>>4249566
>Jorah Khadalit, cyberneticist.
>FRC: 3
>BDY: 2
>INT: 5
>PRS: 4
>Skills: Electronics, Medicine

>>4249566
>>Re kel Cavamanse, heir to a noble family.

>>4249566
>>Eldan Mul, hero of the Third Battle of Forneus.
>>FRC: 5
>>BDY: 4
>>INT: 2
>>PRS: 3
>>Skills: Guns, Endure

>>4249570
>>4249572
>>4249573

Just one vote for Veller and we'll have a full house.

>>4249566
>>Re kel Cavamanse, heir to a noble family.

>>4249566
>Jorah Khadalit, cyberneticist.
>FRC: 3
>BDY: 2
>INT: 5
>PRS: 4
>Skills: Electronics, Medicine

>>4249566
>Re kel Cavamanse, heir to a noble family

>>4249566
Heir

>>4249570
+1

>>4249566
>Jorah Khadalit, cyberneticist.
>FRC: 3
>BDY: 2
>INT: 5
>PRS: 4
>Skills: Electronics, Medicine

>>4249582
>>4249575
>>4249572
>>4249586

As you take the stylus and look over your information, it comes back to you in a flash. You remember looking over the arcology for the first time as your father piloted a skiff through its spine, watching in wonderment as he drew a picture of a world in which every single thing worked in harmony with its surroundings. That image fascinated you, and though you were not his firstborn, you spent every waking moment working to better yourself so that you might one day be strong enough to manage his holdings as he had done. That was, before you received the summons.

You nod, and the Vurus woman smiles that too-wide smile again. "Ve-ry goood. The doctor will see you now. And- It is an honor, Ser Cavamanse."

A door opens, and a handsome man in a professional-looking coat beckons you inside. "Ser Cavamanse? We're ready for your physical."

You follow him, and the man leads you into a small room adorned with various types of diagnostic equipment, ranging from full-body scanners to handheld nanogel applicators. A full-length window allows light from the outside world to stream in, although you know you are invisible from the other side. A filigree chair of some silver metal sits in the center of the room, with an odd depression for a headrest.

"My name is Doctor Laen," the man says, as you step into the room. "And I cannot express my excitement that individuals of such pedigree and distinction as yourself have applied for the Lighthouse Program. We'll transport you to the facility in just a few minutes, but if you'll allow me I'd like to do a physical- of course, I'm certain that someone like you isn't carrying any pathogens, but it is procedure, ha ha."

His laughter trails off awkwardly.

"Ahem. If you'll just sit here..."

He motions to the chair, and you take a seat, feeling the cool metal touch your bare skin. Laen's eyes unfocus, and his fingers twitch as he manipulates the diagnostic machinery. For a moment, his eyes focus on you, and there is a sudden, unexplained sorrow in his eyes.

Cold metal piercing your flesh. Sudden intrusion of something alien into your bloodstream.

Laen's voice, further and further away. Your vision darkens. You sink into blackness.

"Forgive me, Lady Cavamanse..."

>>4249606
Movement. Subtle, but you notice it. It seems to go on for years. The slow rumble of a moving platform, the steady hum of a ship's drive. You spend what seems like an eternity with these sounds, and then just as suddenly they are gone. For a long time, you are cold, and dark, and alone.

The last thing you remember is feeling SOMETHING in the blackness, something distant, something old, something ALIEN. It is fast, and it is close, and you know without knowing that this thing wants you dead, and when it finds you there is nothing in the galaxy that will stop it from tearing you to atoms. It moves like a serpent through the darkness, and you are trapped like a butterfly under glass. You feel a great and terrible mass moving about you, and then, just as suddenly, it begins to leave.

You stop thinking.

>>4249615

An eon without sound, without sight, without touch. An eternity where all feeling has been suddenly stripped away, until you are a mind untethered in the ancient, merciless sky.

And just as suddenly, it ends. A deep nausea assaults you from a stomach you had forgotten you had. Your eyes ache. Your throat feels hoarse. You feel something like a thousand tiny worms retract themselves from your skin, and you would scream if you had the opportunity. But you are alive again.

The vat door opens, and you pitch forward onto the rubber floor. You vomit- once, then again, then you hold it down. Your eyes adjust to the sudden intrusion of light. You breathe in, you breathe out- then, you stand and look around.

You are in a small, circular room. Holoprojectors line the base of the wall, but they are not functioning. Behind you is some sort of coffin-like apparatus. You watch as wires retract back within ports in the coffin, and the entire machine closes and begins pulling itself into the floor. The lights above are a deep red, and strobe slowly.

There's someone talking, but you can't make out the words. You focus for a moment.

"-anse. I repeat, indicate if you are able to understand me, Citizen Cavamanse."

The voice is calm and androgynous. You can't seem to pinpoint its source.

>Write-In

>>4249638
> Nod head in affirmation

>>4249642
+1

>>4249638
Examine ourselves then answer yes

>>4249646
+1

>>4249646
>>4249642
>>4249645

You nod. "Yes, I understand you," you croak.

The voice practically bubbles with excitement. "Excellent!"

You take a moment to examine yourself. You are clad in some sort of skintight bodysuit, covered with tiny ports where you assume the wires entered your body earlier. From what you can gather, you look relatively unharmed. Your skin appears much more sallow than normal, but this doesn't seem immediately life-threatening.

"I am Ephesus, the governing VI for this space station. My job is to oversee the development and safety of the crewmembers on board, and help to insure that the Empire persists into our bright and glorious future."

There is a microsecond pause in which the VI simulates embarrassment.

"I must extend my sincerest apologies for the manner in which you have been reawakened from cryo. However, there is a matter I am unable to attend to that requires the intervention of a human crewmember."

>Write-In

>>4249668
What is the matter and why have you failed to resolve it?

>>4249668
Not much to do except look around and wait for a crew member

>>4249680
>>4249683

"When will you be defrosting a crewmember to deal with this?"

The VI simulates an awkward cough.

"My apologies. Let me elaborate on the matter at hand. This station uses a liquid-iron heat dispersal system which allows it to maintain homeostasic temperatures with the space around it for long periods of time. However, the system must release the accumulated molten iron periodically or else face critical overheating. I have been prepping the station for full awakening, but in doing so, I have found that my capabilities have been limited- by what, I am not currently able to assess. If the manual release is not triggered within six hours, the pressurized iron will destroy the heat release system, condemning the entire population of this station to slowly be, as you might put it, 'cooked alive.'"

"Allow me to transition to a note of congratulations: your psychological profile and ability to respond to stress has marked you as an ideal candidate for the Keeper of this station! Ideally, you would have more time to adjust to your new role, but circumstances dictate otherwise. I entirely understand the distress you are feeling, but I must advise the necessity of releasing this pressure as soon as possible. Once you are done orienting yourself, I can activate the lifts to take you to the manual release at your command."

>>4249701
>Write-In

>Sorry, still getting the hang of this. Bear with me.

>>4249705
Do some stretching and light exercises before getting on the lift I guess.

>>4249705
More prompts would be nice

>>4249705
" Tell me what I need to do, VI"

>>4249701
>alright guide me to the manual release

>>4249721
>>4249705
Supporting

>>4249705
>>4249718
>>4249719
>>4249721
>>4249722

"Call the lift."

You board the cramped lift, and rapidly ascend through the veins of the station. The lift is spacious, but dull, a nonfunctioning holoprojector in each corner of the room. You stretch your arms as the numbers on the lift panel rapidly climb.

"The manual release is located on the topside of the space station, in external scaffolding," Ephesus explains. "You will have to use a vaccum suit in order to access it. Regrettably, my ability to detect and arrest debris has been severly compromised, so there is a distinct possibility of intersecting with a micrometeorite swarm."

With your head clear, you realize that this might be one of your best opportunities to try and assess the situation.

>"Where am I?"
>"Why was I frozen?"
>"You mentioned other crewmen- where?"
>Write-In

>>4249736
Ask everything what do we have to lose

>>4249736
>"Where am I?"
>”How long was I out?”

>>4249736
>just ask for a basic explanation of why I'm here and where here is

>>4249745
+1

>>4249748

"Where am I? Why am I here? How long have I been out?"

You feel the hum of the lift begin to slow beneath your feet.

"You are in the Lighthouse Seven facility, located in orbit around the Jovian-type planetoid 19 Varagine C. Your personal excellence has lead the Empire to deem you an ideal candidate for the Lighthouse Program. You have been in cryo for approximately ERRORVALUEUNDEFINED years."

The VI seems to show no knowledge of its lapse in coherency as the doors slide open, revealing a spacious airlock. Multiple vacuum suits line the walls, each one positioned in a vertical diagnostic creche. One opens as you approach.

"Please enter the vaccum suit. Once you do, I will begin depressurizing the airlock."

>Do as the VI asks
>Refuse until it explains further
>Write-In

>>4249767
>Do as the VI asks
>ask what the suits function is

>>4249767
>Do as the VI asks
>Inspect the suit quickly looking for flaws

>>4249779
+1

>>4249779
support

>>4249779
>>4249776

You do as the VI asks, making a note to carefully inspect the suit as you do so. It looks like a standard-issue vacuum suit, no different from the ones you were accustomed to back home. The air tank hovers at 92%, the fuel tank at 89%. You don't notice any sort of rips or damages. It looks like it's never been used. You feel confident that it's in a workable condition, although confidence is in short supply at the moment.

As the helmet seals lock, a hiss announces the beginning of the airlock's depressurization cycle. The suit's HUD flashes online- flickers, flashes out, back again. It remains stable after that.

The airlock hisses open, and you take your first steps outside.

You survey your surroundings. The ground around you is made of grey stone, and as you walk your boots kick up miniature explosions of dust that slowly fall back to the ground. Recessed into the ground around you at regular intervals are vast pits containing an ocean of shining solar arrays, each positioned towards the sky. In the distance, you see a small tower overlooking another large, regularly shaped pit, although you can't see what's at the bottom.

You look up into the sky, and see a massive red mass floating in the dark above, so big that for a moment you're convinced it must be a dying sun. But as the filters of the suit adjust, you begin to make out the individual tendrils of cloud that coil and twist angrily within the thing. This must be the Jovian-class.

