't even know they're succesionists.

>>1121685
>”You shouldn’t make me an offer like that, Corporal. You’ll be out of money within the evening.” (joke)
>”Where’s the rest of your unit?”

Hey there Hawkeye. Where's your bow?

>>1121685
>>1121689
Supporting this.

>>1121685
>>”You shouldn’t make me an offer like that, Corporal. You’ll be out of money within the evening.” (joke)

>>1121685
>”You shouldn’t make me an offer like that, Corporal. You’ll be out of money within the evening.” (joke)
>”Where’s the rest of your unit?”

>>1121689
Which conspiracy?

>>1121735
The one where Militia Command is lying to them.

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“You shouldn’t make me an offer like that,” you chuckle. “You’d be out of money before the night was through!”

“Wouldn’t be the first time, sir,” he grins. “Hell, we ran up a tab so high once on Venus that we actually got an official reprimand for it.”

You chuckle with him for a moment before getting serious again. “Listen, the militia leaders have told the regulars that the rebels raided the Marine HQ and stole their uniforms and equipment.” You sigh. “They don’t know they’re fighting the actual Marines.”

“Makes sense,” Hewitt nods. “I thought something was up when they started attacking out of nowhere.” He shakes his head. “Brass lying to their subordinates, go figure.”

You look around the room, raising an eyebrow. “Where’s the rest of your unit?”

Hewitt frowns, getting serious. “Follow me. They’re in here.” He turns around and guides you and Sarah into the room behind him. Inside the room are four other soldiers seated in various locations. All injured. They look up as the Corporal enters the room with you and Sarah in tow. “Heads up, kiddos, the Sarge is back.” The Marines regard you and Sarah with a mix of worry and relief. Looking over, you see a corpsman attending to the wounds of one of the Marines.

“Where’s Squier?” Sarah raises an eyebrow at the Corporal.

“About that…” He frowns, looking away. “Sorry Sarge, he got hit by shrapnel when that RPG hit the building. There wasn’t anything we could do…”

“Oh…” Sarah looks away, seemingly trying to process what she’s just heard. Finally, she scowls and walks over to a corner of the room, kicking the wall hard. “Dammit…”

The corporal walks over to Hendricks and puts a hand on her shoulder. “Sarge,” he says just above a whisper. “We’ve got transport inbound, but it’ll be at least half an hour until they get here.”

“Understood,” she nods. Turning to you, she wipes her eyes and approaches you. “Thank you, Allen. For everything.” She salutes you, a look of focus on her face.

You salute her back, nodding. “Just glad I was there to help,” you reply.

She then approaches you, wrapping her arms around you and sighing. “You need to get to your ship before the militias encircle it. It’s what they’ve been doing to other ships, so that they can keep people from getting off-world.”

>”See you around, Sergeant.” (leave)
>”Are you all equipped to wait for transport?”
>”It’s about a half-hour walk to the docks from here. Do you know if there are any abandoned vehicles nearby?”
>Write-in.

>>1121779
>>”Are you all equipped to wait for transport?”
>>”It’s about a half-hour walk to the docks from here. Do you know if there are any abandoned vehicles nearby?”

>>1121779
>”Are you all equipped to wait for transport?”
>”It’s about a half-hour walk to the docks from here. Do you know if there are any abandoned vehicles nearby?”

>>1121779
>>”See you around, Sergeant.” (leave)

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“Are you all equipped to wait for transport?” You look around the room as Sarah steps back from you.

“As equipped as we’ll ever be,” Hewitt says with a curt nod. “Currently, we’ve got enough ammunition for everyone to have two full magazines, so I took the liberty of having everyone switch to semi-auto to conserve ammo.” He then gestures to his belt, where you see four grenades. “These babies are the last grenades we have, unfortunately.”

Sarah then steps forward into the center of the room. “Everyone who’s able, get your gear on and set up defensive positions in the windows. I want crossing lines of fire in case we have to deal with a massed assault. Make sure you check your targets before firing.” The marines all stand up in unison and go to the windows, aiming out into the street.

“It’s a long walk to the docks. You wouldn’t happen to know about any abandoned vehicles nearby, would you?” You cross your arms.

Hewitt steps up, nodding. “I checked the first floor a while ago. There’s a garage that opens up into the alleyway behind this building. They’ve got a couple bicycles, a dual purpose motorcycle, and an old car down there.” He leads you downstairs as Sarah waves goodbye to you. Upon arriving, you see the vehicles he spoke of. “Looks like you’ll have to manually open the door,” he says with a sigh. “Personally, I’d recommend the motorcycle if you know how to ride one. It’s a lot harder to catch someone on a dirtbike than it is to catch someone in a car.”

You walk up to the car in question, an old all-terrain sedan designed for the outer colonies. Low on comfort and speed, but easy to keep running, and almost impossible to kill. The dual purpose dirtbike, on the other hand, is small and light, and you could probably outrun anything on the road in it with some luck. Then of course, there are the bicycles, silent, yet about as fast as a person sprinting. You frown, considering your options.

>”You seem wise beyond your rank, corporal. What did you do before you were a Marine?”
>”Why don’t you all take this car and get back to HQ that way?”
>”Try not to kill too many of those militia.”
>Take the car.
>Take the dirtbike.
>Take the bicycle.
>Write-in.

>>1121779
>”Are you all equipped to wait for transport?”
>”It’s about a half-hour walk to the docks from here. Do you know if there are any abandoned vehicles nearby?”

>>1121851
>>”Try not to kill too many of those militia.”
>Take the dirtbike.
More maneuverable and still quick.

>>1121851
>>”Try not to kill too many of those militia.”
>Take the dirtbike.

>>1121851
>>Take the dirtbike.
for all the epic jumps over fighting and explosions thats bound to happen

>>1121851
>”Try not to kill too many of those militia.”
>Take the dirtbike.
If only it was a Dodge Charger instead of a sedan. We could be the Duke of Hazzard.

>>1121851
>”Try not to kill too many of those militia.”
>Take the dirtbike.
step on it boys

>>1121851
>Take the dirtbike.
Imperial funded coup? Dr Sopia mind controlled the militia commanders?

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“Try not to kill too many militia,” you say simply. “A lot of them seem like regular folks.”

Hewitt shrugs. “They aren’t. Those thugs have been committing atrocities since long before we arrived. Stealing from the local populace, looting en-masse, and killing anyone who resisted…” He grimaces. “Still, we won’t go out of our way to kill them.”

“I guess that’s the best I can hope for,” you shrug. “Take care of yourself, Corporal.”

“You too, sir,” he replies as he heads back upstairs. You then kneel down next to your chosen mode of transport: the dirtbike.

It is quite similar to the one you rode when you were in high school, only with a larger engine and different wheels. You yank the ignition wires out from their housing and run them across each other, smiling as the bike rattles to life.

