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>>5915251
Shouldn't freeze-dried instant coffee taste worse? Unexpectedly rich flavour, strong aroma, with some cocoa powder to round out the profile this would be perfect to start the day. Little wonder why some scavengers can make a living digging up ancient military rations out of ashen Earth to sell to collectors and rig-streamers. You glance over Silas' report. Nothing unusual, the best news. That would certainly leave you more time to take care of more... sensitive matters around the ship.

Yesterday you already did the usual round through the ship, a little EM detector hidden under your bra. Unfortunately, it did not catch any out-of-place background radiation. No matter, you never expected the rats to make it so easy. A few days, a few weeks, until the end of this sortie, there are bound to be mistakes. And you will be there to pounce on them.

Speaking of pouncing, sooner or later Silas must be dealt with. Now that you have time to sit down and think, you suddenly realise how the man has been at the centre of this whole privateering business. First, he actively sought you out after your father's death. Why didn't he just claim the ship as his own? Surely, Fleet Command would prefer an experienced officer leading one of its better ships. But maybe, if what Johnson said is true, Silas wanted you as a puppet, a convenient fall-woman for any schemes.

That would certainly work with your second realisation, that the whole Dantalion business was Silas' idea to begin with. If you had not run in with that turncoat whats-her-name, then you could have avoided getting entangled with Fleet Intelligence and this whole ‘great game’ bullshit.

Seeing the past few months in this way does explain quite a lot of things, except for Silas' apparent loyalty to your late father. The hair on the back of your neck still heckles whenever you remember that quiet determination in his voice during the Dantalion ambush. Certainly, no actor can put on such a good show, can they? You understand Tim's sentiments, but not his timing. Why tell you all this now, just when you can do fuck all about it? Maybe he has his own motivations too... No, you disavowed that line of reasoning when you chose to trust him. Besides, a captain being paranoid of both her senior officers would spell disaster for everyone onboard.

>>5915259
You can't let this suspicion keep on eating away at you. Maybe you can broach the topic somehow with Silas? Your idle hand plays around with a 1d100, dropping it three times in quick succession.
>Ask him directly. You are basically powerless on this ship anyway. What reason does he have to keep lying to you? (DC 55-7, this might sour your relationship)
>Make vague allusions. If Silas is truly the master-actor the worse part of you makes him out to be, he will surely pick up on the hint. (DC 80-7, this will probably annoy Silas)
>Bug his quarters. There's a reason why Tim must pick his moment so carefully. It's best to not let him know you are onto something (DC 40, this will destroy any trust if caught)
>Do nothing. If Silas wants to destroy you, he could have done so several times by now. Focus your mind on the battle ahead instead. (DC 30, if failed will cause temporary -2 to all rolls for the rest of the sortie)
>Write-in

For this quest the rules are as follows:
>Writeins are encouraged, even if it doesn't win I might work it into the final decision.
>Votes should be in greentext and linked to my post, otherwise I might miss it.
>When changing your votes, link both your original post and my own to help me keep track of things
I will try to post updates every other day around 10am EST (I live in a different time zone), if I didn't post it at that time for whatever reason I will try to get the post in around 10pm instead.

Rolled 67 (1d100)

>>5915251
>Last time it was just a bomb threat, this time I slipped off a ladder and almost broke my neck. Next time I will pay someone else to put up our Lunar New Year decorations.
The curse is relentless

>>5915263
>Do nothing. If Silas wants to destroy you, he could have done so several times by now. Focus your mind on the battle ahead instead. (DC 30, if failed will cause temporary -2 to all rolls for the rest of the sortie)

Rolled 6 (1d100)

>>5915263
>Ask him directly. You are basically powerless on this ship anyway. What reason does he have to keep lying to you? (DC 55-7, this might sour your relationship)

>>5915251
I'm sorry. I hope you're feeling better.

Rolled 82 (1d100)

>>5915263
>Ask him directly. You are basically powerless on this ship anyway. What reason does he have to keep lying to you? (DC 55-7, this might sour your relationship)

Don't go out when we're at page 9 until you make a new thread

>>5915263
>Ask him directly. You are basically powerless on this ship anyway. What reason does he have to keep lying to you? (DC 55-7, this might sour your relationship)
Glad to hear that you still live qm

>>5915263
>Do nothing. If Silas wants to destroy you, he could have done so several times by now. Focus your mind on the battle ahead instead. (DC 30, if failed will cause temporary -2 to all rolls for the rest of the sortie)

>>5915263
>Make vague allusions. If Silas is truly the master-actor the worse part of you makes him out to be, he will surely pick up on the hint. (DC 80-7, this will probably annoy Silas)

>>5915263
>Make vague allusions. If Silas is truly the master-actor the worse part of you makes him out to be, he will surely pick up on the hint. (DC 80-7, this will probably annoy Silas)

>>5915448
>>5915718
Thank you for your concern, I should be getting out of my cast soon.