Ephesus's voice speaks in your ear, strangely rough and difficult to pick out. "The release valve is at the top of the tower. You will have to reach there."

>Walk towards the tower
>Use your boosters to maneuver yourself towards it.
>Attempt to use your sensors.
>Write-In

>>4249804
>>Attempt to use your sensors.
At the very least get a better idea of the terrain.

>>4249810
You bring up the suit's sensor array- only to be met with a barrage of useless static. The sensor array seems to be completely bricked. You'll need to use your eyes if you want to scout.

Make an INT check. Your INT value is 4.

>QM's note: To make checks, roll a number of dice equal to the relevant attribute's value plus any relevant skills. A 6 is a success.

>>4249804
>>Attempt to use your sensors.

Rolled 2 (1d6)

>>4249815

>>4249815
Okay so four dice, but what kind?

>>4249820
D6. Sorry, my bad.

Rolled 3, 5, 1, 2 = 11 (4d6)

>>4249832
Do you wish to push your roll?

>QM's note: When you push your roll, you can reroll any dice that did not come up a 1 or a 6. However, you take trauma equal to the number of 1s rolled across both rolls.

>>4249835
Nah ill take the roll as is.

>>4249837
This will mean you fail- are you OK with that?

Rolled 5 (1d6)

>>4249815
Don't be greedy anon. Let others roll too.

>>4249862
I have no idea how the QM prefers it. The dice mechanics remain somewhat unclear.

>>4249864
I am also confused. Next four posters roll one dice- that's the check.

Rolled 3 (1d6)

>>4249865
Very well.

Rolled 2 (1d6)

Rolled 1 (1d6)

>>4249865

Rolled 4, 1, 6, 2 = 13 (4d6)

>>4249867
>>4249883
>>4249889

Alright, this is too much of a delay. New system: rolls are first come, first served, next players get to decide whether or not to push. Rolling.

>>4249942

You manually take control of the filters, and carefully survey the surrounding area. The light from the gas giant makes manually sighting things difficult, but after a moment you catch a glimpse of something glittering in the distance- micrometeorites.

You hurry and almost jump back inside the airlock before the storm hits. A hail of tiny impacts strikes the building, rattling the roof and leaving impacts you can feel through your suit. Outside is a mess of dust. If you hadn't noticed, you're not certain you'd be alive right now.

You wait until there haven't been any more impacts, and step outside once more. The dust is beginning to settle. Looking down into the pits, you see that many of the solar arrays have been hit badly by the impact, black glass falling gently to earth.

The climb is, from that point, without incident. The whole of the station is laid out beneath you- a sprawling complex set into the side of an asteroid. The main hub appears to be a vast circular opening that reaches into the bowels of the rock, so deep that you can't see the bottom. Rocket dock, you guess.

You reach the top, and find a small control panel. Above one of the buttons is a small label reading 'MANUAL HEAT VENT'.

You press it, and all at once jets of a crimson fluid burst from beneath the pit, bubbling and forming into globules in the microgravity. At first you think that the station is bleeding- then, you realize it's just the light reflected from the gas giant. The iron is released.

Ephesus's voice chirps through your headset. "Congratulations, Keeper Cavamanse! Were the other crewmen capable of concious thought, I'm sure they'd say something similar. Return to the central bridge."

You sit down and take a moment to catch your breath. You could do as Ephesus asks, or you could take time to reorient yourself.

>Return to the bridge
>"What's a 'Keeper?'"
>"You said this was Lighthouse Seven- are there more?"
>"Where is the Varagine system in relation to the Empire?"
>Write-In

>>4249981
>>Return to the bridge
>>"What's a 'Keeper?'"
>>"Where is the Varagine system in relation to the Empire?"

>>4249981
>"Why is it called a 'Lighthouse'?"

>>4249991
+1

>>4250000
also this

>>4249991
+1

>>4249991
Support

>>4250000
>>4249991
>>4250005
>>4250008
>>4250009

You descend the ladder and begin the arduous task of navigating through the station. When you return, the strobing has ceased, although the lights still shine a deep red. The lift descends, travelling down the spine of the vast complex.

"Ephesus, where is the Varagine system in relation to the rest of the Empire?"

There is silence.

"Ephesus?"

After a moment, the VI's voice returns, synthesizing a slight reluctance. "...my apologies, Keeper Cavamanse. The Varagine system is located in what you would consider the furthest fringes of Imperial space, but the question as phrased has multiple answers. There are documents in the central bridge that will answer your questions."

The lift slows to a halt, and you step into a large circular room. Holoprojectors line the walls, all silent. The center of the room is occupied by a thronelike chair, in front of which is an archaic manual terminal. Several smaller terminals circle the throne. It seems as if this was designed for overseeing the entirety of the station at once.

"Keeper Cavamanse, there is a document left for new Keepers. Should I play it?"

You nod. The lights dim, and a panel slides from the ceiling, revealing a holoprojector on an arm. The lens flickers to life, and standing beside the throne appears a man it takes you a moment to recognize as Doctor Laen. It seems like it's been no time at all since you've last seen him, but he seems much older than he was when he spoke to you- much more haggard. Part of the projection is failing, and half of Laen's face is in a constant state of flux- streams of color constantly burning away as if he were being consumed.

>>4250064

"If you're viewing this, it means we've failed, and I am dead. The Threat was as our gravest projections predicted. The Lighthouses are all that's left."

He steps towards you, then through you, pacing aimlessly.

"I can't follow you, unfortunately. My body- too old. Won't handle the cryosleep. It's up to you now, Keeper, whoever you are. Your training, everything you've been through- it's all been for this. You, and the twenty-five thousand sleepers under your custody are the inheritors of the Empire."

Something dark crosses Laen's face, and he stops for a moment. When he returns, it's slow, without emotion.

"Practically, you'll... uh, be in charge of managing revivals. The station is self-sufficient- it has to be. We can't ship too much across without attracting notice. You'll manage development, unfreezing, adapting the Lighthouse's capabilities to whatever the new world demands. You're the director of this project from now on- don't fuck it up."

He turns, and almost looks you directly in the eye. The effect is uncanny- he sees through you.

"If you haven't already, your first priority should be to contact the Thirteenth Lighthouse using your Ansible. That's where the royal family is, and they'll be dictating you going forward. More things change, ah? I suppose you're something of a lord now, technically. Congratulations."

Laughter. Bitter.

"I would say goodbye, but I'm already dead. I'll say good luck, instead."

He frowns, and then vanishes. The light returns.

Ephesus speaks. "Keeper Cavamanse, I am prepared to initiate the revival process of more of those in cryosleep. I can advise specific candidates whose profiles show the highest potential for command."

>Run system diagnostic
>Access local mapping
>Initiate Revival Process
>Write-In

>>4250076
>>Run system diagnostic
>>Access local mapping

Can we contact Lighthouse 13 yet?

>>4250102
+1

>>4250102
>>4250118

You sit in the terminal. The interface is crude and outdated, but after a few moments of acclimating to the interface you manage to run a scan of the Lighthouse's subsystems.

>Beginning diagnostic...
>Running diagnostic...
>Running diagnostic...
>Running diagnostic...
>Diagnostic complete.

>Power Supply: Minimal
>Atmosphere Regulation: Minimal
>Biomass Vats: Minimal
>Drones: Minimal
>Fabrication: Minimal
>EM Shielding: Critical Damage
>Communications: Critical Damage
>16 Kestrel Class Skiffs responsive
>350,000 Liters of Helium-3
>Estimated 18,500 cryosleep subjects viable for reanimation
>Manual assessment required for more detailed data

Accessing the local map pulls up a simplistic wireframe model of the local system. Lighthouse Seven is marked as a small cross orbiting a large gas giant, orbited by a small dashed line you assume represents some sort of asteroid belt. Three other planets are also marked- two Neptunian-type worlds and one Terran-type world.

Ephesus speaks. "It appears that Junction Seven's electromagnetic shielding has been severely compromised. I suspect this is responsible for the widespread electronic failures we have observed across the station."

>Ask about revivals
>Ask about status as a Keeper
>Ask about Threat
>Write-in

>Revive sleepers
>

>>4250177
Woops. Ignore those last two lines.

>>4250177
>Ask about revivals
>Ask about Threat

>>4250177
>>Ask about revivals
>>Ask about the Terran type world
>>Ask about Threat

>>4250190
>>4250186

"Ephesus, what do the logs note about the Terran-type planet in the local system?"

"19 Varagine A. Terra-type world, 0.8g, silicon/aluminum crust, primarily nitrogen/carbon dioxide atmosphere. World uninhabited as of last survey IE 725."

You frown. A dead world. Not much help. "The Doctor mentioned a Threat- do we know what that is? Is there any data available?"

"This data is classified."

"Even to the Keeper?"

"This data is classified."

You feel the urge to bash your head against the monitor. The situation feels utterly helpless.

"Ephesus, who are the prime candidates for revival?"

"The following candidates have been identified as prime subjects for a command role, or else skilled in a technical aspect that might be of use."

>Captain Elden Mul, understanding of defense and military tactics

>Veller Brynsea, high aptitude for organization and leadership

>Jorah Khadalit, specialist in computer science

>Yeret Lorn, accomplished surgeon and doctor

>Soa Delat, sensors specialist

"It may be advisable to revive them one at a time, as to prevent mass panic."

>>4250203
First
>Jorah Khadalit, specialist in computer science
Then
>Soa Delat, sensors specialist

Gotta fix the systems first

>>4250203
>>Jorah Khadalit, specialist in computer science
We need shields online, after that everything else.
Veller will be massive help as we start waking up more people to help with repairs

>>4250237

+1

>>4250237
>Jorah Khadalit, specialist in computer science

>>4250203
>>Jorah Khadalit, specialist in computer science

>>4250203
>Soa Delat, sensors specialist

>>4250237
>>4250269
>>4250272
>>4250291
>>4250317

Gonna call this one for tonight because I gotta sleep. We'll defrost Jorah come the morn.

>>4250337

"Begin the revival process for Khadalit."

