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You grimace as the commander of the CFP inspection team paces in front of you, eying all of your crew and passengers. As soon as he had arrived aboard your vessel, he had ordered everyone on the ship to line up in the wardroom. With your crew and passengers, combined with the inspection team, occupying the wardroom, it has become somewhat cramped.

You grimace as the commander passes you, glaring toward you the entire time. He is someone you recognize, having been one of the few marines who served alongside the army’s garrison under Major Castro. He stops right in front of you, raising an eyebrow. “I must say, Starwind…” He smirks, the massive scars on his face warping to accommodate the almost unnatural expression. He is not a man who looks natural with a smile. “I never expected to run into you again.”

“Me either, Jensen.” You frown. “Never figured you’d end up working for the CFP.” You glance over at his men, one of whom looks apprehensively at you, then back to his commander.

“That’s Master Sergeant Jensen,” he replies with a grunt.

“Master sergeant?” You almost smirk. “I thought you were an officer back in the Marines. Why the switch to enlisted?”

“Too much paperwork,” he lies. Of course, you know why the CFP wouldn’t make a man like him an officer, not with a reputation like his. The man has a damn mausoleum in his closet. “Do you have any idea why I stopped you, Starwind?”

“No sir,” you reply.

He nods, stepping back as he chuckles a little bit to himself. “Right, right…” He then crosses his arms, hand brushing the rifle slung under his shoulder. You fight the urge to flinch, knowing that he doesn’t have the safety on. “We’ve got a report that a dangerous fugitive may be leaving Mars on their way to Earth.” He raises an eyebrow. “We’ve been running random inspections in conjunction with the Federal Navy’s security forces on Earth. We inspect the ones leaving, and they inspect the ones arriving that we didn’t get.” He raises an eyebrow. “And this ship really caught my eye, seeing how popular these Oberons are for smugglers and criminals.” He takes a step toward you, leaning close toward your face. You notice that he smells faintly of gunpowder and oil. “Tell me, Captain, do you have anything to declare?”

“No,” you reply. “Nothing to declare.”

He nods, not stepping back. “Good. As you might imagine, I already know you’re heading to Earth. Planning on enjoying the Fleet Week festivities?”

>”No sir. Just passing through.”
>”Is that any of your business?”
>”Yeah.”
>”I might. Not sure yet.”
>Write-in.

>>1368911
>>”I might. Not sure yet.”
>."Lot of Good and bad memories, not sure I want to deal with them yet."

>>1368911
>Write-in.

Hadn't thought much about it. Too busy with work.

Quick question - does our Alienbro give us diplomatic immunity?

>>1368930
Allen hasn't asked yet, so he's not completely sure.

>>1368911
>>”I might. Not sure yet.”

>>1368911
>>”I might. Not sure yet.”

>>1368930
I second this option

“I might,” you shrug. “Not really sure yet.”

Jensen nods. “Right… Say, you don’t mind if I have a look at your rosters and manifests, right?”

“Go ahead,” you reply. “They’re on the bridge. In the lockbox.”

Jensen leads you up to the bridge, where you give him the necessary paperwork. Walking back down to the wardroom, you return to your spot in line while he thumbs through the crew and passenger rosters.” Finally, he looks up at Samantha.

“You have a name, miss?”

“Y-yes,” Samantha takes a step back instinctively. “I’m Samantha Brooks…”

You glance over at Tom, who gives you a worried look. However, your attention is again directed to Jensen, who begins chuckling. “Well, well, well,” he begins. “There’s no mention of a Samantha Brooks on either roster.” He then looks over at you. “You’ve got a stowaway, captain.”

You frown, though Tom speaks up for you. “Must’ve been an error in paperwork. She’s a new hire. Well, more like an intern, but you get the idea.”

Jensen nods. “Right, an intern. Well, that’s not all that uncommon, I suppose.” He then walks up to Samantha and grabs her wrist, eliciting a small yelp from the scared girl as he rolls her sleeve up. Then he grabs her collar and looks at the back of her neck. “Alright. Just had to make sure you weren’t a slave or something.” He looks back at his men as he walks away from her. “Let’s go, people. We’ve got more ships to stop today.”

However, as he walk past your passengers, he glances over and stops. You see Tillman flinch and take a step back as Jensen frowns.

“Hold up. We aren’t done here.” Walking over, he glares at Roy Tillman, who shrinks back meekly.

You grimace as Jensen crosses his arms, inspecting your passenger. “Is there something wrong, Master Sergeant?” He manages a sentence, though obviously terrified.

“Nothing much,” Jensen frowns. “I’m guessin’ you’re Roy Tillman, right?” You notice his face twitch as he says the name. “Captain, I’m going to need access to your ship’s storage room. I have some questions to ask this man.”

