>>2071051
>Name: Jessie Mason
>Gender: Female.
>Age: 25
>Backstory: Following the family tradition of military service, she joined the military at the earliest recruitment age. Using family connections, she quickly rose through the ranks with little issue. Though she does have the skills to back up her rank, many of the lower rank and file whisper about her being a silver spooned, spoiled woman who got her rank on daddy's word alone. This is mainly due to her young-ish age.
>Notable Skills: Command, Strategy, Persuasion.

Whipped this up, not sure how it sounds but it's what I came up with.

>>2071051

HAIL CURSED, KING OF KINGS! LOOK UPON HIS WORKS, YE MIGHTY: AND DESPAIR!

>Name: Samson Iskander Wick

>Gender: Male

>Age: 22

>Backstory: Born on Earth, more specifically in the United States. Sam was born into a military family, with most men in the house joining in with the EarthGov navy. While Sam as more than qualified to join, he figured that it'd be best to set out on his own. So with money in pocket, spaceship drifting through the cosmos, and a crew to rely on. He's looking to be like the privateers and conquestadors of old. And while he does hope to get rich, he also hopes that his family can forgive what they call "A betrayal to his own blood".

>3 Notable skills (ex:Barter, Intimidation, Infantry combat, Command, etc): Command, Persuasion, Infantry combat

>>2071051
Evan "chrome" Graves
Male (cyborg)
31
An robotics engineer working for a ship manufacturer , usually prepping equipment and droids for frontier and colony ships. During one unfortunate shakedown run for a fresh frontier supplies ship, you were injured while (successfully) defending your hard work from a pirate raid. No doubt hoping to score a fresh load of supplies and equipment, these disorganization raiders found more then they bargained for when you turned the ships compliment of industrial droids on them. You werent so lucky, when the hull breached from a loose grenade. The emergency bulkhead slammed shut in the nick of time, stopping your short trip to the void....but not fast enough to save your left shoulder and temple. A small price to pay according to corporate, at least they rushed you into surgery and gave you a shiny set of cybernetics...and the command of a small ship in the company fleet. no doubt a PR move, but you weren't going to complain.
- AI management, general engineering, "unarmed" combat.

>>2071051
>>2071116
second

>>2071095
sounds good to me but, kinda wanting to do more of a pirate feel for something like this.

Sorry guys no real idea for a character right now

>>2071149
Oooh I didnt think anybody would go with a cyborg. Cybernetic enhancements are available and upgradeable

>>2071164
was tired of the young military type captain, so why not corporate inspired/backed, and older 30-40, and a cyborg with aches and occasional glitches.
>>2071156

could still totally be a pirate though.

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>>2071116
This. Let's go our own way. We don't even need to be a mustache twirling villain. Just a badass pirate/privateer.

>>2071164

Are cybernetic enhancements like Shadowrun cybernetics only more...spaceish? Or are they like something else?

>>2071180

>Implying that being both isn'r possible

But in any case I figured being spess Hernan Cortez/a Rogue Trader would be hype

>>2071189
You can get infrared eyes, a bio-steel arm with fusion blade tipped claws, subdermal body armor and anything else (within reason)

>>2071189
Of course both is possible. Besides one man's pirate is another's privateer anyways. I'd be down to be a little more Mal Reynolds than Cortes myself. Let's see where this goes though yea?

>>2071195

And now for becoming a hybrid of Adam "I never asked for this" Jensen and Commander Shepard as a Rogue Trader. Oh this quest is gonna be fun

>>2071198

I'm fine with that. But remember, Cortez did nothing wrong in committing genocide on those Aztecs

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>>2071195
So...40kish stuff? Because when I read claws I immediately thought of this badass.

>>2071051
>Name: Rook "Rookie" Anderson
>Gender: Male
>Age: 23
>Backstory: A prodigal pilot from a wealthy family, Rook, or some people call "Rookie", is eager to prove his worth. Professing his desire to delve into space exploration at a young age, his parents are not happy of his decision to choose such dangerous occupation instead of inheriting the family's business as he is the first son of the family. They however conceded and agreed to sent Rook to a spaceship piloting academy. He graduated with flying colors and was given the offer to pilot and lead a small government vessel and small amount of crew into deep space exploration.
>Abilities: Piloting, logistics, persuasion

>>2071206
Look, if they're horrible genocidal heart eating motherfuckers. We kick teeth in and get the loot. Maybe glass the planet too after. Just in case.

>>2071223

Or we enslave them and use them as cannon fodder/sell them to some rich folk with peculiar tastes

>You are Samson Iskander Wick.
>Your notable skills are
>Command- +5 to rolls involving leading men or directing ships
>Persuasion- Silver tongue +5 to rolls directed towards convincing someone of anything
>Infantry combat- you are a trained footsoldier, getting stuck in is second nature to you. +5 to combat rolls on foot.

You brace your boots on the dingy metal table in the small dive bar on the lower sector of Heaven Station, staring across at the light blue skinned, sextapedal, vaguely equine alien before you. All five of the Rkkkkrtkkki's eyes are shifting uneasily as you glower at it, contemplating its last offer
"Youre telling me... You want to me intercept a freighter... FULL of Vostok mercenaries to capture a Corti Jump drive? Are you sure Youre not a Lesser Caste that got bleached? Thought you guys were the smart ones"
You spit, swirling the faintly glowing beverage in your cup before downing the overly sour mixture.

The Rkkkkrtkkki gulps noisily, laying three of its spindly arms on the table while fiddling with its drink with the other.
"This one... Is not the author of this offer you receive. This one is but a servant."
It clicks, the translator implant behind your ear shifting its clicks and whistles into perfect, if flat, English.

You glare at it meaningfully, shaking your empty cup slightly as it finally gets the message and directs over a server droid that refills your cup for the fifth time.

You mull over the offer again. Forty thousand Dominion credits to intercept a (hopefully) unarmed freighter on a rarely traveled space lane and clear it of crew and guards. Not as big of a challenge as you make out but you don't want this dimwitted space horse to catch on and lower the offer.

>Accept. Easy money.
>Decline. You'll find your own work
>Ask for more details.

>>2071231
Enslaving really horrible people and selling em? Hmm...I man hell, if there's money in it.

>>2071210
Ehhh basically a robot hand with sharp hot knives Instead of massive claws.

>>2071259
Could we get massive claws eventually? Imagine all the fun we'd have.
>Ask for more details.
He seems a bit shifty, we ain't that intimidating are we? Let's see if he's a squealer or just nervous.

>>2071257

>Ask for more details.

Can't be running in blind, even somewhat blind

>Ask for more details
>Roll me d100+5 for your prying

Rolled 98 + 5 (1d100 + 5)

>>2071291

Rolled 79 + 5 (1d100 + 5)

>>2071291

Rollan

>>2071296

Jesus Christ Cal, you did great

>>2071299
Fuck yea. I imagine we'd be a mean hand at poker too. Please tell me they play poker in this crazy future?