"Understood. Revival beginning immediately."

Somewhere deep within the bowels of the ship, a cryopod moves into position. In the time you have spare, you take a moment to scrounge together some sort of basic uniform from a large floor you assume to be a layer of dorms. It's slightly too big for you, and made of a material that doesn't sit well against your flesh, but it's far preferable to the sickening confines of the cryosuit.

You make your way down towards the bay. You return to the room you first woke up in, what seems like days ago but you know logically is scarcely a few hours. Lying against one wall is a man- young, dark-skinned, tall, bald. One of his eyes is of a slightly different color than the other, and you realize with a start after a moment that it's mechanical. He looks up at you as you approach.

"...Re, right? The machine told me about you. Is this... gods damn it, is any of this real?"

>Professional
>Empathetic, but maintain distance
>Empathize
>Write-In

>>4250884
>maintain distance

>>4250884
>Empathetic, but maintain distance

>>4250884
>>Empathetic, but maintain distance

>>4250884
>Empathetic, but maintain distance
>Hope you're ready to help rebuild from scratch on a dead world.

>>4250896
+1

>>4250886
>>4250887
>>4250891
>>4250896

You take a step towards the man, kneeling down to meet his eye at your level.

"Engineer Khadalit, this situation is... unconventional, for both of us, and your confusion is entirely understandable. However, right now, there's essential work that needs to be done, not only for our sake, but for the thousands preserved in cryosleep. I am unable to do it on my own. Will you help me?"

The man's eyes seem to unfocus for a moment, staring at something that you don't see, and then he nods, rising to his feet.

"...yes. Yes. I'll help, Keeper Cavamanse."

He stands, rubbing his wrist where the cryosuit meets flesh. "I heard about the EM shielding. Assessing the central processing system of the station should be first priority- see how far the damage has gone. I'll head down to take a look myself."

He turns to leave. Before he walks out the door, he turns and stares at you for a moment.

"Keeper Cavamanse- in your own words, how do you put our odds?"

>Good
>Bad
>My opinion is irrelevant
>I don't know
>Write-In

>>4250903
>"I do not know, but I believe we will be fine as long as we put in our full effort."

>>4250912
Support. Lets keep things inspirational

>>4250903
>>4250912
Also, we don't have enough of a grasp on the whole situation yet; part of why we woke him up.

>>4250912
>>4250917
>>4250920

"I do not know, Engineer Khadalit. I'm still assessing the situation myself. However, I know that the only thing we're capable of doing now is moving forward. We'll make our own odds."

Jorah considers this for a moment, and you can see in his face that he respects your answer. He nods, then disappears into the lift.

You take the next few hours exploring the station. From the looks of it, the station has little stockpiled- instead, reliant upon countless onboard manufacturing facilities to produce whatever the sleeping crew needed at the time. With most holoprojectors down, the effect is claustrophobic- labrynthine metal tunnels lacing beneath tons of heavy iron in the midst of a great and cold void. The level of electronic interference you see around you makes you incredibly glad that the cryogenic system managed to survive- although, from the disparity between the number of cryogenic pods Laen listed and the number the computer marked as 'viable for reanimation', you're guessing that it wasn't without casualties. The thought makes you profoundly uncomfortable.

After some time, Jorah's voice comes through the PA system. "Keeper? I'm finished with my assessment."

You head down to the central computing bay. Jorah stands in a small room before a series of monolithic black pillars, each with a small readout screen located at eye level. He is pacing with a frown on his face as you enter.

He looks up. "I wish I had more good news for you, Keeper. The situation is worse than I thought. The amount of damage these systems has sustained is... astronomical. Almost the entirety of the data stored within the station has been scrambled- that's logs, data, fabplans, firmware for vats- everything."

He rubs his eyes with two fingers. "We'll have to triage the few things on the ship that aren't completely fried. Fortunately, the actual scrambling of the data follows what looks like a fairly consistent pattern, so, it's possible that I could build some sort of algorithm to restore the data we've lost to a previous state. I'd need serious proccessing power, however, and a research team, besides."

Jorah takes a step towards you, now looking almost conspiratorial. "Listen- from the damage I've seen, Ephesus should not be able to operate right now, much less maintain the station. It's like- the human equivalent of having the back of your skull blown out. The fact that it's still online seems impossible."

He takes a step back, professional distance regained. "Anyway, the way I see it, our priority now should be to revive a skeleton crew and get to work on repairing that EM shielding module. It won't bring back the data, but at the very least it'll staunch the bleeding. Of course, it's all up to you, Keeper. What do you think our first priority should be?"

>Shoring up supplies
>Increasing fabrication capacity
>Repairing EM shield
>Surveying local system
>Write-in

>>4250950
>Repairing EM shield

>>4250950
>Repairing EM shield

>>4250950
>repairing the shield

>>4250950
>Repairing EM shield

Hes the expert

>>4250950
>>Repairing EM shield

>>4250950
>>Repairing EM shield
>Hmmm I'd love to cum in OPs mouth

>>4251066
>>4250972
>>4250955
>>4250952
>>4251141
>>4251143


"Repairing the shield is first, if the damage to these logs are as severe as you say."

Jorah nods. "Then we should spend time prepping this place for an influx of new people. That kind of project is going to take a lot of manpower."

The two of you spend the next few hours attempting to restore the bridge into the command center it was intended to be. You take index of the supplies found in depots scattered around the station- jumpsuits, emergency medical equipment, personal power generators, freeze-dried food, guns, spare tanks of oxygen. As Ephesus begins the arduous process of unfreezing the sleepers, you decide to take another look at the state of the station and assess what you have and what you lack.

>QM's Note: The station has five DEV values you will need to manage:

>RSC: Resources, an abstraction of your food, water, air, and power.
>IND: Industry, your industrial capacity and ability to produce tools and equipment.
>DEF: Defense, your station's ability to respond to outside threats.
>TEC: Technology, your level of development and recovered logs.
>HPE: Hope, the general level of morale aboard the station.

>You have 15 points to distribute between these five attributes. Attributes can be set at zero, although this will have consequences.

>>4251156
>RSC 3
>IND 3
>DEF 2
>TEC 4
>HPE 3

as long as the data and technology is mostly recovered, we can build more defences and stuff.

>>4251156
>RSC: 4
>IND: 2
>DEF: 3
>TEC: 4
>HPE: 2

>>4251166
Ill support this, defense can be built up later

>>4251156
>RSC 3
>IND 4
>DEF 2
>TEC 4
>HPE 2

Hope can also be raised later

>>4251187

This one is better

> and so is cumming in OPs mouth

>>4251187
+1

>>4251187
Don't want people to get funny ideas about our leadership tho

>>4251166
Support we need hope to keep people at work

>>4251187

Your assessment notes that the fabricators are most intact- the large-scale units are irreperably damaged, and your capabilities are a shadow of what they once might've been, but upon a cursory glance Jorah declares that much of the mining drones can be repaired with a little work.

However, this is also met with an unwelcome relevation- many of the power cells for the coilguns have been leaking, rendering them completely nonfunctioning. You'll need to fabricate more- something you're currently unable to do given what facilities are currently available.

When the revival process is done, you call the group up to your bridge. They are a disheveled looking bunch of men and women, many bearing the elongated frames typical of those who have spent a long time in space. Many look around themselves with a frightened cast to their faces, as disoriented and unsettled by their new surroundings as you are.

You'll need to organize them, somehow, and establish your authority.

>Tell them the truth, as unvarnished as possible
>Sugarcoat things a bit
>Establish dominance, invoke the Empire
>Write-In

>>4251487
>be INSPIRING, make them want to make their situation better!

>>4251496
+1

>>4251487
>>Establish dominance, invoke the Empire
+inspire

>>4251505
>switching to this

>>4251505
Support

>>4251496
>>4251504
>>4251505
>>4251511
>>4251521

Make a PRS check. You can use your Imperial History skill to modify it, raising your value up to 7. Reminder- first to respond rolls all four dice, second to respond can choose to push or not.

>>4251566
What kind of dice?

>>4251568
D6, sorry again. I'll make sure to specify that. All checks in this system will use D6.

Rolled 5, 5, 1, 6 = 17 (4d6)

>>4251566

>>4251582
I'll take this roll. But shouldn't we roll a 5d6 since we have a 5 on PRS? We succeeded anyways so I'm fine with this for now.

>>4251587
i am not very good at managing this system yet

>>4251592
Does more than 1 6s increase the degree of success?

>>4251592
>>4251521
>>4251511
>>4251505
>>4251504
>>4251496

As the crowd settles, the eyes of your new crew turn onto you. You stand on the plinth upon which the central throne is set, drawing all eyes naturally towards yourself. You clear your throat, and begin to speak.

"My name is Re kel Cavamanse. I was born in the third arcology of Cordwainer, in the Paran binary, in the heart of the greatest Empire the galaxy has ever known.

That same Empire has now entrusted me with the custodianship of this station, with the promise that it will be essential to the future of that great and mighty civilization. There is much I do not know. I do not know why I was chosen- I do not know what danger we face, and I do not know what tribulations we must go through before our great task is complete. But the Empire has given me everything, and so in turn I will give everything to the Empire. But I must have companions."

You survey the crowd for a moment before continuing.

"I ask that you follow me, that you give your bodies and minds to the service of the Empire as I will. We have been entrusted with a great and noble duty to our homeland, and the Empire has elected us from the masses of the trillions of souls in its dominion to ensure that it will succeed. I have faith in the guiding grace of the Royal Family, and I have faith in this project. Let us begin our work."

The speech seems to go over well with much of the crowd. Some of the confusion has ebbed from their faces, and they seem more receptive to following your orders now. One man breaks through the mass of people- tall, broad-shouldered, perhaps 110. You recognize him as Caeledan Xa, but his file tells you little of use.

"Apologies, Keeper, but I am confused by your statements. You are the Keeper of this station, but by whose authority? The Empire's, the VI's, or your own?"

>The Empire
>Ephesus
>Myself
>By the authority of all of us
>Write-In

>>4251620
>Myself

>>4251620
Doctor Laen himself said "You're the director of this project from now on- don't fuck it up."
>The Empire

>>4251620
The empire gave us the authority but it is no more so we have full authority now.