You walk up to the garage door and yank it open as you wait for the bike to warm up. It sounds like it has a compression issue, but you doubt you’ll be keeping it long enough to care anyway. Hopping onto it, you kick the stand up and take off into the alleyway, picking up speed and whipping out onto a side street. Interestingly, there aren’t any patrols around right now, militia or Marine, and you’re thankful for it.

Speeding up another side street, the road to the docks comes into view, and you immediately see some militia soldiers standing around a jeep. Opening the throttle, you weave between the men and their jeep, startling them enough for one man to fall over. The others, however, begin firing at you as soon as they regain their bearings.

You speed up through the docks toward your ship, which you spot immediately. As you rumble closer to it, the cargo ramp begins to open slowly. However, you check your side mirror to see four jeeps now on your tail. Some bullets tear past you as you approach the ramp. Some of your crew, specifically Cynthia and Virgo, stand immediately inside the cargo bay. Cynthia fires a rifle at one of the jeeps, hitting the driver in the head and causing it to crash into another, sending both vehicles into a wall. However, the other two jeeps are still hot on your tail, and while this bike is maneuverable, those jeeps have better acceleration. You feel a bullet cut through your jacket, right next to your abdomen, and you hope that the heat you feel on your side is just residual heat from the bullet. However, just before you reach the cargo ramp, one of them shoots your back tire.

You feel the bike lose traction beneath you, and foolishly you try to skid to a stop out of instinct. However, you’re on concrete and not dirt, so the bike hits the ground hard, sending you sliding into the ramp hard. You feel the wind being knocked out of you as you try to stand, only for Cynthia to grab you by the back of your collar.

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“You’re heavy!” She drags you up the ramp as the jeeps skid to a halt in front of the Bad Habit, their occupants dismounting. All six soldiers begins walking toward you, their rifles at the ready.

“Surrender or we will shoot!” One of the soldiers shouts at you, only to shut up as soon as he sees Virgo. “Oh, Hell. This is the ship with that psychic alien! Kill it!” He raises his rifle at Virgo, who merely shrugs. The rest of the soldiers raise their rifles at Virgo as well, causing him to step back a little. You look up to see Cynthia raise her rifle at one of the soldiers.

“Captain, leave this to me,” he says calmly. You’ve seen Virgo in action before, he’s good, but you don’t think he’ll be able to stop bullets from six different rifles. You are about to reach for your pistol, when the small object at the small of your back catches your attention. The mystery gun.

>Let Virgo handle them.
>Use the mystery gun to help him out.

>>1121980
>>Use the mystery gun to help him out.

>>1121980
>>Use the mystery gun to help him out.

>>1121980
>>Use the mystery gun to help him out.

>>1121980
>>Use the mystery gun to help him out.

Alright, the mystery gun is locked in.
What setting would you like to use?
>1
>2
>3
> 4

>>1122005
2

>>1122005
>>2
You want power, but you don't know what even the base setting on this thing can do. Best play it safe.

>>1122005
>>2

>>1122005
>2

>>1122005
>3

File: 1336008941277.jpg (1.04 MB, 1920x1080)

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>>1122005
2

File: Super gun.gif (1.89 MB, 500x300)

1.89 MB GIF

You draw the mystery gun, feeling the subtle pulse in the handle as you aim it. Without even looking down the minimalistic sights, you seem to already know where the projectile will hit.

You aim for center mass of the guy closest to Virgo, who is standing straight in front of one of the jeeps. Flipping the selector setting to 2, you squeeze one of the triggers, expecting something to happen, only for the gun to remain quiet. You keep the first trigger held down while pulling the second one, and Hell erupts from your hand.

A bright, red beam about four feet wide bursts from the barrel of the gun, nearly blinding you as it tears into the man in your sights. A massive hole is blown through his torso, and the entire upper half of his body catches on fire, causing him to scream with whatever strength he has left. As this happens, the beam cuts clean through him, slamming into the jeep behind him. And the jeep explodes instantly, throwing shrapnel every direction and knocking two other soldiers down, likely killing them. You feel the heat from the weapon’s beam as it dies down, making a sizzling noise. The remainder of the soldiers look fearfully at you as you stand up, aiming at them.

Virgo then looks over at you with wide eyes, before nodding. “Thanks, Captain.” Then he closes his eyes and does his Magus thing. The remaining soldiers are thrown into the side of the non-exploded jeep hard enough to knock them out.

You look back at Cynthia, who looks absolutely terrified to be near the weapon in your hands. “W-what is that thing?”

“Hell if I know,” you reply breathlessly. “Let’s get the ramp closed and get out of here before more of these guys show up.”

You arrive on the bridge to find Corrigan and Tom in their seats. As you sit down, Tom glares back at you. “I specifically remember you promising to not get kidnapped this time.”

“Not now, Tom,” you reply. “Are we ready to take off?”

“Of course, preparations have been made.” He nods.

“And what about enemy SAM and AA systems?” You raise an eyebrow as you buckle in.

“The main enemy SAM positions are just outside of this spaceport, well within the range of our missiles,” Corrigan says confidently. “However, they are manned. If you do not want to kill their crews, we have decoys that can spoof their missiles instead. Still, the decoys are not perfect, and a missile might get through.”

>”Don’t waste time on decoys. Smoke ‘em.”
>”Use decoys if they fire on us.”
>Write-in.

>>1122073
>>”Use decoys if they fire on us.”
Let's try to avoid property damage for now

>>1122073
>>”Use decoys if they fire on us.”

>>1122073
>>”Use decoys if they fire on us.”


We have a Caster? Sweet.

>>1122073
>"Smoke one, then launch the decoys at them. I'd run if I were them at that point."

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

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>>1122086
Well, not quite. It looks like pic related and uses batteries. Functionally though, yeah, it's a super powerful handgun of questionable origin that strikes fear into the hearts of your enemies.

>>1122073
>>”Use decoys if they fire on us.”

>>1122091
How much fun would you have had writing it for setting 4 if anon's went for it? Also how long would our valiant captain have had to spend in the hospital? Ahahaha. How cheezy of punchlines lines would Allen actually be able to bring himself to say? Just "Get some!", or all the way to "you should see my other gun."?

>>1122103
>How much fun would you have had writing it for setting 4 if anon's went for it?
An immeasurable amount.

>Also how long would our valiant captain have had to spend in the hospital?
At that range? Probably most of the voyage to Thalos.

>How cheezy of punchlines lines would Allen actually be able to bring himself to say? Just "Get some!", or all the way to "you should see my other gun."?
Probably somewhere in the middle. I do know that if he ever throws someone into an electrical hazard, he's going to say "Hmm... shocking."

File: Doctor.gif (4.72 MB, 334x228)

4.72 MB GIF

>>1122117
I feel at some point we may want someone with genuinely advanced medical expertise on our boat, yet at the same time acknowledge that that would be the sort of highly sought after professional who would get never get on our rustbucket unless they were on the lam like Simon from firefly. Mind you Virgo as I understand it sorta fills that role too, probably redundant for our size of crew beyond the basic first aid we already have.

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>>1122073
>>”Use decoys if they fire on us.”