>98+5=103

You narrow your eyes and smile viciously at the Rkkkkrtkkki, knowing the many herbivorous species of the galaxy were unnerved by the predatory display of teeth.
"Are you sure that's all you can tell me buddy. Id hate to run into difficulty... Id be very..... Upset"
You nearly snarl with the last syllable, your grip sending spiderwebs of cracks through the cup you hold.

The Rkkkkrtkkki sputters in sudden realization of his predicament and whinnies fearfully before consulting the small com-unit on its 2nd wrist.
"This one... Believes more information could become available if you... Wish... What would you like to know Captain Wick?"

>You have three questions. He will answer to the best of his knowledge

>>2071367
Hoo boy. Who's backing you? Are you sure this is one undarmed freighter? Will there be any unexpected friends coming to this party?

>>2071388

Supportin

>>2071388
Sounds good to me.

>>2071388
gopher it.

You slam your drink down, cracking open the bottom of the cup, allowing the phosphorescent mixture to ooze out.
"Who are you working for!"
You growl, fixing your eyes on the light blue alien before you. The pungent odors of dozens of burning herbs, chemicals and inhalants waft over you as the denizens of the bar shift around your table like the current of river as the Rkkkkrtkkki sputters out its response
"This one... This one is a servant of the Krrrtirri corporation. This ones employers believe the Corti Jump drive isn't impossible to recreate."

You lean forward, processing the information. The Krrrtirri corporation is a moderately powerful company in Dominion space. Their shipments have recently been under heavy interception by Separatist Privateers and Skaali slave ships. They must be desperate to try to steal one of the Corti's proprietary jump drives.

"Are you sure this is one unarmed freighter? Last thing I need is a damn Cruiser trailing the thing"
You ask as you lean back, gesturing with your leaking cup

Again the flurry of wrist taps and soft clicks before the answer
"This ones superiors believe that the Freighter is unguarded barring its... Crew. There is a slight possibility of small escort, no more than one or two Corvettes at most. The owner of the freighter is not.... Wealthy enough to hire suitable security"

You lean forward, mental calculations going wild as you imagine possible scenarios.
"Any unexpected guests gonna be showing up?"
You ask to a snort of confusion as the metaphor refuses to translate
"Can I expect them to call for help? Reinforcements?"

The RKkkkrtkkki twitches its head sideways, their version of a violent head shake
"If they do in fact call for help it will be... Several days before assistance could arrive... You should be... Long gone by then..."
Its clicks and whistles trail off as it looks nervously and expectantly at you, obviously ready to end this stressful encounter

>Accept
>Decline
>Negotiate price. Maximum hagglemode

>>2071429
>>Negotiate price. Maximum hagglemode
He held back. We don't.

>>2071429

>Negotiate price. Maximum hagglemode

Let's Jew him good

>Announce amount desired
>Offer starts at 40k
>D100 with a -10 for every additional 10k you ask for

Rolled 46 + 20 (1d100 + 20)

>>2071477
60k, let's not be too greedy. 10k for lying, and 10k for hazards. It's just business. Besides, if we help em out, maybe we'll get some more gigs later. A quid pro quo situation.

>>2071493
That's a -20 amigo

Rolled 42 (1d100)

>>2071477

"I'm gonna need an extra 30k. 10 for lying to me, 10 for hazards, 10 to keep me quiet. Deal?"

>>2071500
Fuck. That's odd.

>>2071512
Gets harder the more money you ask for. I fucked up and forgot you have a +5 to Persuasion which includes barter so its d100-20+5

Rolled 62 + 5 (1d100 + 5)

>>2071477
>>2071493
Second

Rolled 86 + 20 (1d100 + 20)

>>2071477
COME AT ME BROOOO

>>2071544

Thank you Shekelberg

>86-20+5=71
>Extra 20k gained
>Handrubbing.gif

You glower intensely at the Rkkkkrtkkki for a moment before leaning back with finality
"I want an extra twenty thousand credits"
You say bluntly as the alien sputters for a moment, its translator kicking in a moment later

"An extra... Twenty? Thousand?! What possibly for? Forty thousand is more than acceptable restitution for the desired task!"
The blue skinned alien horse stares at you, snorting slightly as you place both palms on the table.

"One.. You held back information on me. That's an extra ten. TWO.. Hazard pay. Freighter alone is forty thousand. Freighter with escort? Extra ten. Fair is fair Clicky. You want the job done?"
You smile dangerously, reaching out and flicking over its drink, its full body flinch brings joy to your heart. The rapid soft clicks into its com-unit and sigh of resignation are all you need to hear.
"Sixty thousand is... Acceptable. This one will remain here to receive your transmission of a successful mission. If this one does not receive a mission update within four (days) this one will assume you have been terminated and the mission a failure. Acceptable?"

>Y
>N

>>2071652

>Y

Let's get going

>>2071652
>>Y

>>2071652
>>Y

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>>2071549
any time gentile.

>mission accepted.

You stand, swinging your jacket onto your shoulders as the Rkkkkrtkkki rises from its crouch, their multiple legs and gangly physique make it impossible for them to fit in a chair.
"Ill send you a message once the freighter is disabled. Be along with my money When I do"
Before the blue skinned xenon can respond you are pushing through the crowd, skirting around a drunken Gugnurug, the shaggy aliens phosphorescent patches flashing out of sync with its voice

You wave away the many armed bartenders angered hoots as you walk through the door into the crowded streets of Heaven Station.
"Hes got my bill"

One of the very first stations built by human owned corporations, Heaven Station is embedded in the belly of a once Platinum and titanium rich asteroid. After the mining dried up the stations more... Law abiding citizens moved on. The station is now a sprawling city built on the backs of smugglers, pirates, scrappers and a healthy amount of prostitution. You weave through crowds of assorted aliens and humans, the cries of street vendors and the occasional gunshot ringing out from the alleys around you.

You step over a bleeding Gol'resh, your boot knocking the large dagger protruding from his/hers/its belly as its pockets are rifled through by a pack of grimy children of various species.

You ignore the offers of discount weapons (bad idea), salvaged starship engines (worse idea) and genuine earth "Chinese food" (absolute death sentence, its still moving) on your way toward your hangar. You hope your 2nd in command has kept the damn locals from scrapping it.

>Who is your 2nd?

>Eric Westbrook. Former UNSN gunnery officer. Disgraced and dishonorably discharged after a stray shot accidentally breached a jab station and killed dozens of civilians.
(+10 to Ship weapon damage and accuracy)

>Joanna Skeir. A talented engineer and mechanic with a penchant for electronics and starship engines. Ventured into the stars for a chance to see the universe. (+10 to Shields and Engine)

>Rithik the Exile. A former clan IronClaw Fang Leader. His reputation for Brutality and maximum casualties saw him stripped of his titles and cast out to die by the Gao clans. (+10 to boarding and assault actions when Rithik is involved)

>Jugnur- a Gugnurug Salvager, his massive size belies an incredible intellect and capacity for squeezing every scrap of value from a ruined vessel (+10 to Scrapping and Salvage checks)

>>2071767

Well, all of them sound like good second in command options. Even if we don't pick them they'll still be a part of thr crew right?