>>4251720
The Royal Family is still extant, so the Empire still exists.

>>4251620
>The Empire

>>4251781
>>4251720
>>4251644
>>4251633

"The Empire has chosen to invest their faith in my. I am made Keeper by their will alone."

Caeledan crosses his broad arms and nods his head, apparently satisfied, if not neccesarily happy by this answer. "Very well."

You give a few rudimentary instructions to the crowd, and it disperses slowly, heading for various subsectors around the Lighthouse facility. Jorah moves to your side, carrying a datapad he's managed to scavenge that somehow managed to survive past the station-wide EM surge. "I'll instruct our teams in repairing the shielding once we've finished assessing the station and getting our central structure online. Managing a team is... not something I'm good at. I'll rely on you for co-ordination on a large scale, like you just did. Hopefully that swayed them, but..."

Jorah sighs. "Keeper, the situation doesn't look good morale-wise. The people that built the facility expected us to just... work like drones, but we're not nearly organized enough for that to happen. Some of these people have never even been to a core world, much less served the Empire in any real way."

"Anything we can do about that?"

He shrugs. "Getting the holos back up might help. This place feels much colder without them. Apart from that... well. There are painkillers in what's left of the medbay, but I don't know if we're there yet. We're expected to be an army, but we're just not."

>QM's note- Just taking a moment to ask for some feedback on the quest. I've been asked for more direction, but I worry that this limits the creativity exhibited here, which is something I want to foster. The Lighthouse is intended to be YOUR facility, and I don't want it to feel like you're limited to only picking the red, blue, or green option- especially not when I can't help compare this to Mass Effect in my head anyway. Also, limiting this to branching paths has been difficult to write for me, leading to some of the slowdown. I'm incredibly new to this, and I want to do more, but any feedback you have would be appreciated.

>"We need to institute a stronger hierarchy."
>"We need to unfreeze another official."
>"We need to do what we can to shore up morale."
>Write-In

>>4252136
>>"We need to do what we can to shore up morale."

The options are simply one of the many possible paths QM. If players feel that its inadequate they would find a new path. Right now I don't see a better path so I vote for something in the options.
For something less limiting though, can we read our own personal file? Age, background. history, family, capabilities and all that.

>>4252136
>>"We need to institute a stronger hierarchy."
>>"We need to do what we can to shore up morale."

We need to remind them of why they were chosen and the sacred duty they now bear to preserve the Empire.

>>4252229
>>4252185

I'm probably gonna call it for tonight while I work to refine the mechanics and choices. More lighthouse in the morning.

>>4252229
+1

>>4252136
>>4252229
+1

Love the quest so far. Its writing is a lot better than most starting quests. It would be nice to have more info on the Empire and our characters background so it can influence our decisions and where we want to go in the future.

Good fun so far, great considering you are new at it. I wouldnt worry about creativity, its best to wait for one of us to come up with a great write than force it by not providing any options on your end.

>>4252529
>>4253072
>>4253134

Hey, so this is gonna be out of character for me, but I've had some thoughts as to how I want to engage with this moving forward. I'm enthusiastic about continuing, but I jumped into actual posting without establishing a real plan as to where and how I wanted this quest to progress in the short term- (don't worry, I have plans for the long term.) I'm gonna take a break for a few days to iron things out while I come up with a plan as to how I want to progress, to make sure I can present Lighthouse Quest in the best possible light it can be presented.

I'm not aiming for anything super long term, and I should be back to posting by the weekend, but I'm gonna use the next couple days to look at where the story is right now, take on some feedback, and hopefully return with a far improved quest. I should be posting again by the weekend. Thanks for being patient with me while I iron this out.

>>4253239
No problem man, thanks for the heads up. Same thread? It will still be on the board this weekend.

>>4253241
Most likely.

bump. please don't let cool gaem die.

>>4258770
Seconded. This is an interesting quest.

>>4258770
would be a real shame

File: spacestation.jpg (186 KB, 1600x766)

186 KB JPG

>>4258770
>>4259134
>>4259741

>Cool gaem back, my friends.
>Note- at any point, you can ask about an all-caps term to get all the information your character would realistically have access to on it.

Your name is RE KEL CAVAMANSE, and you have had a bad few days. Called to an Imperial core world on the basis of recruitment into some sort of merit program, you have instead been kidnapped and placed into cryosleep for an indeterminate amount of time. Upon waking, you have been press-ganged into service as the commander of a 'Lighthouse Facility', a group of space stations positioned as the Empire's last ditch effort to survive a Threat of an unknown nature. You have been aided in your management by the ship's VI, EPHESUS, as well as JORAH KHADALIT, a cyberneticist who now fills the role of your chief engineering officer.

Right now, all your efforts are devoted to repairing the EM SHIELDING, something that should hopefully end the bleed-off of data that an endless storm of radiation has caused. You've recruited a skeleton crew of about 20 or so mechanics, among them CAELEDAN XA, a mysterious and somewhat confrontational man whose work has nonetheless been excellent thus far. Now, the spacers operate in 5-man shifts, each repairing the external field projectors with parts scrounged from defective manufacturing robots and spare power cores. It's not ideal, but the progress is steady, and you estimate you'll have the defenses back online within a few days.

You're at your desk when Jorah walks in. Your office is set apart slightly from the rest of the crew quarters, divided equally into a small cabin and a workspace where viewscreens allow you to assess the condition of the Lighthouse. The ones that work, anyway- the rest have taken severe damage and are no more than scrap now. Your chief engineer is tall, and he looks at the very least physically fit, and yet he carries himself with some reluctance, as if his body doesn't fit him well.

"Keeper," he says. "Can I speak to you for a moment?"

>Greet him casually. You don't have time for rank, here- the quicker you can get Jorah to trust you, the better.
>Greet him semi-casually. Remind him of your rank, but don't push it. Keep the structure, but show your humanity.
>Business only. You're the boss- the faster you can establish a relationship of command, the better.

>>4260250
>Greet him casually. You don't have time for rank, here- the quicker you can get Jorah to trust you, the better.
We’re a last ditch to preserve humanity rank can be kept aside for now

>>4260250
>semi-cajj
Subtle flex is important, we gotta maintain a firm but loving grip.

>>4260278
You are a noble, and he is a commoner. Tradition would dictate that the division of rank is maintained between you. Tradition would also dictate that you weren't stranded far from the ruins of a long-dead Empire, in a universe suddenly turned cold and hostile and filled with unknowns of potentially catastrophic effect, but then the situation has changed.

"Jorah," you say. "Come in. What do you have for me?"

Jorah produces a datapad from the fold of his coat. It's archaic, but it's what you've been able to scrounge up that hasn't had its insides cooked.

"Excuse my breach of protocol, Keeper, but I've taken the liberty of modifying some of the lens apparatuses on the vislight scanners on the exterior of the station. We don't have Ansible up yet, but I've been able to refit some of these into a rudimentary telescope, which I've been using to survey the nearby system. It's much slower than it would be, but it's what we have at the moment. And while I was scanning, I found... this."

He taps the pad twice, and puts it on your desk. The image it displays is incredibly grainy, but set out against the dark of space you see an oblong form, tapering at one end, the other projecting some sort of fillament that shimmers half-visible against the black.

You look at him, and you can see something quietly manic in his eyes. He's eager for an escape from the monotony of manual labor, you can tell. "I think it's a spacecraft. What do you think?"

>"I think I agree." If he's right, this could be huge.
>"I think we can't say for sure yet." You need to temper this. False hope can be dangerous, and it's too indistinct to say for sure.
>"I think you need more sleep, Jorah." That doesn't look anything like a ship. Try and get him to focus on his health- you need him coherent.
>Write-In

Is this thread sinking permanently, btw? Shame if so.

>>4260250
>Greet him casually. You don't have time for rank, here- the quicker you can get Jorah to trust you, the better.

>>4260339
>"I think we can't say for sure yet." You need to temper this. False hope can be dangerous, and it's too indistinct to say for sure.
It could be simply a space object. We can't tell unless it emits a signature to identify itself.

Yeah it's past the five days bump limit.

>>4260347

Too bad. What's protocol here- just wait for it to pass the event horizon?

>>4260339
>"I think we can't say for sure yet." You need to temper this. False hope can be dangerous, and it's too indistinct to say for sure.

>>4260358
It's a slow board, play as normal but be ready to archive and post a new thread when the time comes.

>>4260358
There's no rule for anything really but usually it becomes acceptable to create a new thread once you go down to around page 6.

>>4260339
>"I think we can't say for sure yet." You need to temper this. False hope can be dangerous, and it's too indistinct to say for sure.

>>4260347
>>4260363

"I think we can't say for sure yet. We're not dealing with the Empire anymore- we don't know what's out there."

Jorah nods a little too quickly. "Exactly. And that's why- with your permission- I want to organize a survey team to board one of the skiffs and investigate the object."

The skiffs are Kestrel-class- tiny, little more than puddle-jumpers, good for transit within planetary systems and little else. From what you can discern, it was assumed that the Lighthouse Facilities would have the equipment needed to manufacture larger ships immediately out of cryosleep. Obviously, this wasn't the case. You haven't completed a full survey of them yet, but your helium-3 reserves are more than enough to accomplish the task. However, judging by the damage to the rest of the station, it seems reasonable to assume that many of the skiffs' more complex electronic components are unworkable- namely, advanced avionics.

Jorah continues on before you can comment. "If it's a ship- then there could potentially be comms equipment that we could use to repair the Ansible. Alternatively, their drive could still be intact- not to mention the potential tools left behind. Depending on how functional its EM shielding is, of course, or else how long it's been in range of that gas giant..."

He coughs, seemingly righting himself. "Keeper, this may be beyond my station, but I think it might be best if you personally accompanied the expedition. I've spoke to the mechanics- there isn't anyone among them who has your aptitude for command. Maybe Xa- but to be frank, I'm not entirely sure I trust him. Besides- if the ship is... inhabited, you would be the best one to conduct first contact."