>”My passenger doesn’t have to answer any questions from you. Now if you’re going to continue harassing me and my people. I’d like to see a warrant.”
>”Okay, but I get to oversee it.”
>”Okay.”
>Write-in.

>>1369249
>>”My passenger doesn’t have to answer any questions from you. Now if you’re going to continue harassing me and my people. I’d like to see a warrant.”

>>1369249
>>”Okay, but I get to oversee it.”
>not letting you do anything to besmirch my name or reputation.

>>1369249
>”My passenger doesn’t have to answer any questions from you. Now if you’re going to continue harassing me and my people. I’d like to see a warrant.”
I don't actually know space law, so I'm mostly hoping he doesn't actually have to answer any of his questions.

>>1369249
>”Okay, but I get to oversee it.”

>>1369434
>>1369249
With the caveat that Roy Tillman agrees.

>>1369434
I already had the write-up done by the time you posted. Sorry.

You step forward, walking toward Jensen. “That’s not going to happen.” He raises an eyebrow as you put your hands on your hips, frowning. “He doesn’t have to answer any questions from you. Now if you’re going to keep harassing my passengers and crew, I’d like to see a warrant.”

Jensen is taken aback by your demeanor. “A warrant? I…” He shakes his head, looking back at his men. “Whatever. Let’s go, men. We’ve wasted enough time with these people. They aren’t who we’re looking for.” He looks back at you bitterly as he leads his men back toward the airlock. “You have a safe trip to Earth, Starwind.”

With that, you look around at your crew. Tom nods, then heads up to the bridge. As he passes you, he speaks up. “Sir, I’ll go ahead and get us on a sublight burn.” You nod in affirmation. The rest of the crew begin talking amongst each other. Claudia shoots you a small smile and quirks her eyebrow before walking back toward her quarters, while Tillman breathes a sigh of relief.

“Allen,” Cynthia walks up to you. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” you reply. “Just a little surprised to have seen that guy commanding CFP marines.”

“You knew him?” She raises an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” you reply. “Remember Castro? Well, Jensen served at the same base. We… Didn’t exactly see eye-to-eye.” You rub the back of your neck to ward off the cold chills threatening to run down it.

“Did he always have those scary-looking scars?” She frowns. You are about to answer, but the sound of Jensen’s ship undocking from yours cuts you off. Waiting for the noise to subside, you turn to Cynthia to continue.

“No he didn’t.” You point to the side of your face for emphasis. “Artillery shrapnel nearly took his face off on Pallus. His whole team got taken out by it though, so there’s no way of knowing what really happened.” You grimace. “Seems like that happened a lot to Jensen, teams dying with no witnesses, I mean.”

She looks shocked. “You mean he might’ve killed his own men?”

Shrugging, you look away. “That’s one rumor I heard a lot. He never seemed to feel anything when his team got wiped out, so it sort of made sense…” You shake your head. “I just tried not to think too much about it. Wasn’t any of my business, you know?”

“Right,” Cynthia nods. “So what are you going to do now?” You cross your arms thoughtfully as the ship shudders from the sublight drive being activated.

>”May as well head up to the bridge.”
>”I think I’ll hang around the wardroom for a bit and get some food.”
>”I think I’ll visit…” (specify crew member/passenger)
>Write-in.

>>1369495
>>”May as well head up to the bridge.”

>>1369495
>”May as well head up to the bridge.”

>>1369495
>>”I think I’ll hang around the wardroom for a bit and get some food.”

>>1369495
>>”May as well head up to the bridge.”

My apologies for the lack of updates tonight. It looks like my car is having issues again, so I'll probably spend most of the evening fixing it. I might have time to post another update tonight, but if not, we'll run tomorrow at the usual time.

>>1369925
So are Tillman and Jensen the same?

>>1370165
Beg your pardon?

>>1370515
Like are they manufactured humans made for war? It'd make sense that Jensen was never bothered by having his squad of clones wiped.

>>1370562
Ah, okay I get what you mean now. As far as anyone (including Allen) knows, Jensen is just a next-level sociopath. There are plenty of rumors about the guy though. As far as Tillman goes, he's weird and seemingly antisocial, but Allen hasn't seen him do anything exceptionally strange.

>>1370579
Except the shaving.

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You stretch tiredly. “May as well head up to the bridge.”

Cynthia nods. “Right. I’ll be down in engineering for a while to make sure everything’s holding up. I’ll give you a call if anything happens down there.”

“Good to know,” you reply. With that, you both go your separate ways. Heading up to the bridge, you see Tom leaning back in the pilot’s seat, casually thumbing through a comic book.

“Hey Captain,” he greets you without looking up from the book as you sit down in your seat. “That inspection certainly was nerve-racking…”

“Agreed,” you sigh. “I knew their commander back during the War. He was always like that.”