>Jugnur- a Gugnurug Salvager, his massive size belies an incredible intellect and capacity for squeezing every scrap of value from a ruined vessel (+10 to Scrapping and Salvage checks)

>>2071785
They'll still be part of the crew you just wont get their bonuses

>>2071767
->Jugnur- a Gugnurug Salvager, his massive size belies an incredible intellect and capacity for squeezing every scrap of value from a ruined vessel (+10 to Scrapping and Salvage checks)

Hey. They only want the drive, not the entire ship.

>>2071789

Alright good to know

>>2071767
>>Joanna Skeir. A talented engineer and mechanic with a penchant for electronics and starship engines. Ventured into the stars for a chance to see the universe. (+10 to Shields and Engine)

>Jugnur is your 2nd in command.
>+10 to salvage and scrapping rolls

You enter your berth and are immediately assaulted by a barrage of noise as the doors open before you

"I do not care WHAT you to barter I will NOT trade you our Reactor fuel for a map to some lost treasure! Now LEAVE"
You duck as a heavy impact sounds off to your left as you enter, a flailing Qvorth flying over your head with a round imprint in its chest. It hits the far wall and scrambles out the door like a oversized gecko, glancing fearfully over its shoulder as Jugnur stomps up irritably

Jugnur is a particularly large Gugnurug. His nearly 4 meter high body is supported by four sturdy legs as thick as your body, ending in blubbery elephantine feet. His small beady eyes peer intensely at you behind a sheet of thick, shaggy black hair. A writhing bundle of wriggling tendrils as thick as your thumb cluster near his wide, broad toothed mouth. His entire body is covered in that thick, wiry hair except for three, palm wide strips of phosphorescent skin that stretch across his sides. They flash to indicate his emotion on a scale that far outstrips his translator implants abilities.

You gesture towards the fleeing Qvorth and the trail of bluish green blood leading from the door and smirk
"Not enjoying the local hospitality Jug?"
You ask, waving at your crew to signal it is time to load up.

"This is third time this hour he attempted to barter our reactor fuel in exchange for a map to a highly valuable wreck. I know it is false because those star coordinates lead directly into Skaali space. I felt more... Aggressive tactics were warranted"
His mouth-tentacles writhe in irritation as his patches flash irritated dull orange and amused light bluegreen.
"How did your meeting with the Rkkkkrtkkki go?" he asks with a curious pink

"It went great "
You respond, turning to watch your crew load various crates of provisions and supplies into the bowels of your vessel.

The Striker class Corvette looms above you like a bird of prey, its hull scarred and pockmarked, patched and welded in places. The engines are outdated, the reactor finnicky, the air is stale and the life support is downright treasonous at times.

Home sweet home.
>Striker class Corvette
>100 hull points
>100 Shield
>1 lv1 40mm Taurus Railgun (1D100 damage)
>1 lv1 Longshot Missile Launcher (2D100 damage, 2 turn reload)
>Lv1 Armor
>Lv1 Shields
>Lv1 Engine (100hp)
>Lv1 Life Support (100hp)
>Lv1 Bridge (100hp)
>Lv1 Fire control (100hp£
>Lv1 Navigation sensors
>Lv1 Reactor
>Lv1 Coolant Systems
>Lv1 Sensors
>Lv1 Medbay
>Lv1 Cargo bay
>Current cargo- none
>26 crew counting yourself
>Notable crew-
>Jugnur-2nd in command (+10 to salvage rolls)
>Joanna Skier (Engineer)
>Eric Westbrook (Fire Control officer)
>Rithik the Exile (Security officer and boarding expert)

>Timeskip to mission start
>Spend a bit associating yourself with your crew

>>2071903

>Spend a bit associating yourself with your crew

May as well get to know the people who're with us

>>2071903
>>Spend a bit associating yourself with your crew

>>2071903
>>Spend a bit associating yourself with your crew

>Headed to bed guys. Pick this back up tomorrow around noonish. Thanks for playing you mad bastards!

>Sorry about the delay guys. Been a busy day in the life of cursed. Who all is still here?

>>2073786
>>2073786
alive

>>2073786
still here. gonna head out and buy some tools in a bit, but here.

>>2073786

Bready

>>2073786
I’m good to go

>Spend a bit of time getting familiar with your ship and crew

Jugnur ambles off to direct the loading of some critical spare components that he assures you aren't (extremely) volatile. The way those canisters are covered in radiation shielding and faintly glowing doesn't exactly reassure you.

You stare at your ship for a moment, eying the scars in the hull, the angular appearance that resembles a bird of prey, the two engines that extend out from the the main hull on thick struts like the wings of a hawk. The striker class corvette was truly a finely crafted piece of machinery.... Sixty years ago.

You think back to the first day you took ownership of the vessel, idly scratching the stubble on your chin as the loading wraps up.

>Won her in a card game from a elderly smuggler. Youre still finding hidden cargo areas (Smugglers run history)

>found her drifting while working salvage, massive gaps ripped in the hull and the crew missing. No survivors.(Bloody Past History)

>Bought her cheap from a salvage yard. Took a bit to buff the UNSN paint from the hull and patch up that plasma burn (Military Surplus history)

>Found her abandoned on a class 6 planet with the crew in various states of... Eaten (Science gone wrong History)

>Other

>>2073900
Hmm split between bloody past and science gone wrong. Both sound like they could dredge up something pretty interesting. I prefer the strange though so I’ll go with
>Science gone wrong

>>2073900

>Found her abandoned on a class 6 planet with the crew in various states of... Eaten (Science gone wrong History)

Neat

>>2073900
>>Bought her cheap from a salvage yard. Took a bit to buff the UNSN paint from the hull and patch up that plasma burn (Military Surplus history)

>Gimme a bit. Familial obligations came up!

>>2073900
>>Bought her cheap from a salvage yard. Took a bit to buff the UNSN paint from the hull and patch up that plasma burn (Military Surplus history)

>>2073900
>>found her drifting while working salvage, massive gaps ripped in the hull and the crew missing. No survivors.
Fuck yea, just got home from the yard got me a beer and this quest is still goin!

>>2073900
>found her drifting while working salvage, massive gaps ripped in the hull and the crew missing. No survivors.(Bloody Past History)

>Sorry, dinner with the familia drug on longer than it should have

>2 for Bloody Past
>2 for Mil-Surp
>2 for SCIENCE

any tiebreakers?

>>2074389
60 years old. could follow two and ditch one?

>>2074405
So, Mil surplus that had a sudden extreme case of carnage?

>>2074405
>>2074411

But guys, SCIENCE.

>>2074460
ASSKICKERY Chaos.