>>5915319
>>5915482
Maybe I will try starting a new thread sooner instead, seems to work before.

>>5915448
>>5915482
>>5915718
>Confront

>>5916361
>>5916631
>Insinuate

>>5915835
>>5915319
>Do nothing

Roll: 82 vs. 55 - 7 = 48. Major Success.

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>>5917984
Tim may be right about blind trust, but doubt is only healthy when it is backed with reason and evidence. Without either, it is nothing more than baseless suspicion, slowly stewing and festering in the dark corners of the ship's human core. You resolve to ask Silas directly, give him a chance to set the record straight. But as you were marching to his private room snuggled behind a narrow corridor's dead end, it is him who bumped into you first.

“Oh, just as I was looking for you, Sylv-, I mean, ma'am.” His hand doesn't even reach past his chin before dropping. Thankfully the hallway was deserted, you do not want to pretend to scold him in front of the men. “I was looking for you too, Silas. We need to talk.” He immediately turns round. “Me too. What are you waiting for? Follow me.”

You have enough of this. No one will order you around your own ship. “Lieutenant Commander O'Keefe, must I remind you who is in charge around here? I believe that I can hear you from here just fine, why go anywhere else?” Silas turns to face you again and his mouth mimes out, “Bugs!”. Oh, right, forgot about that. Nothing else to complain about, then.

After making several laps around the hydroponics to shake any new tails out your backsides you two finally arrived before a closet. Your officer bends down and carefully disarms what looks like a tripwire before proceeding. A question rises to the tip of your tongue but you forcefully swallow it back down. No need to know what will happen when the wire is pulled. On the other hand, what if someone uninvolved in all this accidentally gets caught by this? You can't have your own officers boobytrapping the ship to fight their petty turf wars. “I know what you are thinking. I only connect it to a silent alarm, lets me know if this place been bugged.”

Well, that's not much more reassuring. “Why is this necessary? Why do I feel unsafe on my own ship?” He reaches behind you to close the door. “If it makes you feel better, they aren't out for you. Well, except for that Liberation Front bitch, but she's dead now.” Silas takes several deep breaths before continuing. “But I'm not gonna drag you all the way out here to tell you what you know already. Truth is, I have a confession, a few confessions to make.” One last pull of breath, deeper than the rest. “So can your requests wait, please. Took me an entire week to figure out how to best put this." Fine, you nod.

“That easy? You never shut up normally.” A nervous chuckle, shut down by your glare. “All right, sorry, sorry. What I want to say is that, Fleet spooks have us in a bind. Probably.” So Tim was right all along. “You have been working for them all this time?” Unexpectedly, Silas shakes his head profusely, “Me? No, no, I want to live until third digit. It's your father who's the problem. Or at least I think.”

>>5917999
He sighs, “He's a good man, as I've said. Too good. Kept us all in the dark, so afraid of pulling us down into the mud with him." Recognising he's falling into a trance, Silas shakes his head again, “Anyway, I'm positive he cut some sort of deal with them when building this ship. I know, I delivered some of the parts myself all those years ago. Maybe that's why he wanted me on this ship. Better your first officer knows something, enough to ask nothing.”

How convenient, you were about to ask about his merchant past yourself, “You play courier for glows, but somehow you are not glowing yourself? They weren't exactly subtle when whitewashing your shipping records.” His eyes go wide in surprise. Bullseye. “What? God, no. My company got all the proper paperwork from the Requisitions Office before I took anything onboard, I made sure of that. I don't smuggle like the other captains, can never serve in the Navy again with a criminal record.” His brows furrow in realisation. “Must have been why the spooks trusted me... We're getting off track again. Point is, ship is not exactly to spec. Didn't want to tell you earlier, thought you would never come out here if I did. I'm sorry, for not trusting you.” His head hangs low.

“Apology accepted. But I already know about all that. I have my own eyes and ears, and I've been digging too.” Silas looks up again, a load taken off his shoulders. “That's great. You're learning fast. Faster than your old man when he first came out here, that's for sure.”