>"I'll accompany you." The crew will be safest under your watchful eye.
>"I won't accompany you." It's far too dangerous.
>"I don't believe I gave permission for this to go forward. I'll approve it, but remember yourself." Assert command. The plan is good, but you are Jorah's superior officer here, and he needs to remember that.
>"I don't believe I gave permission for this to go forward. This plan is far too risky." Assert command. There are too many unknowns here.
>Write-In

also I'm gonna be out for a bit so it might be an hour or two before my next post.

>>4260392
>"I'll accompany you." The crew will be safest under your watchful eye.
It’s not like we are doing much other sitting on our ass right now waiting for shielding to be done

>>4260392
Oh, could I also get a PRS check please? That’s 5d6.

Rolled 1, 3, 2, 4, 5 = 15 (5d6)

>>4260403
Posting now but do you want them during the vote or after?

>>4260392
>>"I don't believe I gave permission for this to go forward. I'll approve it, but remember yourself." Assert command. The plan is good, but you are Jorah's superior officer here, and he needs to remember that.

>>4260392
>>"I don't believe I gave permission for this to go forward. I'll approve it, but remember yourself." Assert command. The plan is good, but you are Jorah's superior officer here, and he needs to remember that.

>>4260398
>>4260415
>>4260421

"I don't believe I gave permission for this to go forward, Engineer Khadalit. I'll approve it, but remember yourself."

Jorah shrinks a little. "Ah- my apologies, Captain- er, Keeper Cavamanse. I'll keep that in mind next time. I'll get to preparing some of my sensor equipment for the trip. Permission to be dismissed?"

"Granted. Dismissed."

Jorah gives a quick salute and disappears through the door to your office. As he does so, you tap a few symbols on your desk and activate the PA system.

"This is Keeper Cavamanse. Requesting any available personnel near the hangar assess the capabilities of docked skiffs. Run a full diagnostic checkup on the avionics. Any personnel not currently involved in a task, please assemble in Mess Hall A. Keeper Cavamanse out."

You board the lift and watch as the station blurs past. You take a moment to consider the size of the complex- the immensity of the task lain upon your shoulders. There are thousands lying dead in the walls of this place. Without your help, they will never wake. For an instant, your mind flashes back to that terrible, eternal darkness, and you almost need to brace yourself against the wall for a moment before you are ready to proceed.

Mess Hall A is one of the largest rooms on the ship- a massive place designed for a thousand but only seating twenty-three. You can tell by the way it's designed that it might've been ornate with the holos up, but without them the space gives off an uncomfortably cryptlike mood. Assembled before you are thirteen of your mechanics, in various states of formal dress- some fully zipped up in Imperial jumpsuits, others wearing only the legs, others still with modified and recut clothing to better suit them. Xa is among them, his dark eyes watching you carefully.

Without a direct podium to address your audience, you instead crawl up onto a table in order to see the whole of the crowd.

"I am looking for volunteers for an expedition," you say. "No more than three. Chief Engineer Khadalit has discovered a..."

>"Spacecraft." Easier to convince people that way, and might get morale up.
>"Potentially manmade object." Don't oversell it. Be honest.
>"Object of interest." You'll keep the exact details under wraps until you're absolutely sure.

>>4260547
>"Potentially manmade object." Don't oversell it. Be honest.

>>4260547
>>"Potentially manmade object." Don't oversell it. Be honest.

>>4260547
>>"Potentially manmade object." Don't oversell it. Be honest.

>>4260547
>object of intrest

>>4260392
>"I don't believe I gave permission for this to go forward.
>"That said it's a sound plan and I shall approve accompany you"
He needs a reminder of the chain of command but we shouldn't discourage initiative

>>4260554
>>4260555
>>4260572

"...a potentially manmade object which warrants our investigation. Engineer Khadalit and I will take one of the Kestrels and hail the ship, conducting an EVA boarding if the situation requires. If you are willing to assist, step forward."

There's something of a commotion amongst the crowd, but no one steps forward for a moment. Then, Xa steps in front of the rest of the crowd.

"I volunteer," he rumbles. At this, something seems to break in the crowd, and two more figures step forward, a lanky man and a short woman with her hair cropped short around her head.

"Svadia Gotr, reporting for duty," says the woman.

"And I'm Kaionval Daro, sir," the man responds.

You nod. "You three- meet me in the hangar in half an hour. The rest of you, dismissed."

You take the next thirty minutes to prepare yourself. You take a quick shower, followed by a short meal in your room. Both are fairly meager fare- the shower is automatically cut after three minutes to preserve water, and the meal is some sort of dense rehydrated protein that looks like it's been freeze-dried for centuries, and tastes like it, too. Still, it's better than nothing, especially considering you don't know how long you'll be out there. Ideally, it shouldn't be more than a few hours away from the Lighthouse- but, well. If there's one thing the last few days has taught you, it's to rely on nothing.

>>4260715
You take the lift down to the hangar bay. The Kestrel-class sits on a launchpad, a thin white pyramid balanced atop three wide drive cones. The airlock is open, projecting a ramp downwards onto the cool metal scaffolding of the bay. Jorah stands there, talking with a tech you haven't seen before. As you approach, the tech notices, and waves you over.

"How are the Kestrels?"

The tech chews something in her mouth- likely a bit of bioplastic from the mess hall. As she talks, you notice that her teeth are stained a slight red.

"It's a mixed bag. Most of the primary systems- atmo, life support, thrusters, control, all that looks A-OK, but the avionics are fucked." She blinks, seemingly realizing the difference in rank between you two. "Uh. That is. The avionics are fucked, Keeper."

"What does that mean for us?"

"Well, practically, it means that we'll have to run this thing off manual control, which hasn't been in common practice for a while- not outside of the military, anyway. Unless you can unfreeze some hotshot ace-"

"I can fly it," Jorah says.

The tech blinks. All eyes turn on him, something he's clearly not entirely comfortable with.

"Y-yes. Self taught, but I can fly."

The tech smiles languidly. "Rare skill. If you're some deep-cover HAND type, then you've been holding out on me."

Jorah turns to you. "There's another issue. Kestrels come standard with anti-personnel weaponry in the cargo bay. I've retrofitted scanning equipment we could use, but we'd have to replace the weapons cache. Which should we prioritize?"

>Take the weapons. You don't know what's out there.
>Take the scanners. Information gathering is essential.
>Access log file on: the Hand
>Write-In

>>4260724
>Access log file on: the Hand
>Take the scanners. Information gathering is essential.

>>4260747
+1

>>4260747
Support

>>4260747

>Log File: Imperial Intelligence.

Under the reign of Aldenanth VI, the broad range of intelligence organizations that had until that point been tasked with monitoring the rapidly expanding Empire were consolidated into the Imperial Guard, consisting of three groups: the Hand, the Eye, and the Mouth. Each is tasked with a different role, and each is directly beholden to the Emperor, rather than to any of his appointed vassals. The Hand is concerned with field operations, eliminating any potential threat to the safety of the Empire before it has the opportunity to emerge. The Eye are concerned with gathering information, infiltrating potential terrorist cells and monitoring the activities of anyone they suspect of counter-Imperial behavior. The Mouth concerns itself with 'information warfare'- the shaping of public opinion, ensuring that ideas that contradict the Empire's ideology never have the opportunity to fester into new terrorist cells. The Hand is notable for being a major part of the Succession War- the pro-Urahal faction was able to sway the opinions of many higher-ups in the organization, resulting in the assassination of Aldenanth XII at the Battle of Ikkyu.

>Log file concludes.

"Load the scanners," you say. "The ship hasn't moved for a while- immediate hostility seems unlikely."

The tech nods. "Help me out, would you, Khadalit?"

The two of them disappear behind the ship, moving bulky pieces of sensor equipment into the hold. You turn to your group of volunteers.

"You think it's an Imperial ship, sir?" Svadia says.

Kaionval blinks for a moment, confused.

"I mean- 'potentially manmade object-' sorry, Keeper, but it's not hard to figure out what that might mean."

Kaionval crosses his arms. "If it's an Imperial ship, then why hasn't it contacted us?"

Svadia shrugs, languidly. "It's been a long time. We don't know what's changed. Maybe they're watching us, hey? Like an experiment. We're a control group."

"The Empire's gone. The Threat took them."

"Do we know that? Really? We only know what they told us, and... well. They haven't exactly been up front with us so far."

Kaionval considers this for a moment. "I concede. No clue if it's Imperial. No clue if it's anything."

Svadia looks you up and down. "What about you, Lady Keeper? Care to speculate?"

>"I think it's Imperial." It didn't look particularly alien, from what you saw. Of course, that'd likely mean it's a wreck by now, but you take what you can get.
>"I think it's alien." The Empire's all gone by now- for centuries, maybe, or longer. An Imperial ship would've been picked to the bones, and this one looks intact.
>"Speculation is useless." No point before you have the information.

>>4260747
+2

>>4260808
>>"Speculation is useless." No point before you have the information.
>It could be anything. It could be an oddly shaped rock. No point in guessing until we have concrete data.

>>4260808
>I meant what I said "potentially man made object" we simply don't have enough information to make a judgment one way or the other right, all we can do is try our best to prepare for any eventuality

>>4260814
>>4260820

"I mean only what I said- it's an object we don't understand. My own feelings are irrelevant."

A shadow of annoyance crosses Svadia's face for a moment, and then she's all smiles, as if nothing happened. "All professionalism, are we, Keeper? Very well, then. I can respect that."

The tech and Jorah return from the other side of the craft. The tech nods at your little group. "We should be all ready to go. I'll run some checks from the central control panel, and then we can launch."

You climb up the ramp, and motion for the others to follow, passing through the cramped airlock as you do so. The inside of the Kestrel is designed for efficiency, not comfort, and you feel it from the moment you enter the room. The craft has capacity for five people, each sitting in an off-white nanofoam crash couch, one of which bears a large semitransparent display that now displays a view of the top of the launch bay. A few panels on the wall store emergency supplies, and there are basic O2 masks beside each couch to act as a failsafe in case the central air circulation system fails.

The tech's voice crackles to life across the intercom. "Checks are good. Depressurizing the bay now."