Rolled 2 (1d3)

>Ill roll for it

>1-Science

>2-Bloody Past

>3-Mil-Surp

>>2074477
>2 for SCIENCE

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>>2074477
>>2-Bloody Past

>>2074477

Well I won't get the possible hidden murder horrors. But we have the Event Horizon

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>>2074556

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>>2074587
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YhEs9KUQ4qo

>Bloody past History

You contemplate back to the first day you took ownership of this ship. Back in your early days you worked salvage for a particularly greedy Ellebenellin who had sent you and your team into the dark space between two lesser known space lanes after a drifting emergency beacon. The source of that signal had been... Shocking to say the least.

A lone Tiamat Corp prototype corvette, its hull warped and cracked, massive rents torn into the metal and... Blown away from the inside. When you had boarded it had taken all your control to avoid retching in your suits helmet as you took in the sights. Walls painted rusty brown in long dried blood, freeze dried chunks of tissue bouncing off the walls and ceiling. Bodies torn to little more than piles of ancient gristle and gore, bones shattered to fragments and... Gnawed.

Here and there you also find salvager corpses, some cowering in corners with apparently self inflicted gunshot wounds and others bisected in the atmosphere doors. Apparently they were trapped here when the emergency decompression systems kicked on...

You hoped anyway.

It took several days to clear the bodies and buff the dried gore from the walls. There was a surprisingly little amount of damage to the ships critical systems and with a jolt of power from your tug it was easily able to get its reactor back online.

Try as your tech did, he was unable to access the main logs that would reveal exactly what massacre(s) transpired onboard this ship. Not that it was any concern of yours. With some tender ministrations by a crew of well paid Kothera mechanics you had the hulls repaired and a forged title putting the vessel in your name. Your former employer had been unhappy but what with that tip to the Dominion's Salvage Fraud agency he could do precisely fuck all about it.

You followed the long tradition of naming your vessel for luck and set off as a fully fledged captain nearly a year ago..

>Name of your vessel is....?

>Fury

>Hawk

>Dagger

>Arrow

>other

>>2074824
>Daggered Dreams

>>2074824
>other "The Malcontent"

>>2074824
>Queen of Scars

Rolled 2 (1d3)

1
>>2074906
2
>>2075015
3
>>2075030

Rollan!

Splattered across the prow of your ship is her name ,"The Malcontent", in vibrant red paint, standing out against the dull Grey and black of the hull. You step onto the boarding ramp as Jugnur finishes berating the unfortunate crewman who almost dropped a lightly glowing vial.

Stepping through into the belly of the Malcontent you take a deep breath and as always grimace. The air has always had a pervasive copper tang. Like a mouthful of pennies or a busted lip, getting more pungent and noticeable as you entered engineering. It made your human crewmembers uneasy until they got used to it.

The interior of the Malcontent has been heavily patched with new additions forcibly grafted onto the old. In the original sections of the ship,the walls are spare and utilitarian with each room possessing a small visual and auditory sensor in the ceiling that you have been unable to discern the purpose of or tap into. The newer areas seem like organ transplants in a massive animal, the "host" seemingly unwilling to accept them as power fluctuations are common at times.

You wave along Rithik and several other crew as they pass by, your thumbs in your pockets as you ponder your next move.

>Speak with Eric (Gunnery officer)

>Speak with Joanna (Engineer)

>Speak with Rithik (Security Chief)

>Speak with Jugnur

>Inspect the engines

>Inspect the Reactor

>Inspect the Weapon systems

>Inspect Life support

>Inspect the Slip Drive

>Head to the Bridge and get going

>>2075155
>>Speak with Joanna (Engineer)

>>2075155
>Speak with Eric

>>2075155

>Speak with Eric (Gunnery officer)

>Speak with Eric

You set your feet towards the fire control center where you know your gunnery officer Eric Westbrook is overseeing the final check of weapons and ammunition.

Walking along the passages of the ship you find yourself outside of the door to the Fire Control station. Inside is the maelstrom of motion that is your gunnery officer. Eric is a tall, stocky man. His dark hair, once regulation crew cut is now a shaggy mess. His void-paled skin swirls with tattoos and scars, far too many on the inside of his wrists. He gnaws a plastic toothpick and grunts at you as he notices you in the doorway, halting his frantic energy.

"'Ay boss. What can I do fer ya?"
He sidelips around the toothpick, gnawing it like it personally offended him

>Ask him about the status of the Malcontents Weapons

>Ask him about his opinion of the mission

>Ask him about himself. How are YOU doing.

>Other

>>2075224

>Ask him about the status of the Malcontents Weapons

>>2075224
>>Ask him about the status of the Malcontents Weapons
>>Ask him about his opinion of the mission
>>Ask him about himself. How are YOU doing.

>>2075490
Supportin' with a modification

+
>Anything issues with the ship or your equipment? Don't wanna get caught with our pants down and the soap dropped if things go sideways.

>Ask him about the Malcontents weapons

You gesture at the various consoles, ammunition feeds and readouts across several different displays.

"Hows the old girls guns doing Eric? We ready to party?"
You ask, leaning against the door to give Eric some more room as he moves across the cramped room, adjusting screens and entering numbers. He pauses, chewing the unfortunate toothpick relentlessly

"Ehh... The Taurus is half decent. Its nothin' TOO fancy but its got the range and accuracy to hit reliable like and its powerful enough to hit from orbit and attack hard targets."
He taps a screen and seems pleased by the happy beep it issues before continuing
"The Longshot on th'other hand...."
He trails off, spitting the toothpick into a wastebasket before immediately inserting another to his merciless maw.

"Whats wrong with the Longshot?"
You ask worriedly, the damn thing had been expensive to install

"Nothin is wrong with the missiles THEMSELVES. Its just the damn ammo feed for the launcher. Takes for-Fuckin-ever to reload it. Gotta bring the sumbitches up from storage and load em on conveyors. But the missiles themselves are good. HE warhead with a decent amount of penetration. They'll pop a ship like a damn soup can if you hit it right"
He finishes, gesturing with his hands
"Also got some Grav-Spikes and Disruptor Beacons in cargo. Handy for yanking someone out of FTL or making sure they can't follow you."
He leans back against a console and takes a swig of some pungent energy drink, brushing his hair back from his eyes with a soot stained hand.

"I think this old tub can put up a decent fight boss. Just as long as we don't get stuck in we should do pretty damn well."
He says, wiping the drink from his chin and regarding you coolly

>Sounds good to me (ask other question)

>do what you can with that ammo feed Eric. Now

>good deal. Leave. (Go where)

>>2075720

>do what you can with that ammo feed Eric. Now

For the best

>>2075737
This. But also tell him if he does this, drinks are on us next time.

>>2075737
>do what you can with that ammo feed Eric. Now
this
>>2076166
and this.

You shake your head, pointing at the console you hope correlates to the Longshot missile launcher.
"I don't care what you have to do Eric. Get it working right. Now."
A little blunt but damn if you don't have a image to cultivate.

Eric sighs heavily, chewing gently at his toothpick before nodding resignedly.
"Ill see what I can do boss"

>Roll me 1d100 for Eric's success.