“A psycho?” Tom looks up from his book with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah,” you reply. “From what I heard, he fragged a lot of his own men.” You grimace. “Those were just stories, but still… Might be some truth to them.”

Tom nods, looking back at his book. “Seemed like they were looking for someone specific. Think they’re hunting a fugitive or something?”

“It’s possible.” Shaking your head, you pull out your communicator and scroll through it absently. “He seemed to have some business with Tillman, though it might’ve just been because he looks like a weirdo.” You notice a new text message from Sergeant Hendricks mentioning that they’ve been called back to the garrison on Venus. She mentions that they’re taking Dr. Kowalski with them.

However, when you look up, you see Tom looking back at you. “Sir, it’s possible that Tillman matched whatever they were looking for. And he’s not exactly a common-looking guy…” He frowns, sitting his comic on the dash. “I know it’s none of our business what our passengers intend to do once they disembark, but I don’t want to be responsible for letting some sort of terrorist walk free either.”

“So you want me to lock him in the storage room and call the authorities?” You cross your arms. “We’re not in the business of law enforcement, Tom.”

“I get that,” he replies defensively. “I’m not saying you have to lock him up or interrogate him or anything… Just, you know, maybe talk to him and try to get a vibe of whether he’s telling the whole truth or not.”

>”It’s none of our business.” (refuse)
>”I’ll go talk to him.” (agree)
>”Terrorist is a pretty subjective word these days. For all we know, he might just be the target of some governmental witch hunt.”
>Write-in.

>>1371800
>>”Terrorist is a pretty subjective word these days. For all we know, he might just be the target of some governmental witch hunt.”

>>1371800
>>”I’ll go talk to him.” (agree)

>>1371800
>”I’ll go talk to him.” (agree)

>>1371800

>”I’ll go talk to him.” (agree)

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You nod, standing up. “I’ll go talk to him.” With little else to say, you walk off of the bridge and head downstairs to look for your rather strange passenger. It figures that he wouldn’t be in the wardroom, and when you run into Virgo, he tells you that he saw Tillman head downstairs, likely to the passenger cabins.

You make your way down to the passenger staterooms and knock on Roy’s door, getting no response. After a couple minutes, you knock again. This time, the door is wrenched open between knocks, and you see Tillman standing on the other side. The suddenness of it shocks you a little, and Tillman seems a bit confused when you don’t immediately speak. “Hello, Captain.” He smiles at you.

“Afternoon, Mr. Tillman,” you begin. “I just came by to see how you were doing after that inspection.”

He nods thankfully. “Of course, Captain. And thank you for not making be go with that dreadful man.”

“Right,” you reply. “He certainly wasn’t pleasant…” You trail off, looking for the right words. “And I’m not going to let some guy interrogate my passengers regardless. It’s not like you did anything wrong.”

However, you notice Tillman make an interesting expression at that. It is just enough for you to recognize, then it’s gone. He merely nods after that. “Say, Captain. Would you join me for a moment in my stateroom?”

You feel a cold chill run up your spine. However, your fear is countered by the fact that you’ve got your service pistol on you, so it’s not like he could do any harm to you. “Sure. I’ve got a few minutes.”

The two of you enter and you see that nothing has been touched. It doesn’t look like a room that has been occupied for two weeks. His luggage sits on the bed, which is still made, and everything is frighteningly clean and dust-free. He motions to the small table in the corner of the room. “Please, sir, have a seat.” You do, sitting down across from him. He leans back in his chair, crossing his legs and resting his hand atop his knee.

“So is there any reason you wanted to speak with me here?” You frown as you break the awkward silence.

Tillman nods slowly, not breaking eye-contact. “Indeed. I suppose you probably have some questions to ask me. Well seeing as we’re about to arrive on Earth, I may as well oblige you with some answers.”

>”Why do you think the CFP commander wanted to interrogate you?”
>”I suppose you’re not just a land surveyor?” (roll a 1d100)
>”This room is awfully clean. Almost doesn’t look like it’s been used at all.”
>”Why exactly didn’t you want to be let off on Mars?”
>Write-in.

>>1372196
>>”Why do you think the CFP commander wanted to interrogate you?”

Rolled 40 (1d100)

>>1372196
>>”I suppose you’re not just a land surveyor?” (roll a 1d100)
>>”This room is awfully clean. Almost doesn’t look like it’s been used at all.”

Rolled 56 (1d100)

>>1372196
>>”I suppose you’re not just a land surveyor?” (roll a 1d100)
>”Why do you think the CFP commander wanted to interrogate you?”