Jorah taps the screen in a complex sequence, and the arms of his crash couch retract to reveal a set of controls that look like something between a keyboard and a set of gloves. You strap yourself in, and the rest of the crew does the same.

"Kestrel One, you are good to launch in ten... nine... eight..."

The hatch doors begin to slide open, revealing a deep starry sky.

"Seven... six... five... four..."

On the monitor, you watch as the scaffolding of the launch bay pulls itself from the ship.

"Three... two... one. Kestrel One, you are confirmed for launch."

Jorah squeezes something, and suddenly the ship shudders to life. For a moment, it feels like the entire craft will tear itself apart, and then you are free and clear, burning into the cold black with nothing but the deep red of 19 Varagine C beneath your feet.

>>4260960

The shaking stops. The ship still accelerates, providing a light gravitational pull towards the back of the ship, but the chaos has stopped, for now. You pull up your screen, and idly watch the sea of stone shimmer under the Kestrel's hull. You hear Kaionval slowly exhale, his fingers unclenching from the arms of the chair, which bear deep imprints where his hand deformed it. Svadia is grinning like a madwoman. Caeledan's eyes are closed, his expression unreadable.

"First flight," Svadia says. "Maybe century, first flight. Historic, us."

Her words hang in the air for a while. This place seems so distant from the chaos and tension of the station- even if the rational part of you knows that it's an illusion- if anything, the void is even closer here, even if it's harder to see it.

Jorah raises his voice, concentrating intently on something onscreen. "Looks like it'll be about an hour at safe velocities. I don't see any need to accelerate quicker than we have to."

You nod, and then things are silent for a long time. Kaionval and Svadia's incessant banter seems to have quieted, at least for the moment. You hear the rumble of the ship, Caeledan's slow and steady breathing from the couch beside you, Jorah's fingers at work at his console. The Kestrel cuts through the night, and for a moment you are expected only to let things go as they may.

After a long while, Kaionval speaks.

"Hey, boss. Got a question for you."

You turn your attention to him.

"Pardon me if this is too personal, but I was wondering... what were you, before this?"

"I was the daughter of an arcology-lord," you say. "Woten kel Cavamanse."

Kaionval nods slowly, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. "If you don't mind me asking- what was that like? What do you remember growing up?"

>"I remember the city." Shining towers stretching up to a false-sky, a great endless machine that built itself.
>"I remember my home." A palacial estate on a cultivated stretch of true-earth. A horde of VURUS maidservants.
>"I remember my mother." A quiet woman- commoner stock. It was a scandal when your father took her as a wife.
>"I remember the loneliness." Isolation- from your family, from other children, from the people around you. You only became a woman in your father's eyes when you followed in his footsteps.
>"Focus on the mission, Mr. Daro."
>Access Log File: Vurus
>Write-In

>>4260968
>"I remember the loneliness." Isolation- from your family, from other children, from the people around you. You only became a woman in your father's eyes when you followed in his footsteps.
Emotions tend to stick around in memories.

>>4260968
>Access Log File: Vurus
>"I remember the loneliness."
>"I remember the city."

>>4260968
>"I remember the loneliness." Isolation- from your family, from other children, from the people around you. You only became a woman in your father's eyes when you followed in his footsteps.

>>4261190
+1

>>4261190
>>4261274
>>4261063

Alright, gamer girls and party people, last post for tonight.

>Log File: Vurus

The Vurus are a species of primitives native to the planet now known as de Leon. In their base appearance, they are vaguely mammalian, with traits to Terran species such as those of the families Canidae and Didelphidae. When discovered by Imperial surveyors in IE 622, they exhibited no form of civilized society or language, instead organizing them around a primitive familial hierarchy. While initially the species was considered an obstacle to the colonization of the newly surveyed world, Imperial xenobiologists discovered a potential for intellectual growth, and suggested the institution of a longterm uplift program in order to allow the Vurus to be considered true Imperial citizens and thus enter into the Empire's protection. Since then, gentled Vurus have acted in service to the Empire, involved in professions as diverse as clerical work, trading, and warfare.

>Log File End

"Lonely," you say. "It was lonely. A house without people."

Kaionval seems to take this in for a moment, then he chuckles to himself. "You'll forgive me, Keeper. I guess I just figured... well, I guess I just figured you noble types just came out of the womb fit to govern, ha. Never put much thought into you as children first."

Svadia leans forward from her crash couch. "And what about you, Kay-oh? Been tight lipped with your past since the instant you thawed out, ha? You'd think you were the Emperor's own bastard."

Kaionval picks at the nanofoam of his couch. "Not much to tell. I grew up on Enkidu, after the bombing campaign. We had to rebuild the whole biosphere from scratch. Ended up working in a biolab, wrote a few treatises, got a letter from the Emperor, and... uh, now I'm here." He stares at the floor, a sudden darkness crossing his face. "Gone now, I guess. Enkidu, I mean. You, Svadia?"

Svadia's usual bravado drains away a bit. "Much as I'd like to write myself a new backstory as some radical terrorist or seductress of kings- I'm a soldier. Flew drones in the last days of the war against the Dusters, for all the fuckin' good that did. Never thought much of my flying, myself. Guess the Empire thought differently. How about our pilot?"

Jorah's eyes don't divert from the screen. "I'm just an engineer. Hsaio- that's where I'm from- looks like the Hells frozen over. Machines were how we survived- kept us warm, kept us fed. Cybernetics were just sort of... a natural progression for me. And you know the rest. Uh- how about y-"

"I was a farmer," Caeledan rumbles. No one speaks after that.

The ship burns soundlessly through the terrible deep.

>>4261416
You're nearly falling asleep from an exhaustion you didn't know you carried when you hear a quiet noise from somewhere- like a small piece of metal falling into a bowl. Then another. Then another. You glance over to the source of the noise to see Jorah at his console, a look of panic on his face. On the screen is a primitive radar screen, tiny white lights moving to intercept your craft.

"Engineer Khadalit, status report."

"Debris," he says, his voice thin. "It- It must've been too small for my scanners to pick up- I mean the tolerances- I thought-"

The alerts continue.

"Plot a new course."

"Y-yes, right away, sir-"

His fingers dance across the keypad, but the alerts increase- a steady, rising noise. You see his eyes widen. He's whispering something under his breath- 'no,' over and over again. Suddenly, all at once, his fingers seize. He stops moving. His eyes are wild, his hands trembling.

>"Engineer Khadalit!" Remind him where he is.
>"Jorah!" Focus him in the now.
>Pull him from the chair. You don't have any pilot like him, but you'll have to try.

>>4261418
>"Engineer Khadalit!" Remind him where he is.

>>4261418
>"Engineer Khadalit!" Remind him where he is

>>4261418
>"Engineer Khadalit!" Remind him where he is.
Fix problem now, panic later.

>>4261418
>>"Engineer Khadalit!" Remind him where he is.

>>4261418
>>"Engineer Khadalit!" Remind him where he is.

>>4261418
>>"Engineer Khadalit!" Remind him where he is.

>>4261418
>>"Engineer Khadalit!" Remind him where he is.

>>4261420
>>4261577
>>4261641
>>4261671
>>4261772
>>4261812

"Engineer Khadalit! Move! Now!"

His eyes don't move. They're glued to the screen in front of him- glued to the silent death that moves towards your ship at hundreds of meters a second. "Keeper- I can't- Too many- I'm sorry-"

From his couch at the other end of the ship, Caeledan rises to his feet in an instant, moving in a single swift motion to Jorah's console. He grabs the arm rests, shoving a terrified Jorah out of the way. "Brace for hard burn," he roars. "Now!"

His hands move across the terminal controls, and the ship's engines roar beneath your feet. Suddenly, it feels like someone is standing on your chest, and you fall back against the couch. It's all you can do to roll your eyes over to look at Svadia and Kaionval, both pressed hard into the nanofoam at awkward angles, at Jorah, staring wide-eyed into space, struggling desperately to move his arms- and at Caeledan, somehow managing to stay upright and working at the controls. Something strikes the hull of the ship, and the whole craft rings like a bell. Another impact. Another, then two more, then three, then five, and for a moment you're convinced that the ship is going to rip itself apart under the strain. And then, just as suddenly, it's gone. The rumbling slows. The crushing weight is gone, and you are moving through the dark and cold once more. Caeledan takes a step back from the terminal, and slumps against a wall. Just as soon as he does so, Svadia is up- unbuckling her harness and rushing to his side.

"Hey- Boss- are you-"

The big man waves her aside, coughing. "I'm fine. Just need a second to catch my breath."

Kaionval stands, moving over to you and scanning you for any injury. "You okay, Miss Keeper?"

After a moment of making sure all your limbs are still intact, you nod. "I don't seem to be harmed."

Jorah rubs his wrists quietly. When you look over at him, he does not meet your eye.

"Engineer Khadalit, are you able to continue?"

He nods. "Yes, Keeper. I- Yes. I am."

He does not speak a word to you until you have reached your destination.

>>4262812

****

"I'm slowing the deceleration," Jorah announces. "The object is within scan range. I'm going to take a look."

His fingers squeeze something, and you feel the rumbling of the ship slow, eventually quieting so far you can no longer hear it. You unbuckle your harness, and float from your seat, grabbing the handrails in the Kestrel interior and positioning yourself behind Jorah's bank of monitors. The rest of the crew does the same. On the screen, you can see the same object as was displayed on the holopad, magnified and sharpened ten times over. It's unmistakable now- the object is a spacecraft. It is a large cylinder, rounded off at one end. At the back, you can see a large drive cone, ringed by radiators that project from the hull like the quills of a porcupine. The shape bulges at the center, into a segmented hull that looks like it might be some sort of cargo bay. From the front projects the silvery needles of what appears to be a comms assembly. Between the comms towers and the cargo bay is what you assume to be a docking umbilical.

"That doesn't look Imperial," you say.

"No," Jorah agrees. "It doesn't. I'm not getting any heat signatures off it- either it's scrapped or running just essential functions. It's made no attempts to hail us thus far- although I can't imagine it wouldn't have been able to detect us burning directly towards it."