Rolled 27 (1d100)

>>2076464

Rolled 65 (1d100)

>>2076464

Rolled 69 (1d100)

>>2076464

>69. Eric has decreased the load time for the Longshot missile launcher to one turn.

You leave Eric to his work, calibrating and adjusting the various components of the Longshots reload mechanism. You clap him on the shoulder and step out into the hallway of the Malcontents main corridor. From the sounds of things the boarding ramp is sealing and your just about ready to launch.

>Get underway

>Go inspect something (what)

>Go talk to somebody

>Other

>>2076604
>>Go inspect something (what)
>life support. give it a once over.

>>2076712
Support

>>2076712
i DO like breathing, ...and hot showers in the captains quarters.

>>2076712
I can agree to this.

>>2076775
Hot showers dry out your skin and give you dandruff if you do it too often.

>>2076784
Unless this quest becomes "Viscera Cleanup Detail 2: Space Personal Hygiene Simulator," I don't see us getting much chance to escalate that far.

>Inspect life support

You decide to go take a look at the slightly uncooperative Life Support that supplies the Malcontent with its breathable air... More or less. You nod in greeting to bustling crewmen of several races who walk by, greeting you with a respectful "Boss" in a variety of languages.

Following the pipes along the ceiling you take a small staircase to the Life Support module behind the Engineering deck. The coppery scent grows nearly unbearable as you near the Air Filters. Hitting the entry button you grimace as the smell hits you full in the face like being slapped with a rare steak.

The Life Support module is a complex series of Filters, sterilizers, tanks and hoses that you have only the barest knowledge of what makes it tick. All of your ships Air, water and Biological waste is pumped through here and is either recycled, filtered thousands of times, fed to a highly efficient colony of Oxygen producing algae and plankton or compressed into small Grey bricks and ejected into space.

The hums, gurgles and ticks from within the machinery seem to indicate it is cooperating and not trying to suffocate you all... For now.

>Grab a wrench and inspect it thoroughly (D100)

>this isn't your job. Call Joanna in here and see what she can do with it

>Seems good to you! Go Deal with something that IS your Job

>>2078036
>die

>>2078036

>Grab a wrench and inspect it thoroughly (D100)

For fun

>>2078060

Well fuck you too anon

>>2078067
please fuck me

File: giphy_s.gif (22 KB, 500x500)

22 KB GIF

>>2078060
No bully plz

>Seeing as Die isnt very fun were gonna try to fix that life support to where you probably wont smother
>Roll me a flat d100.

Rolled 68 (1d100)

>>2078036
Wrench dice!

>68! Wrench Dice accepted
>Life Support maintenanced

You flip open a small footlocker and select a handful of tools, nano cutters, probes and a good old fashioned wrench. Cracking your knuckles you open up panels, check voltage, tighten bolts and fastenings and check the various filters.

With a puff of truly vile air you gag and seal a inlet valve, grabbing a marker and writing in large letters "SEWAGE" above it. Proper labeling is important. Moving on to the air treatment you check the filters to see if there is anything you could do about that smell. Twisting away the protective cover you pull one of the molecular screens out and cough as a puff of rusty dust hits you in the face. The smell of copper and old death is stuck to your tongue as you hack and spit, cramming the used filter into the waste chute and slotting in a new one. Tightening the bolts back down you dust yourself off and spit dark saliva onto the floor to rid the taste from your tongue. Now at least the smell isnt THAT bad. A flash of blue light from the sensor in the ceiling catches your eye and you look at it for a moment in confusion, waiting for it to it again. It stubbornly refuses to light up again and you huff, replacing the tools and shaking dust from your hair.

>Head to the bridge

>Go talk to someone

>Go inspect something

>Other

>>2078563

>Head to the bridge

We'll talk to bear security and engineer gal later. Now it's time to get on with the mission

>Head to the Bridge

You dust your hands and key the small com-bead on your wrist, speaking aloud.
"Jugnur, Eric, Joanna, Rithik. Meet me on the bridge"

Various clicks of confirmation and "aye Captain" issue from the small device as you stride along the corridors of the Malcontent. Crew get out of your way, hurrying to their stations as they pick up on your purpose.

Heading upwards into the nose of the vessel you key your entry code into the pad next to the bridge doors, they slide open with a well oiled hiss as you take in the sight of the bridge. Various terminals and consoles sprout from the walls or are inset to the floor. Joanna is already in her chair, tying her white blond hair back in a ponytail as she inspects the readouts from the main reactor, shields and engines. Eric has his feet propped up on the Weapons displays and is tossing a small ball to Rithik, the heavily scarred Gaioan batting it back with his clawed paws. Jugnur takes up an entire corner of the room himself, watching a multitude of sensors that even you aren't sure of their purpose.

They all nod in greeting as you enter, sweeping in and taking a seat in your centrally mounted, heavily padded swivel seat that you had custom made for a human rear.

"Whats the job Boss"
Growls Rithik, picking a chunk of something raw and furry from his teeth with a razor sharp talon

"Yeah Cap! Jugnur says you went and got a contract for us from some shady Clicker!"
Joanna says brightly, fingers dancing across her keyboard.

You clear your throat, tapping your armrest mounted keyboard to bring up the mission details on the central viewscreen.
"Ok boys and girl. We have a Rkkkrtkkki freighter coming along with a bit of sensitive cargo. A Corti Jump drive."
You allow a moment for that to sink in before continuing.
"Our employer wishes us to acquire possession of that Jump drive and return it to them. They offered forty K... I talked them up to sixty for holding back info on me. We shouldn't have to deal with any escort heavier than a regular Dominion corvette. The Freighter ITSELF however may or may not have a compliment of Vostok mercenaries on board. They didnt forbid us from killing them all so im guessing we have a bit of leeway."

Whistles of appreciation from Joanna and Eric and a pleased growl from Rithik let you know all you need to. Your crew is good with this one for the most part.

You indicate the opening hangar doors and set your hands lightly on the controls. The lightest pressure from your hands brings the reactor power up and the engines hum, lifting your vessel off of the floor and slowly gliding out of the massive hangar doors and into the grasp of the void.

>cont

>>2078807
The immediate space around Heaven station is a swarm of various ramshackle vessels. Pirates, smugglers, mercs, refugees and slavers all compete for berths, some do do violently.

You manage to slip through the chaos without being blown apart and set in the coordinates the contact gave you. You indicate Joanna and give her the thumbs up

"Hit the Slip drive Jojo"

She inputs a small series of commands and pulls back a red lever, activating the Malcontents FTL capabilities

The Slip drive mounted in the reactor module spins up, throwing massive amounts of power into creating a sheath of realspace around your ship. A crackling oval of energy forms around your ship before it glows bright white, forcing your view screens to dim before all light suddenly ceases with a audible "Thunk" as your ship is catapulted through a higher dimension.

Joanna sighs, tapping her viewscreen to finalize some commands before turning
"Successful jump Cap'n, we should be there within a few hours."