Rolled 75 (1d100)

>>1372196
>”Why do you think the CFP commander wanted to interrogate you?”
>”I suppose you’re not just a land surveyor?” (roll a 1d100)

>>1372196
> why didn't you want to be let off on Mars?
I'm betting on Paul finding the stowaway.

Taking a break to get some dinner. Be back in a bit.

Rolled 38 (1d100)

>>1372196
>”I suppose you’re not just a land surveyor?” (roll a 1d100)
>”Why do you think the CFP commander wanted to interrogate you?”

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You sigh, thinking of the proper place to begin. “Why do you think the CFP commander wanted to interrogate you?”

Tillman rubs his chin thoughtfully. “You know, Captain, that’s a good question actually. Perhaps I just look strange, and that singled me out as someone worth interrogating.” He shrugs. “Though, I suppose if they’re working with the Federal Navy, it’s possible that those guys are looking for someone who matches my physical description.” He grimaces. “Though, I’m not exactly the most common-looking person, so there probably aren’t too many potential cases of false accusation. Last I checked, I wasn’t wanted by the Feds though.”

You nod. “I see. You’re acting a lot less scatter-brained than before. I assume that was an act?”

Tillman looks a little bit offended. “Not necessarily an act,” he begins. “More of me being exceedingly polite so that I could find a ship to get me off of Thalos and back to Earth.” He grins a little. “Though I suppose when someone acts too polite, it comes across as a little dopey.” He then sighs, leaning forward. “It certainly worked though, didn’t it?”

You frown. “You’re a lot sharper than you let on, Mr. Tillman. I assume you’re not just a land surveyor?”

He chuckles darkly, and for a second, his eyes take on an exceptionally cruel quality to them. The man in front of you seems to transform entirely. Gone is the meek land surveyor, instead you see what can only be described with one word. He looks dangerous. “You got me…” He rubs his eyes, the dangerous quality in them subsiding as quickly as it seemed to bubble up. “Don’t get me wrong, I am a land surveyor. It’s just more of a side-gig compared to my real job.”

“And what’s your real job?” You cross your arms, your right hand secretly resting over the handle of your sidearm.

“Captain Starwind, I can tell you’re a decent guy…” He looks at you with an expression bordering between frustration and… guilt? “Trust me, you don’t want to know what else I do for a living…”

You frown, not moving a muscle. “I see…” It doesn’t take a genius to get what he’s implying, at least. You decide to not pursue the topic much further.

“I must admit though,” he says simply. “I was surprised you didn’t call me out on my deception earlier. I could tell that you knew something was up.”

>”Are my crew in danger from you being here?”
>”You better be paying well for this.”
>”So why didn’t you want to be let off on Mars?”
>Write-in.

>>1373071
>”Are my crew in danger from you being here?”
Don't want to get someone else angry at us for our ignorance like HK is.

>>1373071
>>”Are my crew in danger from you being here?”
>If not, not my business. You booked transport legally according to the local statutes. I'd tell the authorities that.
Although I would like to know
>"why didn’t you want to be let off on Mars?”

>>1373071
>>”Are my crew in danger from you being here?”

>>1373071
>”Are my crew in danger from you being here?”
>”So why didn’t you want to be let off on Mars?”

“So why didn’t you want to be let off on Mars?” You lean forward, resting your chin on your fist.

“Work-related stuff,” he replies simply. “Let’s just leave it at that.”

“Alright,” you nod. “My crew aren’t in danger from you being here, right?”

Tillman shakes his head. “They shouldn’t be. The only people who I could call my enemies are in places far away.” He shrugs. “Assuming they even know I’m alive, that is.”

You sigh to yourself. “Good. That clears up most of my worries.”

Tillman chuckles as he leans back. “It’s not something you ever would’ve needed to worry about, Captain. I make sure that the people who help me out aren’t going to suffer because of it. It’s one of the few rules I live by.”

You nod. “A good rule.”

However, before you can say more, you hear the sound of a communicator ringing. Tillman reaches into his pocket and pulls out an incredibly-expensive looking model, looking at the screen. He then looks up at you worriedly. “Captain, will you excuse me?”

You nod and leave the stateroom, though as soon as you hear the door close, you realize that it is far too thin to muffle the sound of Tillman’s conversation. If you were to press your ear to the door, you could probably hear everything.

>Eavesdrop. (roll a 1d100)
>Leave. This isn’t any of your business.

>>1373304
>Leave. This isn’t any of your business.

>>1373304
>Leave. This isn’t any of your business.
Well if we want to eavesdrop there are better ways and better reasons. More importantly I'm satisfied enough by the convo that I feel its best not to stick our neck out too far.

>>1373304
>>Leave. This isn’t any of your business.

>>1373304
>Leave. This isn’t any of your business.

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You decide to leave, seeing as his conversation isn’t really any of your business. You ascend the stairs leading back to the wardroom, and when you reach the top of the stairwell, you see a familiar face.