>>1122073
>”Don’t waste time on decoys. Smoke ‘em.”
The geomancer will be able drop more ground troops this way.

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“Launch decoys if they fire on us,” you say. Then you lean over and turn on the shipwide PA. “Attention all crew, we’re taking off. Buckle up.” With that, you look over at Tom and nod as he lifts off from the docks and retracts the landing gear.

The Bad Habit noses up toward the sky, rocketing into the upper atmosphere quickly. There is an alarm from the weapon-control panel. “Missile detected,” Corrigan says bluntly. “Launching decoys.”

You feel the ship shudder at the decoys shoot from their tubes, causing the missiles to dummy off in odd directions in front of the ship. You lean back in your chair as the sky gets darker and darker. “We’ve left New Albany’s atmosphere,” Tom says as he adjusts course slightly. “Should take us about two hours to be in position for a safe FTL jump. No hostiles in pursuit.” He swivels around to face you. “That was a hell of a rush sir.”

“I agree,” you nod as you unbuckle. Putting a hand to your side, you confirm that the graze didn’t break the skin, though it did tear your jacket up. Suddenly, you remember the canteen on your belt, unclipping it as you take a drink.

“I’m going to stay on the sensors up here until we get ready to do our FTL burn,” Tom continues. “In the meantime, you should get a couple hours’ shut-eye, sir. I can wake you up when it’s time to jump.”

You stand up, stretching. “You know, I think I might do that.” Just as you are about to leave the bridge, there is a buzzing on the Q-band.

“It’s encoded,” Tom says with a frown. “Looks like an old code too. Give me a second to crack it.” Within fifteen seconds, you hear a clear signal.

“Captain,” a familiar voice crackles over the Q-band. “Remember me? Sam Higgins? Anyway, I thought I’d keep in touch with you via Q-band for the moment. I don’t exactly have access to my regular communicator. We should meet up next time you’re on Venus. I’ll send along some contact info when I get the chance. Kingfisher out.” With that, the communication ends.

You look tiredly at Tom, who shrugs. “Anyway, sir. Like I said, I’ll be up here if you need me.” He leans back in his chair as Corrigan shoots you a worried glance, then leaves the bridge.

You drag yourself back to your quarters and remove your mostly-ruined clothes, getting into the shower and scrubbing the grime of the day off. After you get a T-shirt and pajama pants on, you curl up on your couch with the book Blackheart gave you, reading it until your eyes can’t stay open anymore.

What an exhausting few days.

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And that's gonna be it for tonight's session! We'll resume tomorrow, though I might not run on Saturday depending on my schedule.

Mood music:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1A9lcO2xeMQ

Why do you think the Militia leaders lied and ordered an attack against the Marines?

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>>1122201
Nanomachines

>>1122201
Either the bitch we shotgun surgeried (or her allies) bribed them or puppeted them so she could smuggle herself and her assets out, or they saw the writing on the wall and pre-emptively struck.

>>1122201
Possibly because because they felt it was the rebels the feds would support so why wait for them to get first blood, maybe they had a deeper connection to miss unethical science and were worried it'd come to light, or just wanted to tie up the feds so the top brass could abscond with all the shinies they likely wouldn't get to keep even if the Feds backed them? Maybe it could be all or none of those. Likely they'd done enough serious shit (ethically and politically) they thought trying to stay in power would be untenable if their operation came under scrutiny. That and like stated before its not unreasonable for them to have assumed the feds would ultimately back the rebels. There's alot of possibilities though, especially if there are/were out of planet pressures and influences affecting the militia top brass decision making process. Maybe the Militia was divided at the top too and this was a part of it casting the lot and forcing the others to commit after tying them to their fate.

>>1122235
Actually y'know what sounds horrible but would makes sense, if the rebels (One clever and no longer enamored with the feds old spec ops fella in particular) really did false flag the shit out of this to secure federal support after the militia retaliated.

>>1122201
The Militia as far as we know had no reason to attack to the Marines. In fact they had more to lose by attacking them, because before this incident I bet the Marines would have sided with them.

So looking at who gains from all this, its obviously the rebels. The rebels were even said to be behind the attack on HQ, so after that all they had to do is force the leaders of the Militia to lie. My theory is that they did this by allying with the evil doctor to use her nanotech.

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You lean back in your chair, absently holding a piece of the loot from your trip to the boneyard. The box sits on the wardroom table in front of you as you go through its contents in more detail. You hold the survey card up to the light one last time before putting it back in the box and hauling it up to your quarters for the time being.

Last night, the Bad Habit made its FTL jump toward Thalos, a jump that will hopefully take no more than five days. As you walk out into the access hall between the bridge and your quarters, you peer into the bridge to see Tom sitting at the controls, a large set of headphones on as he listens to music to pass his time on watch. There isn’t much to watch in an FTL journey, but he insists on staying up there anyway.

You then decide to head down to the wardroom again and make some coffee, seeing as it’s early and nobody else is awake yet. You turn the machine on and sit down again, relaxing for a bit while it brews.

Thinking back to what happened on New Albany, you can’t help but wonder why the militia brass would’ve picked a fight with the Marines. Not just that, but they went out of their way to attack a battlecruiser and the Marine HQ.

You take your mind off of the subject, instead thinking of what might be happening on Thalos. You certainly hope it won’t be anything that endangers you or your crew, but at the same time, it wouldn’t be all that surprising to you either. Though you spent a period of a couple weeks on Thalos, most of that was spent going in and out of consciousness. And even when you were awake and recovering, you were separate from most of the other Thulians. According to Virgo, they didn’t want anything to do with a Federal Navy pilot due to their neutrality.

You shake your head, yawning as the bell on the coffee machine rings, telling you that your brew is ready. You walk into the kitchen and grab your old Federal Navy mug, filling it with coffee and then dumping some sugar in it. You take a sip, turning around.

“Captain,” one of your crew greets you tiredly.

>Who is it?

>>1124019
>Who is it?
Cynthia

>>1124019
>Who is it?
Space elf

>>1124019
cynthia

>>1124019
>Who is it?
Corrigan

>>1124019
our navigator

>>1124019
> Samantha

>>1124228
When you say 'navigator' do you mean Tom, who is the official navigator/pilot/1st officer, or do you mean Samantha, who has sort of become the de-facto navigator?

>>1124256
sam

Well in that case, we've got a tie. I'll wait ten minutes for a tiebreaker, then roll if one doesn't come.

>>1124283
Samantha

>>1124328
Huh. I was actually just about to roll it.

Writing now.

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“Hey Samantha,” you say with a yawn. “Want some coffee?”

She nods. “I’d love some, sir.” You reach into the cupboard and find a mug for her.

“Up kind of early, aren’t you?” You raise an eyebrow as you hand the mug to her.

“Couldn’t sleep,” she shrugs as she walks over to the coffee machine. “I mean, I’m not space-sick or anything, this is just a way different ship than the Wales…” She frowns, filling her mug. The two of you head back out to the Wardroom, sitting down.