From his pocket, he produces a datapad connected to a rectangular black box by some exposed wiring. "The scanners I've rigged say that it arrived here recently- maybe three months ago? That's the last time the engines have fired, anyhow, judging by the heat the radiators are bleeding."

He glances back to you. "The ships' got enough intact electronics to run a close-range hail, if you want- but should we?"

>Hail the ship. Assert authority. Invoke the Empire.
>Hail the ship, but don't reveal anything about you that isn't absolutely necessary.
>Don't hail the ship- organize an EVA boarding party.
>Write-In

>>4262814
>>Hail the ship, but don't reveal anything about you that isn't absolutely necessary.
Better safe than sorry.

>>4262814
>Hail the ship, but don't reveal anything about you that isn't absolutely necessary.
the fact that it's definitely not imperial is very worrying.

>>4262814
>>Hail the ship, but don't reveal anything about you that isn't absolutely necessary.

>>4262814
>Don't hail the ship- organize an EVA boarding party.

>>4262829
>>4262883
>>4262896
>>4262926

You lean over and press the button that broadcasts a tightbeam to the quiet freighter.

"Unidentified ship, please state your designation and intention. Over."

A second passes- two, five, ten, a minute. Two minutes. You press the button and broadcast again.

"I repeat, requesting designation and attention. Are you in need of assistance?"

No response.

"Boarding it is, then," Svadia mutters.

"I have to agree with Gotr, Keeper," Jorah says. "Who- or what- ever is one that ship, I doubt they're in the right condition to respond."

He taps the image of the ship twice, and the view zooms in, focusing on the umbillical. "It looks like the docking clamp is still intact. You could traverse the distance between the two in EVA suits, but you'd be burning a lot of fuel and oxygen doing so. Alternatively, I could manually dock with the ship, to allow us to enter and exit much quicker-"

"And the same for whoever's on the other side," Kaionval notes.

"Well... yes," Jorah responds. "But if we needed to make a quick decision, it'd be much easier then having you flee back to the Kestrel in suits that weren't really designed for this kind of long range travel."

"I think we've seen enough of your quick decisionmaking already," snipes Svadia.

Jorah says nothing, but he almost flinches. It's clear he's hurt.

"It's your choice, Keeper."

>Dock. We can't exactly waste resources at the moment.
>Go by EVA. It'll take much longer, but at least the Kestrel will be relatively safe.
>Write-In

>>4263044
>>Dock. We can't exactly waste resources at the moment.

>>4263044
>Dock. We can't exactly waste resources at the moment.

>>4263044
>Dock. We can't exactly waste resources at the moment.

>>4263044
>Dock. We can't exactly waste resources at the moment.

>>4263044
>Dock. We can't exactly waste resources at the moment.

>>4263044
>Dock. We can't exactly waste resources at the moment.

>>4263051

"Bring the ship around," you say. "EVA poses too much of a risk."

"Understood, Keeper," Jorah says. The ship's retrotrockets burn, shifting the Kestrel to match the velocity of the spacecraft. "I'll stay aboard the ship, and manage things from here."

You spend the minutes before docking getting into your vaccum suits. Through the filtered windows to the void outside, you see the craft outside grow from a sliver of silver on the far horizon to a titanic freighter slowly spinning against the black. The design is not Imperial, but it is... familiar, like a memory of an Imperial hauler far distorted from the true article. As the ship adjusts, you feel the jolts shudder through the hull. Kaionval stumbles a moment, is caught by Svadia's arm.

The ship is gone now, and the umbilical looms large against your view.

"Attempting docking in 5," Jorah crackles through the headsets in your vacc suits. Svadia's fingers play on her pistol.

"Four... three... two... one."

A noise of metal against metal. The ship jolts, stops.

"Docking successful. Seal looks airtight. We're good to open the airlock."

"Open it," you say.

The door slides open, and you step into the bowels of the unknown ship.

***

Darkness greets you. The interior is lightless. Not even the typical glowing red of emergency power is active.

"Headlamps on," you announce. There's a brief pause, and then the dark is broken by four cones of bluish light. When you see the scene in front of you, it takes you a moment to even register what is in front of you.

"Gods protect us," Svadia breathes.

The room you're currently within seems to be a small concourse designed to facilitate passenger transfer. It's a wide hallway, with a low ceiling. Your focus isn't much on the architectural design, however- it's on the bodies.

Six inanimate bodies float in the null-g around you. They are small- furry, vaguely mamallian, although elements of some sort of reptile make themselves known in the way their snouts project from their heads. Your sister had a rat- a dreadfully expensive creation of Imperial scientists, cloned from the Throneworld's genetic archives- and you recall it now in the curled-up form of the creatures, that same hairless muscled tail.

Each has had their throat slit, and orbs of congealed blood float around their scattered bodies like the eyes of indifferent spirits.

"What the fuck," Kaionval whispers. "What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck..."

"Engineer Khadalit," you say. "Is there any species like this on Imperial records?"

His voice is thin and tinny through your earpiece. "I can't access the full logs. But I've never seen anything like them before..."

>Retreat. Leave before the same happens to you.
>Go further into the ship. You need to know why this happened.
>Investigate one of the bodies.
>Write-In

>>4264694
>Investigate one of the bodies.
We need to gather as much information as possible and as distressing as all this is he simple fact is that dead bodies on a dead ship can't hurt us, ignorance can.

>>4264694
>Investigate one of the bodies.
Ritual suicide?

>>4264694
>Investigate one of the bodies.

>>4264694
>Investigate one of the bodies.

>>4265063
>>4264872
>>4264840
>>4264841

Could someone roll an INT check, please? That's 4d6.

Rolled 6, 2, 6, 2 = 16 (4d6)

>>4265079


You draw your pistol, and carefully approach the body on the furthest to the left, gently pressing the barrel into its body. Upon confirming it is truly dead, you move its limbs away from its body and begin to inspect it fully.

You'd estimate it at about four feet from the tip of its snout to its feet, and another two to the end of its long tail, which slowly twists as you push the dead creature's limbs apart. It has the human-standard arrangement of limbs- two wide feet near the back, and two four-fingered hands near the front. Decay has begun to set in, and your senses are assaulted by the stench of rot as you pull its arms away from its chest. Its dark fur is stained with blood, bleeding down from the wide gash in its neck, but as you investigate further you notice more injuries- bruising on the hands, the neck. This creature struggled as it died.

The implications of this thought make you shudder. The rat-aliens didn't kill each other, you're certain of that- the positioning doesn't make any sense if that were the case. They were killed by something external, coming from the same way you are now. And if that's the case...

You wouldn't call yourself a military expert, but you've had enough experience with the Imperial Army to understand that they subscribe to a philosophy of economy of effort. Each task is to be done as quickly and with as little exertion of energy as possible. For something to pin an opponent down, just so it could cut their throat- you don't think you're dealing with a soldier, here. You think you're dealing with something different, something crueler. A predator.

The creature's chest is covered with a harness apparatus that looks designed to give it easy access to various tools. In a sheath hanging from near the rat-thing's hip is a long knife made of some indeterminate composite, wickedly curved and still sharp. As you inspect each of the bodies in turn, you note that each rat-alien possesses one of these knives- some still in the sling, others gripped in paws. One rat's knife seems mysteriously absent, until Kaionval silently points above you, and you look up to see a severed paw trailing blood, a knife still in its grip. You feel a little sick.

"These were the advance guard?" Svadia whispers. "They don't seem well-armed..."

Kaionval's hands clench and unclench in his vacuum suit. "Could... whatever did this... could it still be on the ship?"

You don't have an answer for him.

Caeledan stares at the rats, his expression difficult to interpret. "Keeper. Where should we start investigating?"

>"Upwards, towards comms." There might be answers there.
>"Towards the cargo bay." Are there any supplies you can commandeer?
>"The reactor." A workable drive- if you're lucky.
>Write-In

>>4265107
>>"Towards the cargo bay." Are there any supplies you can commandeer?

>>4265107
>>"Towards the cargo bay." Are there any supplies you can commandeer?

>>4265107
>"Towards the cargo bay." Are there any supplies you can commandeer?

>>4265107
probably too late but
>"Upwards, towards comms." There might be answers there.
Logs, communications, maybe internal sensors, all would be super useful right now.

>>4265107
>"Upwards, towards comms." There might be answers there.

>>4265107
>>"Towards the cargo bay." Are there any supplies you can commandeer?

>>4265107
>>"Towards the cargo bay." Are there any supplies you can commandeer?

>>4265485
Support

>>4266144
>>4266083
>>4265639
>>4265485
>>4265410
>>4265259
>>4265186
>>4265118

Sorry for the lack of updates today- things cropped up in my personal life that prevented me from updating as much as I would've liked to.

"Towards the cargo bay," you say. "There might be some supplies there we can scavenge for the lighthouse."

Caeledan nods, and with his acceptance of this plan seems to come Svadia's and Kaionval's as well. Thus determined- and also subconciously eager to escape from the scene of death before you, you descend deeper into the ship.

"For a ship crewed by aliens, this looks awful Imperial..." Kaionval says. He's right. There is certainly strangeness- the odd way the halls curve, the bulbous and rounded hull, the way that the ceilings seem a good foot lower than they might've been on a human ship- but there's far more that is recognizably human. The layout of the ship itself wouldn't seem too out of place on a trade frigate, and you've seen little of the divergence you might expect from an independent spacefaring culture.

"Maybe it is- just retrofitted. From a ship graveyard," Svadia says, and then you are all silent for a moment while you contemplate exactly how common Imperial ship graveyards are in this galaxy turned suddenly strange.

Jorah's voice pops over the comms. "If it's similar enough, the Ansible architecture might be compatible to the Lighthouse's own systems."

The cramped corridor breaks into a large, circular room. If you had to guess, this might serve as some sort of central social area for the crew of the ship- a mess hall equivalent for whatever these creatures processed instead of Terran nutrients. Much of the central room is occupied by several wide discs, standing about half a foot off the ground on several thin legs and composed of an unidentified metallic substance. Each is ringed by multiple long cushions. Around these are grouped several more discs- except much smaller, and standing higher- maybe two feet off the ground. These ones are without cushions. As you sweep the room, the electric light of your lamps picks out more bodies- rats, but also two other creatures- much larger, with six limbs and cloaked in some sort of scaly cowl from their head to their long, wide tails.