“Captain,” Claudia greets you with a coy smile as she leans against the bulkhead.

“Miss Claudia,” you reply. “Something I can help you with?”

She chuckles lightly to herself, looking away. “Not at the moment, no. I was just so cooped up in that stateroom. I wanted to get out and stretch my legs a bit.”

You raise an eyebrow. “I seem to remember you saying how luxurious the stateroom was…”

She shrugs, grinning sheepishly. “Perhaps I’ve become a little bit spoiled since the last time I did any major traveling aboard a starship. Wide open spaces will do that to you.” She then leans forward. “Though, some people seem to prefer a starship to a planetside existence.”

“That’s true,” you say flatly. “I’ve met plenty of people who weren’t comfortable spending too much time on planets.”

She nods. “Indeed. Sometimes those kind of places bring back unpleasant memories…” She shakes her head. “But that’s not anything worth talking about right now… I saw the way you talked to that CFP commander. Were you two acquainted at some point?”

“We were posted to the same base years ago,” you reply flatly. “But that’s about it. Heard some rumors about the guy, but it’s none of my business to go repeating it to a passenger.” You shrug. “Now if you don’t mind, I’m going to make myself something to eat.” You walk past her and into the wardroom, heading over to the kitchen. As you open the refrigerator, you look over to see Claudia resting her elbows on the serving window, looking in at you with a smirk.

“Could you make me something? I’m famished.” She raises an eyebrow.

>”Sure.”
>”You can wait until the next crew meal. I’m just getting a snack anyway.”
>Write-in.

>>1373619
>”Sure. If you're brave enough to try my cooking who am I to refuse.”

>>1373619
>Write-in.

I can get you a snack, that's all I was picking up until the next crew meal.

>>1373619
>>1373639
this

>>1373619
>”Sure.”
Make her a mount everest special.

>>1373619
>>”Sure. If you're brave enough to try my cooking who am I to refuse.”

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You shrug. “Sure, as long as you don’t mind my cooking. Want anything specific?”

“Whatever you’re having” Claudia smiles warmly as you root around in the fridge.

“Alright then. Grilled cheese it is.” You pull the cheese from the fridge and get the bread from the cupboard, then find a pan and begin making the food. You notice after a few minutes that Claudia hasn’t left the serving window yet. “Food’s going to take a few minutes, you can have a seat if you like.”

“I think I’ll wait here,” she replies. “I enjoy watching people cook for me.” She chuckles, and you find yourself stifling a chuckle of your own.

“Fair enough,” you reply. “So I was told you’re an infiltration specialist. What exactly does that sort of work entail?”

Claudia raises an eyebrow at you. “Well it entails whatever it needs to. I’m good at a lot of things really.” She looks absently into the kitchen, at nowhere in particular. “In another life, I could’ve been a spy.”

“Isn’t that technically what you are?” You finish the first grilled cheese, removing it from the skillet and cutting it in half before putting the second one down.

“I mean a real spy,” she corrects you. “For governments and the like. You know, traveling all over the place, meeting exotic people…”

“And killing them?” You raise an eyebrow, smirking a little bit. “I doubt being a secret agent is all it’s cracked up to be. And I’ll bet you don’t see a lot of retired ones either. Doesn’t sound like an appealing line of work to me.”

She nods. “Maybe. Still, you don’t see a lot of retired gangsters either. That’s basically what I am.” She shrugs. “Though, I suppose I can understand why most government jobs might not be appealing to a man like yourself…” You hear her sigh.

>”There was a cryptic message hidden in the code on my navigation computer. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?” (roll a 1d100)
>”You mentioned that our first meeting wasn’t in the Olympia Club. I thought you were a little bit familiar… Where exactly have we met before?” (roll a 1d100)
>”So what other kinds of work do you do? Are you primarily employed with Lowe?”
>”What’s the plan when we get to Ganymede? Will you need any fire support?”
>Write-in.

Rolled 29 (1d100)

>>1374065
>”You mentioned that our first meeting wasn’t in the Olympia Club. I thought you were a little bit familiar… Where exactly have we met before?” (roll a 1d100)

Rolled 76 (1d100)

>>1374065
>”You mentioned that our first meeting wasn’t in the Olympia Club. I thought you were a little bit familiar… Where exactly have we met before?” (roll a 1d100)

Well, since we have yet to get our third roll, I'm going to call it here for tonight. We'll run tomorrow at around the same time.

>>1374318
Dammit, I'm guessing 76 isn't good enough then. Thanks for running and have a happy easter!