“I know what you mean,” you say simply. “We don’t exactly run things the Navy way around here.” You shrug, taking another sip of your coffee. “I got kind of burned out from that way of life.”

“I can see why,” she replies. “I uh… I heard what your time in the War was like. Saw some of the old news footage...” She looks away with a frown. “I guess you and I are more alike than I first thought.”

“Maybe,” you admit. “Still, I didn’t have to deal with losing two years…” You rub the back of your neck. “You seem to be taking it pretty well though.”

“I’m trying,” she nods. “I guess I’m just kind of taking it in stride. At least as much as I can.” She looks like she doesn’t want to say what she’s about to say next. “After what happened with the Abraxis… How did you deal with it?”

You shrug, trying not to think about the days immediately following the incident. “I didn’t deal with it,” you admit. “At least not for a long time after it happened… I just kept pushing forward.” You sigh. “And even now I have people telling me I haven’t dealt with it yet.” There is a long pause as you think on what you’ve just said. “Maybe… Maybe they’re right sometimes.”

“That’s…” She shakes her head sadly. “I’m sorry I brought it up.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Don’t be. I’m used to talking about it.”

She looks back at you, finishing her coffee. “So what happened anyway? Back during the War, they kept the whole thing mostly under wraps.”

You shoot her a dangerous look, one that you aren’t sure is entirely you. “The official story is that there was an Imperial sneak attack. And that’s that.”

She raises her eyebrows. “Fair enough,” she replies sheepishly.

>”So do you have any family that should be notified about your survival?”
>”What else have you learned about the postwar galaxy we all call home now?”
>”I have an old survey card with some coordinates on it. Would you mind taking a look at it to see where it leads?”
>Write-in.

>>1124400
>>”So do you have any family that should be notified about your survival?”

>>1124400
>”I have an old survey card with some coordinates on it. Would you mind taking a look at it to see where it leads?”
I'd like to ask about family too, but this seems to be the kind of quest where you have to routelock or miss the opportunity forever.

>>1124413
>but this seems to be the kind of quest where you have to routelock or miss the opportunity forever.
If you don't mind me asking, what makes you think that?

>>1124400
>”What else have you learned about the postwar galaxy we all call home now?”
And once thats done
>”I have an old survey card with some coordinates on it. Would you mind taking a look at it to see where it leads?”

>>1124400
>>”What else have you learned about the postwar galaxy we all call home now?”
>>”I have an old survey card with some coordinates on it. Would you mind taking a look at it to see where it leads?”

>>1124400
>”So do you have any family that should be notified about your survival?”
Finally! I'm aware the were some anons worried that if people found out we went to the Wale we would be in trouble but I really don't see it. The treasury already went there to retrieve their gold. Maybe the navy will be pissed that we didn't report its position but Leander already hates us so meh.

>>1124400
>”So do you have any family that should be notified about your survival?”
>”What else have you learned about the postwar galaxy we all call home now?”

>>1124493
Seconding

“What else have you learned about the postwar galaxy?” You raise an eyebrow at her.

“Not much,” she admits. “I’ve been reading whatever I can, but it’s tough to get stuff to read out here. Still, I watch the TV whenever I can.” She frowns. “It seems like there’s going to be another war between the Federation and Empire though, with how they act toward each other.”

“Hopefully that won’t happen,” you reply with a scowl. “We could use a decade or so of peace. At least a decade.”

“Yeah,” she nods. “I didn’t realize how bad things got after the War. First there was the recession, and I’ve heard people talk about the Red Flu…” She raises an eyebrow at you. “How bad was that?”

“It killed everyone that it was capable of killing, then went extinct,” you frown. “Four billion died on Earth alone. Some colonies were completely wiped out. Everyone knows someone who was killed by it.”

“That’s horrible…” She looks at you with wide eyes.

“Anyway, that’s enough of that,” you shrug. “Something’s been nagging at me for a while now. Do you have any family back on Earth who might want to know you’re alive?”

She nods. “My mom and dad live on Earth. Not sure about my brother and sisters though. They’re old enough to have moved away at this point.” She looks at you with an expression that you’re familiar with, a pleading one. “Would we be able to stop by Earth sometime so that I can look them up?”

“I’ll see what I can do,” you reply. “We’ll probably be stopping by Earth sometime soon anyway, so it shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Thanks,” she nods with a smile. “It’ll be nice to be back on Earth.”

You are about to say something else, but you remember your find from the boneyard. “You’re familiar with the Survey Corps, right?”

“Sort of,” she replies. “They were the first interstellar explorers, way back in the early days of the colonies, right?”

“Yeah,” you say. “I found something interesting relating to them.” You stand up, finishing your coffee. “Follow me.”

The two of you head upstairs and you retrieve the survey card, handing it to her. “This doesn’t have a catalogue number,” she says with astonishment. “That means this leads to an uncharted destination…”

You raise an eyebrow at her. “Can you find out more about it?”

“I’ll have to plug these coordinates into the nav-computer’s star-charts, but it shouldn’t be a problem.” She raises an eyebrow at you. “Did you find anything else with this?”

>”Some flash drives, a piece of crystal, and a strange gun.”
>”Nothing much.” (be vague)
>”I only found the card.” (lie)
>”Why are you asking?”
>Write-in.

>>1124665
>>”Some flash drives, a piece of crystal, and a strange gun.”
The gun was what made the death beam that blew up the jeep.

>>1124665
>”Some flash drives, a piece of crystal, and a strange gun.”
Strange that she doesn't seem overly worried about her family probably having had a funeral for her already. I mean we do have some fancy FTL communicator.

>>1124665
>>”Some flash drives, a piece of crystal, and a strange gun.”

>>1124691
Maybe her parents are rural folk or something, can't reach them except by snail mail

>>1124665
>>”Some flash drives, a piece of crystal, and a strange gun.”

>>1124665
>”Some flash drives, a piece of crystal, and a strange gun.”

I think I've either contracted food poisoning or just caught something. Either way, I doubt I'll be able to continue the session tonight. I'll be running tomorrow if I can though. Sorry everyone.

>>1124811
feel better Zap. have a good one

>>1124811
Tell everyone to bring you chicken soup and if they say they can't then you can guilt trip them for not caring about you.

>>1124665
>>”Some flash drives, a piece of crystal, and a strange gun.”

>>1124488
>If you don't mind me asking, what makes you think that?
Only all the times we had to pick a single dialogue option out of a list when some clearly could be combined.

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>>1126349
Ah, right. Because there definitely haven't been countless prompts where I let people choose multiple options.

>>1126764
I still remember that time where we had to choose between asking how Cynthia's feeling and discussing business opportunities.

>>1126790
Are you talking about the one dialogue prompt when we were back on Ganymede? That was a one-time thing so that I could get a feel for a slightly different dialogue system. I wasn't satisfied with it, so I kept letting people combine options. All you have to do is look at the rest of this thread, or really any thread, to see that I don't mind combining options.