You nod, leaning back in your seat as you stare into the nothingness of FTL space.You blink and rub your eyes leaning back in your chair

>Timeskip to mission start

>Talk to a crewmember

>Inspect your quarters

>Inspect the Armory

>go grab a bite to eat

>Other

>>2078815

>Inspect your quarters

I'm sure it looks pretty goddamn good

>>2078815
>>Inspect your quarters
>>2078815

>>2078815
>Inspect the Armory

>>2078822
this. if we have time the armory.

>Inspect your Quarters

You push off from your seat and stand, feeling the hum of the Slip drive reverberate through the hull as it keeps you and your crew from slamming back into reality (and possibly a planet). You don't know the exact science but its one of the fastest and safest ways to get around the galaxy.

"Im gonna go check on my stuff for a bit. You guys call me if something bad happens. Jugnur has the wheel"
You say, fleeing the bridge before the chorus of groans can reach you.

You make your way along the main corridor and take a small vertical lift up to your quarters. They were a small addition you had requested during the Malcontents remodel and you felt a bit of indulgence was fitting for a rogue captain..

Stepping out from the lift you kick a pair of pants out of the way and flick on the lights, revealing the (compared to most crew quarters) spacious room. You have your own bathroom, a Desk with a holodisplay, a viewscreen on one wall that is currently paused in the middle of some terrible Lo'skyel comedy. The insectoid xenos sense of humor was either nonexistent or didnt translate well.

You collapse backward onto your bed and look at the ceiling with a tired sigh, running a hand through your hair as you look at the small collection of photos plastered over your bed. One catches your eye, a younger version of you, smiling and happy in the grip of a older boy with similar eyes while a woman watches you both with a small smile. You can almost hear her now, even all these years later.

>"Sammie! Adrian! Play nice you two!
>"Boys listen to your mother"

That gruff, gravelly voice would reprimand and enforce an iron will upon the both of you throughout your lives. Molding you into the men you became...

>Get some rest. These old memories are tiresome

>Scratch up a plan for your attack

>Check the galactic news. It wont be CURRENT but only a few hours delay is better than nothing

>Other

>>2079356
>Check the galactic news. It wont be CURRENT but only a few hours delay is better than nothing

>>2079356

>Check the galactic news. It wont be CURRENT but only a few hours delay is better than nothing

>>2079476
this

>>2079356
>go to the high gravity exercise chamber and get pumped up
I would like to know more of the story around the corti jump drive. If the clickers couldn't just but one then presumably them ones who make them keep a tight hold on them ( which is weird of they claim they are impossible to recreate) and they would be unappreciative of this piece of industrial espionage. If they are a prominent possible future employer we should make sure we don't leave any clues as to who stole the thing so they don't blacklist us.

Also do you happen to have any back story as to why earth want immediately conquered upon entering the interstellar stage? We have seen that organic labour is still valuable and presumably there powerful civilisations that would appreciate a world of primitives to put to work or to put in debt.

>>2079356
>>Check the galactic news. It wont be CURRENT but only a few hours delay is better than nothing
>>2079356

>Check the Galactic news and see Whats up.

You clear your throat and enunciate clearly for the wall mounted vid-screen
"Vid-screen on. Dominion news Networks"

The screen clicks on and immediately scrolls across a selection of news feeds from across the Dominion's various sectors.

You watch disinterestedly, flicking through various feeds. Its all much of the same as the last few months.
"Hmmm... A 'police action' in the Wuldiek Sector. That can't be good for them... Sanctions against the Torveth Collective again...that'll do a lot of good.... Propaganda....Corti refusing to recognize Skaali as sentient species so they can sell bioweapons to them legally....New Human ambassador to the Dominion... Amir Kejani?...Never heard of him.... More propaganda..."

You idly flick between the channels and rub your temples in frustration. The Dominion wouldn't even let their citizens know there was a war on if they didnt have to.

>Get some rest

>Timeskip to mission Start

>Inspect something

>Talk to someone.

>>2080700
>Dubs.
Also Id be happy to explain. The Corti are the origin of humanities ideas of "little Grey space men". They frequently kidnap and experiment on uncontacted races to develop translator tech and implants designed for their biology to sell to them when they enter the galactic scene along with Bio-weapons tailored for their physiology in case they get testy. The Corti are very protective of their secrets but for them a bit of espionage and thievery is basically part of their culture, basically "if you can't hold onto it you didnt deserve to keep it".

The Corti Jump drives are "theoretically" impossible to recreate due to their insanely complex inner workings but odds are a Corti is offering to show then how in exchange for lots and lots of credits. Your employer is after one to give their ships an edge over pirates as Jump drives are vastly superior in speed and are much more difficult to intercept with Grav-spikes or Disruptor beacons.

The human race is not enslaved because slavery is largely frowned upon by the Dominion unless it is common in the enslavers and slaves cultures. Humans are used quite often as mercenaries, bounty hunters and peacekeepers due to their higher than average strength and durability.

>>2081039

>Timeskip to mission Start

Time to get to the mission

>>2081039
>>Timeskip to mission Start

>>2081039
>Timeskip to mission Start

>They frequently kidnap and experiment on uncontacted races to develop translator tech and implants designed for their biology to sell to them when they enter the galactic scene
That's a pretty good racket. "Hi friends, I know you are suffering from some culture shock right now but have we got just what you need to compete!"

>Timeskip

You rouse yourself from the impromptu powernap as the com-unit on your wrist beeps and vibrates urgently
"Captain! Captain! WICK! Wake up! We're here!"
Comes Jugnurs deep voice, professional excitement no doubt coloring his flanks a light yellowish gold.

You throw your jacket back on, rub the sleep from your eyes and make your way along the corridor as a sudden "Thud" from the engineering deck signals your translation back into realspace.

You grin viciously, watching your crew scramble to ready weapons and manning sensors. They know as well as you do that its time to go to work.

You storm into the bridge and leap into your seat, spinning around several times as your bridge crew look on in bemused shock.
"Jug! Jojo! What do we have on sensors!"
You yell happily, spinning rapidly in your swivel chair.

Joanna sighs, fingers flying on keyboards and holodisplays as she brings up the passive and active sensors across multiple spectrums.
"Uninhabited system Cap... Seems to be... Hmmm.... Small class two star, one rocky planet... A small gas giant... Larger one outside a small asteroid belt with what appears to be a.... Abandoned mining rig in its rings."

Jugnur grunts, one of his facial tentacles tapping the screen in front of him in several spaces.
"The star lane they will be taking could be intercepted at several points with the deployment of Grav-spikes to yank them from FTL. Ive highlighted some possible attack points."

You look over the data and rub your chin, deep in thought..

>Deploy Grav Spike in open space, don't give them a chance to hide

>Deploy Grav spike in the asteroid field, give them a rude wakeup

>Deploy a Grav spike near the rocky planet

>Deploy a Grav spike near the Mining rig, hide in the rings with the debris

>>2081294

>Deploy Grav Spike in open space, don't give them a chance to hide

>>2081294
>Deploy Grav Spike in open space, don't give them a chance to hide
I think all the other options give them more possible advantage depending on how badass their marines are. I'm torn between wanting to just fill the ship with holes and hope that the drive survives and wanting to board to make sure our prize is intact. I think if we are good mercs we should probably do the latter. Although we should be able to safely expose the bridge to space.