Rolled 34 (1d100)

>>1374065
>”You mentioned that our first meeting wasn’t in the Olympia Club. I thought you were a little bit familiar… Where exactly have we met before?” (roll a 1d100)

I'll save you anons

Rolled 7 (1d100)

>>1374318

File: 1489430102182.gif (1.05 MB, 451x331)

1.05 MB GIF

>>1374488
You didn't save them, Anon.

>>1374195
Thankfully a 76 is high enough to clear the DC just barely.

Writing now.

Rolled 2 (1d100)

>>1374065
>>”There was a cryptic message hidden in the code on my navigation computer. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?” (roll a 1d100)

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You frown, focusing on the stove as you work. “So you mentioned that our first meeting wasn’t in the Olympia Club…” You glance back at Claudia, seeing her raise an eyebrow at your statement. “I thought you seemed familiar. I still can’t pinpoint where we’ve met though.”

She chuckles lightly, but you can hear a kind of sadness in it. In fact, now that you think of it, everything this woman does has a far-off sadness to it. “Maybe this will jog your memory…” She starts humming, and you instantly recognize the tune.

Though you recognize the humming, it takes a moment for you to remember where it is from. Then it all comes back to you: the smell of antiseptic, the sound of the heart monitor, the white tile ceilings and overly-clean surfaces. The hospital cruiser Mercy, the place where you recuperated after Virgo contacted the Federal Navy, is fresh in your mind. You look back at her as you turn the heat off on the stove, putting the second grilled cheese on a plate. “You were aboard the Mercy…”

“Indeed I was,” she nods. “I shouldn’t have expected you to recognize me, I don’t look the way I used to.” She runs a hand through her hair and suddenly Claudia’s appearance becomes much more familiar. Her hair is styled differently, and she’s obviously grown up significantly since then, but her eyes are the same. “Claudia Owens,” she re-introduces herself. “Though, I don’t go by that last name anymore.”

You take a moment to really make sure that this woman is really the teenage nurse who basically forced you to stay alive on your way back to Earth. After staring for probably a good minute, you hand her the grilled cheese. “Uh… Here you go.”

“Thank you, Captain.” She nods almost sheepishly, taking the plate and walking over to the tables. You get your own plate and head over as well, sitting opposite her. You are still at a loss for words as the two of you begin eating. Finally, Claudia breaks the awkward silence between bites of her grilled cheese. “I certainly was surprised to see you walk into the Olympia Club that evening though. At first I didn’t recognize you either.” She points at you. “You were thin as a skeleton when I first met you.” She then raises an eyebrow. “It’s also good to see you quit smoking, or at least it looks like it anyway.”

>”So how did you end up going from being a nurse to being an agent of the mob?”
>”If Lowe was planning on betraying me after this job, would you know about it?”
>"So if you don't go by Owens anymore, what name do you use?"
>”Let’s talk strategy. How are we going to approach the job on Ganymede? Are you going to need fire support?”
>Write-in.

>>1376347
>>"So if you don't go by Owens anymore, what name do you use?"

>”So how did you end up going from being a nurse to being an agent of the mob?”

>>1376347
>"So if you don't go by Owens anymore, what name do you use?"
>”So how did you end up going from being a nurse to being an agent of the mob?”

>>1376347
>"So if you don't go by Owens anymore, what name do you use?"
>"And if its a fake one at least tell me you didn't use something tacky like smith."
I have a feeling she wouldn't appreciate us dragging up how she came to be in her present circumstance, and would either help us if things went south with Lowe or never breathe a word of it in the first place. We can bring up the job right when we're about to do it too, no need to talk work yet. Of course I could be way off so 'grain of salt and all that.

>>1376347
>>"So if you don't go by Owens anymore, what name do you use?"
>”So how did you end up going from being a nurse to being an agent of the mob?”

>>1376347
>"So if you don't go by Owens anymore, what name do you use?"
>”So how did you end up going from being a nurse to being an agent of the mob?”

“So if you don’t go by Owens anymore, what name do you use?” You take a bite of your sandwich, raising an eyebrow.

She leans back, grinning a little bit. “I go by a few different names, but usually I just go by my first name.” She then stretches tiredly. “Though I use the last name Winston for most business matters.”

You nod. “Fair enough. So how did you end up going from being a military nurse to being an agent of the mob?”

Claudia crosses her arms. “Well there was no shortage of work after the War, what with entire colonies in ruins… But I sort of got dragged into it really.” She looks away. “I didn’t realize how good I was at this kind of work until after I was already too far along to quit.”

“So you didn’t have much of a choice?” You rest your cheek on your hand, frowning.

She shakes her head. “For a while, I worked for some pretty dangerous people. The kind of folks who would kill someone for looking at them wrong…” She waves her hand almost dismissively. “Eventually, Lowe took over and became the most powerful crime boss on Mars, so naturally he sought me out when he heard about my skills.”