I'm honestly not sure where you're getting the idea that I don't allow multiple dialogue choices. Look at the last five threads and you'll see plenty of votes for multiple options.

>>1126840
Ok, sorry. Maybe I let that one instance get to me too much.

Session will be running in about 1 and a half hours.

“Some flash drives, a piece of crystal, and a strange gun.” You frown as you recall all of the items. “They were all in a metal box together.”

“Interesting,” she replies. “That probably means all of that stuff is either from that set of coordinates, or related to them in some way.” She frowns, rubbing her chin thoughtfully. “If I had a computer, we could check what’s on those flash drives… And we’ll have to wait until we’re not moving before we can use the Nav-computer to check out those coordinates.”

“Where do you think they lead?” You raise an eyebrow.

“Judging by the numerical designation they’ve used… It’s somewhere in the Eagle Nebula… But without an exact reading from a navigation computer, I can’t pinpoint where it would be within the nebula.” She scowls as she scratches the back of her neck. “The Eagle Nebula isn’t exactly small, nor is it well-explored…”

“So this gun and the crystal came from… Somewhere in the Eagle Nebula? How would this kind of stuff end up in a junkyard?”

Samantha shrugs. “Maybe the box got stolen by people who didn’t realize what they had. Or maybe it just got lost. The Survey Corps was a management nightmare near the end, if I recall correctly.”

You nod. The original Galactic Survey Corps was founded in the late 2100’s when the first primitive FTL drives were developed. Mismanagement and a lack of funding eventually caused the organization to fall into a state of chaos until it was saved by the Federal Navy and turned into the Naval Survey Corps. But even now, they’re a shell of their former selves. You’d heard stories of everything from records being misplaced to captains appropriating entire starships and attempting to conquer uninhabited systems for themselves. Though most of that stuff happened right before the Naval reformation.

Samantha looks at you inquisitively. “Would it be possible for me to look at the artifacts you found? I’m no expert, but I might be able to tell you a little bit about them.”

>”Sure.” (let her examine the artifacts)
>”Not right now.” (decline)
>”You mentioned the Eagle Nebula not being well-explored. Why is that?”
>”One of the crew probably have a personal computer. We could always ask around and see if someone will let us use it to look at the flash drives.”
>Write-in.

>>1133790
>”Sure.” (let her examine the artifacts)
>”One of the crew probably have a personal computer. We could always ask around and see if someone will let us use it to look at the flash drives.”

>>1133790
>>”Sure.” (let her examine the artifacts)
>”You mentioned the Eagle Nebula not being well-explored. Why is that?”
>”One of the crew probably have a personal computer. We could always ask around and see if someone will let us use it to look at the flash drives.”

>>1133790
> All of the options! Except for decline, and write-in.
What kind of music is Tom listening to?

>>1133836
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M691cY1WwoQ

“Sure,” you nod, opening the door to your cabin. “Come on in, the box is on the coffee table.” You and Samantha walk in and she sits on the couch in front of the box, while you sit on your office chair and swivel to face her.

“This is definitely a Federal Navy storage container…” Samantha opens the box carefully, setting the lid aside as she examines the box’s contents.

“Oh,” you reach over to your dresser and pull the strange gun from the top of it, handing it to her. “This is the gun, by the way.”

She gently takes the gun, looking closely at it. “Have you fired it yet?”

“Yeah…” You sigh. “It blew up a jeep and blasted a man almost in half.”

She grimaces, eyes wide. “One heck of a gun…” She then opens the battery chamber, a surprised expression upon discovering it. “Looks like some kind of battery… Man-portable energy weapons aren’t a thing now, are they?”

“No,” you reply simply. “That’s the first one I’ve seen.”

“Then this is something that wasn’t made by human hands. Or at least not by the hands of any humans in the Empire or Federation.” Samantha returns the battery to its chamber, looking at the selector switch. “So it’s got power settings too. What setting did you fire it on?”

“Two,” you say.

“And it blew up a jeep?” She looks at you with bewilderment. “So this isn’t just some proof-of-concept thing either. It’s more powerful than anything short of a rocket launcher.” She then points to setting four. “There’s a skull and crossbones here. You noticed that, right?”

“I did,” you reply simply. “Figured that it was the most destructive setting.”

“Probably,” she says. “Avoid using it until we learn more about this thing.”

“Duly noted,” you chuckle a little. “I wasn’t really planning on using it unless I absolutely had to though.” You then point to the other items in the box. “I think the crystal is the same substance that the handle is made from.”

“Looks like it,” she agrees. “Maybe a sample they took back to have tested? I doubt we have the equipment to run any tests on it though.” Samantha then pulls the bag of flash drives out, examining them. “Shame we can’t look at what’s on these.”

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“I’m sure one of the crew have a personal computer. We could ask around.” You shrug. “Worth a shot anyway.” You then lean back in the chair, thinking about what Samantha mentioned earlier. “You said that the Eagle Nebula wasn’t well-explored. Any particular reason for that?”

She looks at you with a puzzled expression. “Nebulae are extremely difficult to navigate through on account of the thick groups of stars. Modern computers don’t have so much trouble with them, but in the early days, expeditions were being lost in nebulae all the time.”

>”So you’re saying that whoever found this stuff originally managed to do what was almost impossible back then?”
>”I’m thinking Solfrid might know something about the gun. The crystal handle reminds me of Psirinean seeker crystals.”
>”Does it feel like that gun’s… Pulsing in your hand?”
>Write-in.

>>1134032
> does it feel like dat gun is throbbing in your grasp?
If not we run and tell Solfrid about how our gun is better than hers.

>>1134032
>>”Does it feel like that gun’s… Pulsing in your hand?”

“Does it feel like that gun’s… Pulsing in your hand?” You point to the weapon in Samantha’s hand.

She looks at the gun, then back to you. “At first I thought it was my imagination,” she replies with astonishment. “It’s almost like this gun is alive or something.”

“That was one of the first things I noticed about it too,” you admit. “But it only started doing that after I put the battery in.”

“Interesting,” she nods. “So this pulsing is connected to the gun having power. It might be running an electric current through the crystal.” Samantha sits the gun down and pulls the piece of crystal out of the box again. “The best way to test that would be by running an electric current through this sample as well.” She shrugs. “I’d bet we could have Cynthia rig something up. She’s a miracle worker when it comes to machines. Especially considering what she has to work with.” She looks guilty all of a sudden. “N-not that there’s anything wrong with this ship!”

You chuckle. “I’m aware that the Bad Habit is old,” you say. “Oh yeah, there was another thing in the box.” You pull out the note that was sitting atop the gun box and hand it to Samantha.

“To a special friend, huh?” She raises an eyebrow at the note. “So this was all intended to be given to somebody. I wonder who.”

“Who knows?” You shrug as you lean back in the chair again. “Maybe we’ll find out if we ever follow those coordinates. Might be an adventure.”

Samantha chuckles. “I’m sure it will be, sir.” She puts the crystal back in the box and hands you then gun, which you return to the top of your dresser.