Do we have something to take their shields down, apart from just hammering them?

>>2081421
Your longshot missile is the best chance to take a shield down at the moment. Pulse torpedoes are the best thing for the job (3d100 against shields but 0 against hull)

>>2081294
>Deploy Grav Spike in open space, don't give them a chance to hide

File: Hydra_Freighter_by_Marian87.jpg (134 KB, 1084x737)

134 KB JPG

>Deploy Grav-spikes in open space.

You grip your control levers and bring the ship around the nearest interception point Jugnur had pointed out to you. You input a small series of commands into your armrest and a affirmative beep issues as one of the Grav-spikes is ejected from the cargo bay.

The complex bundle of machinery quickly expands into a several meter long beacon broadcasting conflicting and dangerous FTL readings. Any ship in the path will be forced to drop from FTL by their computer systems.

You pull back to a safe distance and kick your feet up, waiting for your quarry to arrive. The Grav-spike pulses rhythmically, illuminating space with flashes of radiation.

You aren't waiting long.

With a flash of harsh radiation the nearly kilometer long freighter is dragged into realspace violently, firing it thrusters in fu reverse to avoid any possible collision. A second, smaller flash is right behind it is a small, lightly armored escort Corvette tumbles into reality, sensors frantically firing as they search for you.

You aren't hiding.

>Open fire on the Corvette (railgun)

>Hail them. Be a polite pirate

>Open fire on the Freighter (Railgun or missile)

>other

>>2081771
>Open fire on the Corvette (railgun)
We can't very well play with the freighter while the escort is firing on us.

>>2081825
I forgot to add (or missile) to that option. My bad!

>>2081771
>other
>Open fire on the Corvette (railgun)

if we have the bandwidth, lets fire a missile at the cockpit of the freighter as well.

>Fire on enemy escort corvette
>Enemy Hull points 100
>Enemy Shield 100

>Roll me 1d100 for accuracy

Rolled 92 (1d100)

>>2082131
super accurate

Rolled 49 (1d100)

>>2082131

Rolled 91 (1d100)

>>2082131
dont think ill do better than >>2082139

>>2082139
>>2082564
I was closer than I thought I would be

>>2082564
>>2082566
Maybe if you had had just a little more confidence...

>>2082572
Was expecting low rolls since most of them have been crappy lately for me.

>92! Critical hit! (90 and up is a crit success while 10 and below is a fail)
>Hit!
>Roll me 1d100+10 for damage!

Rolled 47 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>2083032
Hit and destroyed.

Rolled 57 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>2083032

OBLITERATE

>>2083038
>>2083055
Still time for someone to swoop in and kick ass

Rolled 60 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>2083032

Rolled 57 (1d100)

>57+10!
>Enemy Escort corvette takes 67 damage to shields!
>Enemy corvette 100Hp 33 shields

You slam your hand down on the armrest and bark a order to Eric.
"Fire the Taurus! Target that Corvette!"

He snaps off a quick reply
"Yes sir!"
Gritting his teeth around the toothpick as his fingers dance across the controls. Less than three seconds later the ship jolts as the Taurus railgin spits forth a round at an appreciable percentage of the speed of light.

The enemy corvette turns to face you just as the round streaks through the vacuum of space and slams into the shields like a comet. They instantly flare brilliant white as they cope with the devastatingly solid hit. The shields flicker before the staticky field fades back into invisibility.

The Freighter, seemingly panicking, fires its thrusters hard and makes for the asteroid belt, obviously hoping to hide there. They won't make it far, tubs like that might as well go in reverse compared to the Malcontent.

The Enemy corvette emits a bright spark and Eric and Joanna both cry out
"Incoming!"

>Rolling for enemy shot

>Evade (1D100, beat my roll to evade)

>Take the hit and fire (missile or railgun)

>>2083094
Shit I posted before I saw that :(

Rolled 83 (1d100)

>>2083113
>evade (like a leaf on the wind)
It is too early in the fight to be taking hits.

>83 > 57
>Successful evasion!

You instinctively slam the controls to the the left while hitting your thrusters, slamming you down into your seat as the inertial dampeners struggle to compensate as you skim by the round with several hundred yards to spare.

You finish the turn facing down onto the middle of the corvette, drifting up/forward while they push by beneath/front of you... Space is weird sometime. Anyway they are directly in the sights of your weapons

>Fire railgun

>Fire Missile

>FIRE EVERYTHING.

>>2083219
>Fire railgun

File: qo4Dw1W.gif (839 KB, 500x360)

839 KB GIF

>>2083219
>FIRE EVERYTHING.

>>2083219
>>Fire railgun

>>2083219
>Fire railgun

>Fire Railgun
>ROLL ME A SWEET 1D100 FOR ACCURACY

Rolled 9 (1d100)

>>2084153

Rolled 56 (1d100)

>>2084153
Wake up that gunner!

Rolled 12 (1d100)

>>2084153

>9! Critical failure!
>Railgun misfires!

You gesture forward almost contemptuously at the near perfect target before you
"Eric. If you will"

He grins around the deformed plastic toothpick in his teeth before entering the commands and receiving target lock.
"Firing!"
He barks, squeezing the triggers in his controls. A solid "CLUNK" echoes from the fore of the ship. He blanches, reading several displays at once before turning to you
"Misfire captain! Slug bonded to the walls! It will automatically clear but its gonna take a minute or two!"

You sigh in exasperation as the enemy corvette leaves that perfect spot and continues forward, spinning to face you as a plume of exhaust leaves its forward bays

Joanna yelps in shock
"Incoming missile captain!"

>Rolling for enemy accuracy

>Evade (beat my roll)

>Railgun offline for one turn

>Fire missile!

>>2084481
If you choose Fire instead of evade you will have to roll 3d100 for your point defense to shoot down the missile with a DC of 70

>>2084481
we got shields, they dont, hit em with a missile and make it count. Every sec we fuck around here is a bit longer we are waiting for reinforcements to come.

>>2084481
Fire ze missile!
And make the Point Defense worth its weight!

>>2084481

Have a missle ram right into their asshole

>>2084481
>>Evade (beat my roll)

>FIRE ZE MISSILES!
>ROLL ME 4D100
>1 for your missiles accuracy and 3 for your point defense turrets

Shameless self bump

Rolled 24, 84, 72, 16 = 196 (4d100)

>>2084695

Rolled 99 (1d100)

>>2084481
Just realized I never rolled for accuracy for that enemy missile

>>2084837
it seems programmed to find our anus.

>>2084958
You've got 2 hits on it so far with the Point defense so its not too bad.

Rolled 54, 22, 92, 69 = 237 (4d100)

just got home.

>54! Missile hits
>84,92,69 = 2 hits on missile
>Enemy missile shot down!