“Makes sense. He seems like the kind of person who snatches up whatever talent he can find to get an advantage.” You rub the back of your neck, remembering how he tried to threaten you during your meeting.

“I’m not one of his people,” she corrects you quickly. “I do a lot of work for him, but ultimately I’m freelance.” She smirks. “Not that a lot of other people can afford my services, though.”

“So you really don’t care that much what happens to him or his business,” you reply as you understand the implication.

“Not particularly. He’s reliable, but it seems like his mentality has started to change…” She raises an eyebrow at you. “It all started after you ended the upper-management of the Blue Diamond Syndicate. After that happened, he took over whatever assets they had left.” Claudia leans forward, making a steeple with her fingers as she speaks. “He’s getting more ruthless. More dangerous.”

>”Sounds about right for a crime lord. I don’t see what’s so unusual about it.”
>”Ruthless enough to betray me after this job is done?”
>”Do you think it might have something to do with his feud with Blackheart as well?”
>”I wasn’t aware that the Blue Diamond Syndicate had any assets left when they crumbled.”
>Write-in.

>>1376554
>”Ruthless enough to betray me after this job is done?”
>”Do you think it might have something to do with his feud with Blackheart as well?”

>>1376554
>>>”Ruthless enough to betray me after this job is done?”
>>”Do you think it might have something to do with his feud with Blackheart as well?”

>>1376554
>”Ruthless enough to betray me after this job is done?”
>”Do you think it might have something to do with his feud with Blackheart as well?”

>>1376554
>>”I wasn’t aware that the Blue Diamond Syndicate had any assets left when they crumbled.”

“Ruthless enough to betray me after this job is done?” You grimace as you speak.

Claudia’s expression doesn’t change. “It would surprise me if it hadn’t crossed his mind.” She finishes her grilled cheese, taking a moment before continuing. “But that doesn’t mean he’ll go through with it. I didn’t drag you through four months of physical rehab to let my boss kill you off over some turf war. He knows I’d put a stop to it.”

You raise an eyebrow, taken aback by her statement. “Thanks, I think.”

“No need to thank me,” she then says with a chuckle. “Like I said, it took a lot of work to keep you alive, and most of it fell on me.” She sighs. “Still, it’s fortunate that you showed up when you did, especially with what happened on Ganymede. Lowe had plans for you long before that happened. When he found out about his sister, he decided that he needed your services.”

You frown. “What were his plans for me beforehand?”

“He was planning on ‘teaching you a lesson’, whatever that meant, I honestly don’t know.” She sighs. “He didn’t take things so personally until recently.”

You nod. “Do you think his feud with Blackheart might have something to do with it?”

Claudia rubs her chin. “Possibly. I know that he lost some important people when he tried to attack her base.”

You frown. “It wasn’t just her base. It was a city with innocent bystanders in it.”

“I’ve heard that,” she says. However, before you can get another word in, she stands up. “Thank you for the food, Captain. If you’ll excuse me, I’m feeling somewhat tired. It’s been a long day.” With that, she leaves the wardroom.

You finish your grilled cheese, yawning loudly. Come to think of it, it’s been a pretty long day for you too.

>Head up to your quarters for some rest.
>Visit a crew member. (specify)
>Watch some TV in the wardroom.
>Write-in.

>>1376744
>>Watch some TV in the wardroom.

>>1376744
>>Head up to your quarters for some rest.

>>1376744
>Watch some TV in the wardroom.

>>1376744
>Visit a crew member. (specify)
Teh robut!

You flip on the TV, switching through the channels. Eventually you decide to stop on a news show. You recall the channel in question being one you used to watch, though it’s been years since you actively followed them specifically. One of the anchors, a balding British man, covers a story apparently happening live in London.

“And as you can see here, the old Parliament building, a truly historic landmark here in London, received quite a bit of damage when the accident occurred.” It cuts to a shot of Parliament, which appears to have gone through a fire of great magnitude. “Officials are stating that a cluster of old gas lines under the building ruptured from age, resulting in the explosion that destroyed almost half of the building. Thankfully, nobody was harmed in the blast or resulting fire. The Federal Navy has yet to comment on whether this will affect the upcoming Fleet Week celebrations happening all over Earth.” You grimace, changing the channel to an intergalactic news network.

“In other news,” the anchor begins. “Rumors of Psirinean-Archaean hostilities flaring up in the Pelagius Pocket appear to have some truth to them, as both peoples’ governments have called off their upcoming diplomatic talks and military exercises.” The newscaster frowns, switching to another topic. “Another headline from earlier this month has been developing apparently, as word has gotten out about the strange occurrences on New Albany. Multiple sources from inside the Federal Navy report that a wealthy elite from the planet was found to be conducting human experimentation leading up to the attempted coup. While the Navy has denied these allegations, many sources claim that this person was killed by one of their own subjects, who promptly fled the planet in the chaos of the attack.”