>”Been getting along well with the crew?” (inquire about her interactions with your crew)
>”Let’s see if we can find a computer to plug those flash drives into.”
>”How much longer do you plan on staying aboard?”
>Write-in.

Also, I'm going to call the session here for tonight. I'll try running tomorrow afternoon, but it's just taking too long to get enough votes right now. The session will resume around 4:00 PM EST tomorrow, so keep any votes coming until then.

>>1134533
>>>”Been getting along well with the crew?” (inquire about her interactions with your crew)
>>”Let’s see if we can find a computer to plug those flash drives into.”

>>1134533
This >>1134548
Not sure about running a current through random space crystals with unknown properties.

>>1134533
>>1134548
this

>>1134533
>>”Been getting along well with the crew?” (inquire about her interactions with your crew)
>>”Let’s see if we can find a computer to plug those flash drives into.”

>>1134533
>”Been getting along well with the crew?” (inquire about her interactions with your crew)
>”Let’s see if we can find a computer to plug those flash drives into.”

File: Wardroom 2.jpg (45 KB, 635x423)

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“Been getting along well with the crew?” You lean forward.

“Yeah,” Samantha replies happily. “Everyone here nice. It seems like even when your crew have disagreements, they try to work through them instead of fight over them. And they seem like they’re all good people.”

“They wouldn’t be on my crew if they weren’t,” you reply with a small grin. “I knew most of them for a while before I actually got this ship.”

She nods. “Cynthia was telling me stories about how the two of you were friends in high school.”

“Further back than that,” you chuckle. “We practically grew up together. You been hanging out with her a lot?”

“I helped her with organizing tools while you were missing,” she says seriously. “I think it kept her mind off of things.”

“I see,” you nod. That sounds like Cynthia to you. “Let’s see if we can find a computer to read those flash drives.” You stand up and gather the bag, motioning for Samantha to follow you.

Heading downstairs, you see that some of the crew have woken up and entered the wardroom. Virgo sits at the tables, watching the TV, and Cynthia is over at the coffee machine, helping herself to a cup.

“Morning Allen,” she calls from the kitchen. “You already get breakfast?”

“Not hungry,” you admit. “You wouldn’t happen to have a personal computer, would you?”

She shrugs. “Closest thing to a PC I have would be the diagnostic terminal down in Engineering. Why?”

You hold up the bag of flash drives. “Trying to find out what’s on these.”

She frowns thoughtfully, then looks over at Virgo. “Hey Virgo, do you have a computer?”

“Beg your pardon?” He looks away from the TV, having not been listening to your conversation.

“Do you have a personal computer?” Cynthia frowns a little as she repeats her question.

“Afraid I don’t,” he admits. “Never really needed one.”

You rub the bridge of your nose, thinking of which crew member would be most likely to have a computer.

>You’d be willing to bet that Solfrid has one, seeing as she’s a programmer.
>Corrigan might have one. She’s always mentioning new prototype weapons that you should buy.
>Tom probably has one since he’s the first officer.

>>1137047
>Corrigan might have one. She’s always mentioning new prototype weapons that you should buy.

>>1137047
>>Corrigan might have one. She’s always mentioning new prototype weapons that you should buy.

>>1137047
>>Corrigan might have one. She’s always mentioning new prototype weapons that you should buy.

File: 9f7.png (433 KB, 554x788)

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You grin a little bit. “You know, Corrigan probably has a computer.”

“What makes you say that?” Cynthia raises an eyebrow.

“Well she’s always up to date on new weapons tech,” you reply. “Is she awake yet?”

“I’m not sure,” Cynthia frowns. “You can always check.”

“Fair enough,” you nod. Then you and Samantha hand down the hallway to Corrigan’s stateroom. You knock on the door and hear some rustling on the other side, along with a quiet groan.

The door opens and Corrigan stands on the other side, squinting tiredly at you. “Good morning, Captain,” she yawns as politely as possible. You notice that her hair is sticking straight out on one side, and she’s wearing baggy pajamas.

“Morning,” you reply. “Do you have a computer we could use?”

She looks at you with a confused expression for a solid ten seconds, then rubs her eyes and nods. “Yes I do. Please give me a moment.” She closes the door and you hear more rustling on the other side, then she cracks the door enough to hand you a small laptop and a power cord. “Please be careful with it. This is was very expensive…” You hear another yawn as you gently take the laptop from her hand. Then, as soon as you take the laptop, you hear a loud thump as something hits the floor.

“Thanks,” you nod. “Are… Are you alright?”

You hear a noise halfway between a grunt and a yawn on the other side of the door. “I think I will just…” Corrigan says part of a sentence then you hear the sound of light snoring coming from inside her room, near the floor right on the other side of the door. Cracking the door just a little bit, you see that she is laying right next to the door, curled up on her side as she snores.

>Leave her be.
>Wake her up.
>Carry her to her bunk. Sleeping on a metal floor is never pleasant.
>Write-in.

>>1137164
>>Carry her to her bunk. Sleeping on a metal floor is never pleasant.

>>1137164
>Carry her to her bunk. Sleeping on a metal floor is never pleasant.

>>1137164
>>Carry her to her bunk. Sleeping on a metal floor is never pleasant.

You sigh, opening the door the rest of the way and stepping into the stateroom quietly. Looking back, you gesture for Samantha to wait in the hall. Kneeling down, you pick Corrigan up as gently as possible. She stops snoring momentarily as you stand back up, instead making a small noise in her sleep.

Carefully, you move across the stateroom to her bunk, setting her down on the mattress. She rolls over, mumbling something quietly as you turn around and leave the room, turning the light off as you close the door and return to the hallway. Samantha looks at you with a curious expression as you pick up the laptop.

“What? Sleeping on a metal floor isn’t comfortable, trust me.” You frown slightly at her. “I happen to know from personal experience.”

She chuckles a bit. “You’re more like a dad than a captain,” she says as the two of you return to the wardroom.

“Maybe sometimes,” you concede. Sitting the laptop on the table, you plug it in and open it. The screen flickers to life and you gesture to the bag of flash drives. Samantha pulls them out, sitting them on the table.

You plug the first one in and open it, looking at its contents.

27 September, 2282

Left Venus with coordinates provided by E. Crew seems reliable enough, though I wonder whether they will rattle under pressure. T assures me that our vessel will be able to safely navigate the nebula. I wonder for the safety of the other ships in our convoy though.

Looking elsewhere on the drive, you see photos of a large starship, as well as photos of the captain and crew celebrating before their voyage. There is also a cargo manifesto and a crew roster, among other things. You frown, unplugging the first drive and inserting the second one.

“Looks like excerpts from the ship’s log and a few other pieces of information…” You rub the back of your neck. Opening the second drive, you see another text file and open it.

18 October, 2282

Upon entering nebula, we lost one of our vessels outright. No sign of survivors. We continue to push on, though we have detected strange radio signals. I am beginning to wonder whether E’s coordinates are reliable.