>Investigate the other creatures. It might give you more of an idea of what you're dealing with.
>Investigate the discs. Why were the aliens here when they died?
>Head to the cargo bay. No point in wasting time.

>>4267179
>Investigate the other creatures. It might give you more of an idea of what you're dealing with.
>Investigate the discs. Why were the aliens here when they died?
Unless something gives us a reason to rush, let's gather as much information as possible.

>>4267240
support

>>4267179
>>Investigate the discs. Why were the aliens here when they died?

>>4267179
>Investigate the discs. Why were the aliens here when they died?

QM? I hope it's not dead.

>>4271176
Not abandoned- I’m just in a difficult place right now writing-wise. I want to make sure this quest is to the quality I want it to be.

>>4267240
>>4267342
>>4267353
>>4267562

You first take a look at the discs. As you inspect closer, you see that what you had assumed to be a single solid surface is in fact latticed with multiple small holes, presumably to let some kind of fluid drain through. You step forward, and notice something inside one of the corners of the disc's 'receptacle-' a dessicated fungal growth, on top of some sort of red stain. You can't get any sort of olfactory sense out of this suit, but you don't have to in order to guess what this was used for- this disc was used for eating meat. Probably raw. The thought makes you a little ill.

The creatures body is maybe eight feet long. Six stubby limbs break from roughly the center of its body. It's difficult to learn much about it from the cowl- which you judge to be a spacesuit- but bipedalism seems awkward for it. There's something distinctly reptillian about the form of the body- the thick tail, the wide, long snout.

"Keeper-" Svadia says, getting your attention.

You turn towards her to see one of the tables pressed against the wall, apparently pinned there by a series of long needles that stick through to the other side.

"Help me pull these out, would you?"

You move to help her. It takes more force than you'd expect to remove them, but once you do you can roll the table away and reveal what's on the other side. It's another of the reptiles, this one clutching something in its arms. The form is new, but from the way the beast grips it tightly you can guess the function- it's a rifle. Its chest has been utterly ruined by the hail of needles, and as you move the table a fragment of bone comes bouncing from the cavity.

"We're not dealing with a monster, here," Svadia mutters, inspecting a needle. "This was manufactured."

The front visor of the cowl is smashed open, and you get a glimpse of the creature's eye- bestial, primordial, dead.

You take the rifle. You doubt you'll be able to use it, but maybe the techs can get something from it.

>Continue on to the cargo bay. No point in dawdling.
>Haul some of the creatures to the Kestrel. It'll take time, but performing an autopsy might be worthwhile.

>>4273084
>>Continue on to the cargo bay. No point in dawdling.
I've watched enough space horror movies to not bring anything back for autopsy.

>>4273084
>Haul some of the creatures to the Kestrel. It'll take time, but performing an autopsy might be worthwhile.

>>4273118
>>4273144

If there are no more responses in the next 15 minutes, I’m doing a coin flip.

Also, probably gonna post the next thread tomorrow.

>>4273084
>Continue on to the cargo bay. No point in dawdling.
We can come back and get the bodies later when we feel properly prepared.

>>4273186
>>4273118

You step away from the creature, and motion for Svadia to do the same.

"Nothing for us here. Let's assess the cargo."

"Understood, Keeper," Kaionval says. Caeledan simply grunts in approval.

You descend. The ship is set up like a tower, with the comms on the 'top' and the reactor and engines at the 'bottom'. If it was under thrust, it'd feel no different from a planet's surface. As it is, your crew's magboots thunk loudly against the flooring with every step.

Down a long ladder, and you enter into a room larger than any other you've seen on the ship. It's significantly higher, too, and hanging from the ceiling you can see a crane-like apparatus seemingly designed for carrying and moving cargo. The floor is covered with crates, each as tall as a man and twice as long. Most of them have been torn open, their contents gone, but there are a few full- some of small white packages, some of oddly-shaped metallic parts designed for an unknown use. Here, too, you are struck by how oddly human everything looks.

You wait for a few moments, subconciously waiting for something to leap from the dark and rip out your throat, but no such monster arrives.

"Spread out," you say. "See if there's anything useful."

You descend into a maze of crates. Most of them are dissapointments. Doors ripped from their hinges, opening on empty space. Others might be useful. When you come across a crate filled with small boxes of metallic parts, Jorah's voice crackles over the intercom to inform you they might be useful in the mining droids. Jorah finds a discarded canister of something he says is fertilizer. Caeledan pulls a full power cell from a crate of spent ones. There's still useful material on this ship, you assess- but you'll need to run a salvage operation in order to get at it.

You're absent-mindedly rolling a cell across the bottom of your boot when Svadia's voice crackles.

"Hey. Meet up on me. Found something interesting."

When you find Svadia, she's standing at the edge of a crate, a piece of what looks like bone in her hands. She points to the crate's interior.

The first thing you see is the stains on the walls. Manic, looping. Spirals. They're painted in a substance you can't identify- or perhaps you can, but your brain refuses to. Your eyes then turn to the thing you can only describe as a nest. Torn-up nanofoam, discarded oxygen canisters, a component ripped from a larger whole that your suit informs you is leaking an immense amount of heat. A staggering amount and variety of weapons- blades, guns, clubs- all arrayed in a semicircle pointed towards the outside world.

And, perhaps most disconcertingly- bones and meat. Of what, you're not sure.

Kaionval slowly draws his sidearm. Caeledan seems wary and alert.

"We're not alone here," Svadia announces.

Make an INT check- that's 4d6.

Rolled 4, 2, 2, 1 = 9 (4d6)

>>4273201

>>4273210

"A crewman?" Kaionval speculates. "Or maybe- one of the attackers, left behind t-"

You see it for a split second as the muzzle flashes- a squat thing, balanced atop the crane, something long and silver and angry in its grip that breathes a quiet fire- but you don't register what it is until you hear Kaionval scream in pain.

He pitches over, a dark stain rapidly covering the front of his suit.

"NO!"

Svadia's running to him, falling to her knees and pushing down on his chest, but there's blood- there's so much blood-

Caeledan's gun works silently, flashes of light briefly illuminating the darkness around you.

You need to do something. You need to choose. Now.

>Fire back!
>Run for cover!
>You're certain it was moving- where?
>Help Kaionval!

>>4273217
>Write-In

>>4273217
>>Help Kaionval!
shooting blindly will only damage the ship more

>>4273219
Give me a PRS roll, please?

>>4273236
That's 5d6.

Rolled 6, 6, 5, 6, 3 = 26 (5d6)

>>4273237

>>4273273

Medical training from a long, long time ago flashes to the front of your mind- and so too does your natural instinct for command under fire.

You grab Kaionval's legs. "Move him into the crate. Now."

Svadia nods, briefly taking her hands off of Kaionval's chest to haul him under the cover of sheet metal. He groans, and you see that Svadias' palms are thick with bright red blood.

The two of you move Kaionval inside the lip of the nest, and you take turns pushing on his chest. Kaionval has hunkered behind a crate, and every few seconds will fire in the direction of where the bullets are coming from. As Svadia lays her knees on the site of the impact, you grab some of the discarded nanofoam laying in one corner of the room. It's not exactly sanitary, but Kaionval's in no place to object.

"Sorry, soldier," you mutter as you press it against the wound. Kaionval grunts in pain, and his feet kick for a moment. You press in another handful, then another, until the blood stops soaking through.

Svadia looks up at you. "He's stable- for now, but if we don't get him actual medical treatment soon, he'll die."

Jorah's voice crackles over the radio. "There's medical supplies on the Kestrel- not much, but I can get the bullet out of him and seal up the wound."

The fire outside seems to have stopped. Caeledan carefully peers over the crates, scanning the inside of the ship with his gun at the ready.

Svadia looks up at you, and you see genuine fear in her eyes. "One of us will have to take him, Keeper. But who?"

>Caeledan. He's skilled with a firearm.
>You. Caeledan and I will hold whatever it is off.
>Me. Keeping my crew alive is my responsibility.
>Leave him- he's more resources than he's worth.

>>4273316
>Write-In

>>4273316
>>You. Caeledan and I will hold whatever it is off.

>>4273316
>You. Caeledan and I will hold whatever it is off.

>>4273316
>Me. Keeping my crew alive is my responsibility.

>>4273485
>>4273400

"You should take him," you say. "Caeledan and I will try and pin this thing down."

Svadia nods, hauling a groaning Kaionval over her shoulder and attatching the belt of her suit to his. In the microgravity, he's almost weightless, and his limbs drift as if he's underwater as he moans in pain.

"Xa," you say. "Are we safe to move?"

"Yeah," Caeledan responds. "Think I hit the thing in the side. Last I saw it was moving into the hull. Probably holing up somewhere to treat its wounds. Should buy us some time."

You nod. You're about to turn to Svadia and tell her to go, but she's already off, carrying Kaionval in her arms with ease.

You move towards Xa's position, careful to avoid putting yourself into any easy firing paths. You trust Xa is telling the truth, but at the same time you're not eager to take any unneccesary risks.

His suit bumps shoulders with yours, and you pull your sidearm from its holster, flicking the safety off and feeling the thrumm of the magnetic coils within.

"What's the plan, Keeper?"

"Neutralize the attacker. It poses too much of a risk to the Kestrel to be left able to fight."

Xa nods, and you can see something of approval on his face.

"Understood. On your order, Keeper."

>"Head for the reactor." Engine rooms are cramped and dense- if you were looking for a place to hide, it's where you'd go.
>"Head for the bridge." Bridges are designed to be easily defensible in order to combat raids. The inhabitant might have head there.
>"Retreat to the Kestrel. Cover Svadia." Right now, your priority should just be ensuring that all your crew make it out alive.
>Write-In

Feels like things just stopped all of a sudden. What happened? Did everyone suddenly die?

>>4274023
>"Retreat to the Kestrel. Cover Svadia." Right now, your priority should just be ensuring that all your crew make it out alive.

>>4278776
We have a new thread anon
>>4274347
>>4274347