>Roll me 2d100 for missile damage on enemy corvette!

Rolled 19, 81 = 100 (2d100)

>>2085033

Rolled 10, 66 = 76 (2d100)

>>2085033

>81+10=91 damage
>Enemy corvette
>Shields 33-33=0
>Enemy corvette shields knocked out!
>Enemy corvette Hull 100-58=42

You throw the thrusters into reverse as the automated Point defense turrets blaze into action, spitting glowing beams of tracer rounds into space as the enemy missile bobs and weaves, doing its utmost to avoid the fire before detonating far too close for comfort to your hull in a plume of flame before it is extinguished, the burst of shrapnel barely causing a glow in your shields.

"Fire the longshot!"
You roar at Eric, spinning the Malcontent into a roll to throw off any lock they have on you.

Eric slams his palm down on a large button and you feel the missiles launch reverberate through the hull. The small rocket streaks through space like a laser, curving around and slamming into the enemy corvettes shield like a hammer. The shield collapses under the assault and the missile continues undetonated before slamming into the enemy corvette amidships.

Flame immediately blossoms from the side of the enemy vessel as its delicate insides are expelled violently into the icy grasp of vacuum. Cargo, atmosphere and unlucky crew alike are sucked into the greedy void as the outboard lights of the Corvette dim and flicker.

>Follow up with a Railgun. Finish them off.

>Hail them

>Theyre crippled. Go after that Freighter.

>Board them.

>>2085125
FINISH THEM.

>>2085125
>Theyre crippled. Go after that Freighter.

Rolled 1 (1d2)

1
>>2085303
2
>>2085310

>Roll me 1d100 for Accuracy on your FINISH THEM

Rolled 70 (1d100)

>>2085426
>>2085426

>>2085776
>70 is a hit
>Roll me 1d100 for your damage!

Rolled 100 (1d100)

>>2085803
like the fury of a thousand supernovas.

Rolled 33 (1d100)

>>2085426
>>2085803

Rolled 52 (1d100)

>>2085803
Token late critfail incoming

>>2085848
believe they maybe dead sir.

>>2086068

It is very possibru. I can only hope the raw terror of what we just did makes the freighter decide to simply cooperate, otherwise we cut their ship in half.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VIxywDwObV8

>42-100=-58= FOOKIN DED
>Enemy Corvette destroyed. Violently.

You coldly gesture toward Eric and point at the enemy corvette
"Eric. I want that ship gone. Make it so."

He viciously complies, bringing the weapons to bear and firing a carefully calculated shot directly through the center of the enemy vessel. The Malcontent shudders as the round is discharged and scores a gleaming hole through the enemy corvettes armor. A half second passes where you almost believe you missed before the ship itself bulges slightly before exploding outward in a plume of roiling plasma and vaporized fuel and coolant. It seems your shot cored their reactor and unleashed a unstoppable chain reaction that consumed the ship entirely in the span of a few milliseconds.

You nudge the Malcontents controls and dodge a few chunks of the Corvettes hull, flickering atmospheric fire still boiling from pockets in the metal.

You set your sights on the freighter which is burning void desperately to get away, making hard for the asteroid field

>Fire after them. They won't go far with no engines

>Punch it. You can catch them.

>Hail them.

>Other

>>2086163
>consumed the ship
Great, now we can't even get salvage.

>Punch it. You can catch them.

>>2086163
>Fire after them. They won't go far with no engines

They are bigger than us and cant dodge for shit.

>>2086163
>Punch it. You can catch them!
I don't know how much shield they have but I don't we can take that down and their engine in time.

>>2086163
>Punch it. You can catch them.

>>2086285
>compromise. can we punch it and shoot? These actions do not conflict with each-other. The target remains slow, and we can pick at em en route with missiles and rail gun.

>>2086290
That's thinking right there.
I'll switch to both if we can.

Why shoot at the engine when it has show hitting too close to the reactor can cause an entire ship to vaporize itself? We want the cargo intact.

>Freighters are actually not shielded. They rely on the security of the space lanes and their escorts to get them to their destinations.
>Punch it AND shoot their engines is a viable alternative.

>Railgun is online
>Missiles are online
>Engines are primed

>FIRE (Fire What)
or
>AFTER THEM

>>2086529
>Fire whatever is going to know out the engines in the most destructive way possible. No kid gloves.

>>2086529
>fire missile
Surely it won't blow up if we don't crit...

>>2086756
this. FIRE ZEE MISSILE. Hey, even if we blow the engines, the Freighter is nearly a Kilometer long.

>Fire missiles!
>Roll me 1d100 for accuracy!

Rolled 87 (1d100)

>>2087044

>>2087218
That's a hit
>Roll me 2d100 for damage

Rolled 43, 94 = 137 (2d100)

>>2087445

Rolled 25, 55 = 80 (2d100)

>>2087726

>43+94=137
>Freighter- 250-137= 113
>Freighter heavily damaged

You point toward the fleeing freighter and yell to your gunnery officers
"Eric! Shoot a missile up their ass and slow em down!"

With some wizRdy on his keyboards a missile is sent whooshing away into the void, chasing after the distant freighter. While the missile flies off you prime the engines, taking off after it as fast as you can, pieces of the destroyed corvettes hull pinging away from your shield.

You notice a bright flash ahead of you as the missile impacts the rear of the freighter, burrowing deep into the engines and detonating, flinging chunks of the hull, fuel and hapless crew into the void. You swing wide around the debris field and take in the damage. The entire rear quarter of the ship is depressurized, massive rents in the hull indicative of detonated fuel reserves or volatile cargo. You aren't worrier for the Slip drive however. The more valuable stuff will he kept near the bridge as per its high priority.

Already a emergency distress beacon is pinging away on your sensors, the captain evidently willing to risk fines or prison over death at your hands.

>Hail them. Youre a reasonable guy.

>Scan the ship, find your target and shoot everything that isn't it from the comfort of your bridge.

>Boarding time. Grab your cutlass and pistols.

>>2087788

>Hail them. Youre a reasonable guy.

Let us board and take what we want, and we will spare your lives and not blow up your ship after.

>>2087788
>Other
>hail them: Eject all your Cargo. ALL OF IT. Now.
kill the transmission.

Witnesses are a pretty big liability in industrial sabotage.

>Scan the ship, find your target and shoot everything that isn't it from the comfort of your bridge.

>>2087856
>>2087926
Hail them seems to be the winning vote.

>What say?

>>2087788
>>Scan the ship, find your target and shoot everything that isn't it from the comfort of your bridge.
>>2087788

>>2087926
Thing about that is we may end up taking a bomb onboard.

>>2087988
sure, Eject all your cargo and we'll let you live.

>Roll me 1d100+5 for your command to be obeyed.

Rolled 46 + 5 (1d100 + 5)

>>2088022

Rolled 26 + 5 (1d100 + 5)

>>2088022

Rolled 87 + 5 (1d100 + 5)

>>2088022

>>2089392

A toasty new bread!!!