There are some more photos, this time of the captain on the bridge of his vessel, as well as some candid photos of life aboard the ship. Other than that, the drive is empty.

“That’s odd,” Samantha speaks up. “Ship’s logs aren’t compiled like this, nor are they saved on flash-drives…” She looks at you with a confused expression.

>”Maybe they compiled this for research purposes.”
>”It looks like evidence from a criminal investigation…”
>”We’ll find out eventually. Let’s just keep looking.” (move on to the next flash drives)
>Write-in.

>>1137312
>>>”It looks like evidence from a criminal investigation…”
>>”We’ll find out eventually. Let’s just keep looking.” (move on to the next flash drives)

>>1137312
>>”We’ll find out eventually. Let’s just keep looking.” (move on to the next flash drives)

>>1137312
>>”It looks like evidence from a criminal investigation…”

Going to run some errands. I'll be back in a couple hours.

>>1137312
>>”It looks like evidence from a criminal investigation…”

>>1137312

>”Maybe they compiled this for research purposes.”

caught up.

File: Space horror.jpg (296 KB, 1920x818)

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You frown, rubbing your chin thoughtfully. “It almost looks like… Like it was compiled as evidence for a criminal investigation.” You pick up the next flash drive and plug it in with a grimace. “Either way, we won’t be sure unless we keep looking.”

The next flash drive contains another text file, though this one has two log entries on it.

1 November, 2282

Lost the other vessel accompanying us. No signs of them whatsoever. No distress call sent. It is almost as though they disappeared entirely. The men are on-edge, as I would expect them to be. We’ve been getting strange radio signals for a while now on the long-range receiver. Unable to determine the point of origin. T was admitted to the infirmary last night after being attacked by a crewman who had gone insane. I am beginning to fear that this voyage was a mistake. However, we press on.

The next entry seems to be coded, and it takes almost ten minutes for you and Samantha to decode it.

–UNDATED-

He has come for us. The one who grasps the sun in his hands. Crew are either dead or dying. He speaks to me. Eyes like mirrors, teeth like candle wax. He sees us all and sends us to perdition. My skin feels like molten lead, my hair feels like copper wire. Pins and needles are inside of me. I reach out, grasping. Grasping at nothing. The Red Eon approaches.

I die.

You swallow nervously as you read the passage in front of you. Keeping the text file open, you switch to another window to open the other text file.

18 August, 2286

Discovered derelict vessel along the route given to us by the Recon Corps. No crew to be found. Ship’s log indicates that the crew went mad from radiation exposure and vented themselves out through the airlock. Thankfully our vessel is shielded from such elements. Our orders have not changed, and we continue pressing toward our target. Report sent to HQ earlier this morning, investigation into this ‘E’ character recommended.

There are some photos of another ship and crew from various points of the voyage, as well as a crew dossier with different names. Eventually, you find a photo of a desert planet revolving around binary suns, with the brightness of a nebula in the background.

“This nebula look familiar to you?” You point the photo out to Samantha, who still appears to be shaken up by the logs.

“No,” she finally replies. “It’s probably a smaller part of the Eagle Nebula. Might be uncharted entirely.” She then looks at you with wide eyes. “What the hell was that second-to-last long entry about?”

>”Nothing good.”
>”I wouldn’t worry about it.”
>”It’s probably what the last one said. Crew went mad from radiation and offed themselves.”
>”Maybe they discovered something they shouldn’t have.”
>Write-in.

>>1138143
>”Maybe they discovered something they shouldn’t have.”
Lets not go there.

>>1138143
>>”Maybe they discovered something they shouldn’t have.”
>”Nothing good.”

>>1138143
>>”Maybe they discovered something they shouldn’t have.”

>>1138143
>”Nothing good.”
our ship is well shielded from radiation right?

>>1138166
agreed.

>>1138166
>Lets not go there.
Why not Anon?

>our ship is well shielded from radiation right?
It adheres industry regulations.

>>1138279
>It adheres industry regulations.
On the to-do list: weld on greater armor.

>>1138279
Because there is a bureaucracy monster that makes people go so insane they write in the ships log even as they are dying.

File: Solfrid2.jpg (27 KB, 225x350)

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You grimace, looking back at the screen. “Maybe they discovered something they shouldn’t have…”

“Something they shouldn’t have?” Her eyes go wide. “Like what?”

You shrug. “Something that drove them to write that,” you reply as you point to the frightening log entry.

“So how did any of this even get back to civilized space?” She crosses her arms.

“Looks like the Survey Corps found what was left of the initial expedition. Maybe they decided to keep going?” You frown. “It would explain the Survey Corps coordinate card.”

She nods. “Still, something like that would’ve caused a big stir in the media, don’t you think?”

“Not if they kept it hidden,” you reply bluntly. “Maybe they covered it up with the intention of preventing any public backlash against exploring far space.” You lean back. “Remember way back in the late 21st Century when that government research ship went missing near Neptune and it almost killed colonization efforts entirely?”

“I heard about that, yeah.” She nods, a serious expression on her face. “You think it was just radiation, or something else?”

You frown, not wanting to think about what else it could be. “I hope it was just radiation.”

“Hey Captain, Sam,” a voice make the two of you jump a little. Turning around, you see Solfrid standing in the hallway behind you. “What’cha talking about?” She looks to have just woken up, wearing pajama pants and a large shirt with what looks like a flaming cannonball on it.

>”Spooky deep-space mysteries.” (joke)
>”I’m glad you showed up. I’ve got something to show you.” (show her the mysterious gun)
>”We were looking over some flash-drives from a Survey Corps expedition.” (show her the flash drives’ contents)
>”Just some stuff I found on New Albany.” (vague)
>”Don’t sneak up on people like that.”
>Write-in.

>>1138443
>>”We were looking over some flash-drives from a Survey Corps expedition.” (show her the flash drives’ contents)

>>1138443
>>”Spooky deep-space mysteries.” (joke)
>”We were looking over some flash-drives from a Survey Corps expedition.” (show her the flash drives’ contents)

>>1138443
>”Spooky deep-space mysteries.” (joke)
say it with a funny voice.

>>1138443
>”Spooky deep-space mysteries.” (joke)
>”We were looking over some flash-drives from a Survey Corps expedition.” (show her the flash drives’ contents)

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

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“Spooky deep-space mysteries,” you joke. “Old logs from a Survey Corps expedition. Take a look.” You scoot over, motioning for her to look at the screen.

Her eyes dart along the various text logs, her expression growing grim as she reaches the last two. “The Red Eon?”

“Does it sound familiar?” You raise an eyebrow.

She shakes her head. “Not to me. I figured it was a human thing.” She frowns. “This is some pretty dark stuff. It almost sounds like… No, it couldn’t be…” Her eyes widen. “It almost sounds like what the Sjeltyver…”

“Beg your pardon?” Samantha speaks up, just as curious as you are.