You get a feeling in the pit of your stomach as various shots of New Albany are shown. Most of it is footage of the fighting between the militias and Marines, but you notice a shot from what looks like a bodycam on a soldier, showing the interior of Dr. Sofia’s laboratory. You notice that they don’t mention any names, thankfully, but it’s clear that the intel wasn’t as airtight as Major Cole intended it to be.

You turn the TV off with a grunt, leaning back in your chair as you listen to the quiet rumble of your ship’s reactor. Rubbing your eyes tiredly, you pull out your communicator and mess around with it for a while. After a while, you blink and look up at the clock, astonished to see that you’ve wasted almost an hour on your communicator doing pretty much nothing. You yawn, standing up and heading upstairs to get a quick nap.

That's going to be it for tonight. I plan on running tomorrow afternoon to wrap the thread up.

>>1377093
Waah, I missed the session. That Lowe guy is getting a little big for his boots if he thinks that because he has some pull on Mars he can brazenly attack an innocent colony. We should put a bomb in his sister when we return her to him. That'll teach him. ;)

>>1377097
thnaks

>>1376554
Note how Claudia answered our question without actually answering it. She's a professional.

>>1377097
I'll probably miss that but should we point out that having Claudia try to prevent her boss from betraying us could give him the perfect reason to get rid of her as well?

Mob bosses don't like Independents.

I say we give his sister to Blackleaf. End the war. Dumb fuck wants us involved, we'll now he's got it.

File: Earth Low-Orbit Station #48.jpg (1.39 MB, 3000x2319)

1.39 MB JPG

The magnetic locks engage, securing the Bad Habit in its dock as you stand up from your chair. Low-Earth Orbit stations like the one you’ve just docked at are numerous, and this particular one is one of the oldest, dating all the way back to the 2100’s.

“Alright, sir.” Tom swivels around to face you, lighting a cigarette. “I’ll go ahead and get the cargo ready to be unloaded.” He stands up and walks out with you following him. The two of you part ways in the wardroom as you stop to get a cup of coffee.

Tillman approaches you as you drink your coffee, handing you an envelope of cash. “Thank you for transporting me, Captain.” He shakes your hand and leaves. You open the envelope to see 8,000 Standards in it. A nice payday, to be sure. After you finish your coffee, you head down to the cargo hold. The ramp is open, and two forklifts are already moving the bins of grain away from your ship, with Tom directing them. As you approach Tom, he hands you a wad of 5,000 Standards. You add that to the envelope with a satisfied grin. It’s been a pretty good day so far, having made 13,000 Standards.

“Sir, it looks like our business here is finished.” Tom crosses his arms, looking out at the massive hangar where your ship currently sits. “I assume we’re getting out of here?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “I don’t see any reason it sticking around. We’ve got work to do.” However, as you turn and begin walking up the stairs, you nearly run into Samantha.

“Um, Captain,” she begins speaking sheepishly.

“Yeah? What’s up?” You lean against the railing, rubbing your eyes tiredly.

“I know you said we wouldn’t be on Earth for very long…” She rubs the back of her neck, looking away. “And I know we have a job to do… But do you think I would be able to go see my family while we’re here? I’d just have to take a shuttle down to Earth, then it’d only be a couple hours to my parents’ place and back to the spaceport…”

>”Okay.”
>”Can it wait until we do this next job?”
>Write-in.

>>1378595
> Okay
It might be best to hurry along to the place but she might die (for real this time) on this mission and it would be sad if she didn't see her parents when she had a chance.

I'm feeling less than enthusiastic about this HK bullshit but can't really think of a graceful way out of it. Maybe we can call in some favors from eg Sammy and spooky vampire guy and team up with Blackheart to put him down.

>>1378595
>>”Okay.”

>>1378595
>>”Okay.”

>>1378595
>”Okay.”
2 hours tops.

>>1378595
>"I won't mind, but are you sure so little time will be enough? They thought you dead for two years."

>>1380128
Backing this.

Hey everyone. My apologies for not posting more last night, it's just that it took almost three hours to get two votes, which kind of killed my drive to run the session. I think I'm just going to call the thread here. Things have been a bit hectic in my personal life as well, so I think I'm going to take a break from the quest for a while. It sucks to have to say this, but I think the next thread will be in three weeks or so.

Sorry guys.

>>1380559
It's OK man. Sort it out.

>>1380559
no pls, I'm sorry i slept in ;.;

>>1378595
>Write-in.

If you want to do it now we certainly can but are you sure it will be enough time? Might be able to get a larger block of time after the job

>>1380559

Sorry man, was away last night, best of luck on the personal side of things, we'll be here when you're ready