“I believe the closest translation in your language would be something like ‘soul thieves’, but the direct translation is more like ‘ones who take life’.” She grimaces. “They’re an old legend among the Worldfleet. Like the boogeyman for you humans.” She gestures with her hands as she speaks, trying to covey the concept that she’s talking about. “Basically the Sjeltyver are like… Wild animals that live in the vacuum of space. They cause crews to go mad, then they eat them.”

“B-but they’re just legends, right?” Samantha crosses her arms defensively.

“As far as anyone knows,” Solfrid nods. “But… Only about fifty percent of the galaxy has ever been explored by all of the known sentient species.” She grimaces. “Still, even if they’re real, I’d doubt that they’re like the ones in the stories.”

You feel a little chill go up your spine. “So they’re from old legends,” you begin. “What makes you think this sounds similar to those legends?”

“They mentioned ‘eyes like mirrors’…” She rubs her chin inquisitively. “The legends describe their eyes as being totally reflective so that they don’t get blinded by stars. Still, I’ve never believed in those old space stories… They’re in the same bracket as epics about fire-breathing, fifth foot-tall green men with swords made of ice.” She sighs, rolling her eyes a little. “I’d say that if the ancients actually saw any of it, they embellished it heavily.”

>”These flash drives weren’t all we found…” (have Solfrid look at the crystal and mysterious gun)
>”What’s the Worldfleet?”
>”Is that… An old Ordinance Corps insignia?” (inquire about the symbol on her shirt)
>Write-in.

>>1138788
>fifth foot-tall green men with swords made of ice
That's supposed to be "fifty foot-tall men with swords made of ice"

>>1138788
>”These flash drives weren’t all we found…” (have Solfrid look at the crystal and mysterious gun)
If we can do both
>”Is that… An old Ordinance Corps insignia?” (inquire about the symbol on her shirt)

>>1138788
>>”These flash drives weren’t all we found…” (have Solfrid look at the crystal and mysterious gun)

>”Is that… An old Ordinance Corps insignia?” (inquire about the symbol on her shirt)

>>1138788
>>”These flash drives weren’t all we found…” (have Solfrid look at the crystal and mysterious gun)

>>1138788
>”These flash drives weren’t all we found…” (have Solfrid look at the crystal and mysterious gun)

File: It's this only printed on(...).jpg (59 KB, 640x480)

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“The flash-drives aren’t all we found,” you begin. “There was a whole box of artifacts. Let me show you.” You stand up and motion for her to wait while you get the box. However, something strikes your attention. “Also, is that an old Ordinance Corps logo on your shirt?”

She raises an eyebrow at you, then looks down at her shirt. “Oh, this? I’m not sure what it’s from. I bought this at a secondhand store on New Brazil.” She grabs the fabric and stretches it, looking more closely at the image. Interestingly enough, you realize that it isn’t an Ordinance Corps insignia at all. It’s a stylized flaming cannonball with the letters ‘RF’ on it. You’re sure you’ve seen the symbol before, but you don’t know where.

Shrugging, you head upstairs and retrieve the box, bringing it back down. Setting it on the table, you produce its contents, as well as the mysterious gun. The first thing she notices is the sample of crystal.

“That’s… Interesting.” She frowns as she picks it up. “What is this supposed to be?”

“I think it might be a seeker crystal,” you postulate. “It’s the same stuff that the handle of this gun is made from, and when I put the battery in it, the handle pulses a little bit.” You hand the gun to her and she gasps upon gripping the handle.

“I can see what you mean.” Solfrid nods as she sits the gun down, again picking up the raw crystal. “But… There’s no way this is a seeker crystal. They don’t form in round shapes like this, and the only thing that can cut them is plasma as hot as a star. You’d see marks from where it was cut if that was the case.” She holds it up to the light, bringing it close to her eye. “And seeker crystals aren’t this clear… The purest one I’ve ever seen still looked… Cloudy.”

“Then what do you think it is?” You cross your arms.

Solfrid frowns, looking at the crystal and the gun again. “I’m not sure… And since the only experts on crystals are shamans and velkiri, we’d have to take it to one of them to learn more.” She shrugs, handing you the artifact and gun. “We could always look one up if we ever make a stop at Wind-Born.”

>”Velkiri? Who are they?”
>”Is Wind-Born your home planet?”
>”If your shamans are like that Wulfrig guy, I’ll probably get in trouble.”
>Write-in.

>>1139083
>”Velkiri? Who are they?”
>”Is Wind-Born your home planet?”
Doesn't that symbol have something to do with the French Marines? Or the Foreign Legion, I can't remember which.

>>1139083
>”If your shamans are like that Wulfrig guy, I’ll probably get in trouble.”

File: Spoiler Image (621 KB, 1247x916)

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>>1139096
It was the symbol on the helmets the French infantry wore in WWI.

>>1139083
>>”Is Wind-Born your home planet?”

>>1139083
>”Velkiri? Who are they?”
>”Is Wind-Born your home planet?”

>>1139083
>”Velkiri? Who are they?”
>”Is Wind-Born your home planet?”

File: Solfrid3.jpg (318 KB, 1080x1920)

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“Is Wind-Born your home planet?” You raise an eyebrow.

Solfrid shakes her head. “It’s my home, but it’s not a planet. Wind-Born is one of the six world ships that the Psirinean people have. It’s part of the Worldfleet.”

“Your people live aboard starships?” Samantha looks intrigued at the prospect of it.

“Not all of us,” she admits. “About half of our population lives aboard the Worldfleet. The other half lives on Sondholm, our peoples’ ancestral home.” She crosses her arms. “We used to have many planets under our control, but there was a big war about ten thousand years ago, and we lost all but one of them.” She frowns. “At least, I think it was ten thousand years ago… We measure our time in cycles, and it was six cycles ago. I’m pretty sure that translates to just over ten thousand years.”

“Whoa,” Samantha replies.

You nod slightly, remembering when Solfrid mentioned world ships before. “So who are the Velkiri?”

She frowns momentarily, seemingly losing her train of thought. “They’re… Like engineers. They work on the Grand Reactors of the world ships.” She snaps her fingers, seemingly remembering what she was wanting to say. “But it’s hereditary, like a caste system. Those who are born as Velkiri, live their entire lives working in the reactors. They’re the only ones besides the shamans who normally have extended contact with seeker crystals.”

“Why is that?” You raise an eyebrow. Engineers aren’t exactly similar to shamans, at least to the best of your knowledge.

Solfrid shrugs. “I don’t know for sure. It’s just what I’ve heard. Maybe they have some kind of connection to the crystals that nobody else knows about.”

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I think I'm gonna call the thread here. I planned to at least finish our voyage to Thalos in this thread, but time constraints are preventing that. Instead, we'll pick up at this same spot in the conversation on Thursday, then work through the rest of the voyage and hopefully have some alien space wizard politics taking up the bulk of the next thread.

>>1139374
Thanks for running Zap.

>>1139374
Thanks for running!

New thread:
>>1146416
>>1146416
>>1146416