"He gave some bullshit excuses to Goldsmith back then to keep the ship this way. But now, with all the cash from that last op, and your permission of course, I can put in an order for replacement parts, make sure everything clears custom by the time we get back. All the better armed for when the spooks came knocking to collect whatever debt your pa owed them." Your current discretionary budget stands at 480,000 Directorate credits.
>Approve the request. This ship is how you fish for a living, you should at least invest in better hooks. (-260,000 credits est., replaces rear torpedo turrets with 12in railguns, increases ship reliability)
>Modernise the ship. Fuck fishing laws, with how aggressive the fish are getting, better to grab some dynamite instead. (-400,000 credits est., same as above, installs 4 new 12in railguns in casemates on ship's bow, redistribute rear torpedoes throughout the ship's length)
>Tone down the refit. The ship is mostly fine as is, bending the hook straight is good enough (-100,000 credits est., no replacement, only service upgrades, increases ship reliability)
>Reject the request. The hook is already growing rusty, time to start saving for a new one. (no changes)
>Write-in

nice trips

>>5918002
>Modernise the ship. Fuck fishing laws, with how aggressive the fish are getting, better to grab some dynamite instead. (-400,000 credits est., same as above, installs 4 new 12in railguns in casemates on ship's bow, redistribute rear torpedoes throughout the ship's length)
Is there something we can do to make the ship tougher or add defenses

>>5918002
>Reject the request. The hook is already growing rusty, time to start saving for a new one. (no changes)
He's obviously bullshitting us. He wants to remove something from the ship while replacing the parts.

>>5917999
Nice.

>>5918002
>Approve the request. This ship is how you fish for a living, you should at least invest in better hooks. (-260,000 credits est., replaces rear torpedo turrets with 12in railguns, increases ship reliability)

>>5918227
Your ship already had a lot of additional defensive countermeasures bolted on in your father's years. For the 'agree' choices they will all receive service upgrades.
You can always add even more, but
>point defense requires clear sightlines to form a firing net, and installing too many more will start hampering their overall effectiveness.
>armour is heavy and frankly not designed to be messed with too much.
>shield is nestled deep inside the hull which is fine for repairs but not so much for replacement.
>your electronic warfare equipment is almost the best money can buy already. Anything better will require cozying up with a Coreworld power which opens up its own cans of worms.
>>5918232
>He's obviously bullshitting us.
Maybe, maybe not.

Since we are currently in a tie I will wait until next afternoon to make a post. If there's no new votes by then I will roll a 1d3 to pick our response.

>>5918002
>Approve the request. This ship is how you fish for a living, you should at least invest in better hooks. (-260,000 credits est., replaces rear torpedo turrets with 12in railguns, increases ship reliability)

>>5918002
>Approve the request. This ship is how you fish for a living, you should at least invest in better hooks. (-260,000 credits est., replaces rear torpedo turrets with 12in railguns, increases ship reliability)

Sorry, a client suddenly called me today, so I couldn't check 4chan before coming home.

>>5918356
>>5920118
>>5920792
>Approve
>>5918232
>Modernise
>>5918227
>Reject

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>>5921443
You carefully consider the proposal. On the one hand, the credit costs are not insubstantial, but even more worrying are the risks of Silas removing unsavoury remnants of the ship's pasts. Yet how likely is that? He already had all the time to do anything he wanted after your father's death. On the other hand, this upgrade would drastically improve both the Vanilla Skyline's offensive and defensive capabilities. Seeing how well it has served so far, your throat itches to say yes, to unleash the cruiser's true potential.

All that's stopping the sound from leaving is a half-formed fear. An oppressive presence, how heavy your father's shadows still weigh over your every decision. Despite never seeing him, a part of you want to heed his warning. He never upgraded the ship for a reason. Because you never saw him, an even greater part wished only to spite him. Screw his reasons, this is your ship now, and you will do what needs to be done. He can go haunt scrapyards after all traces of his ghost have been cleaned from the ship.

Even if the coward within has tied your tongue, you can still nod. And so you do. “Good, I will place the orders immediately after we're done here. Even if I don't smuggle, I still know many who will." After ticking some boxes on his tablet, Silas places it back in his messenger bag and starts to leave. “If you have no other questions, then I will be down at comms. And one last thing. I don't know what impression Johnson gave you back on that station, but remember this. I only choose officers I can trust with my life.” He gives you another half-hearted salute before disappearing, “Don't come out yet. Someone may be watching. If I don't return in 2 minutes, then coast is clear.”

You frantically pace in the cramped closet. What could Silas have meant by that? Surely he must have recognised Tim's true feelings. You try outlining the possibilities in your mind. A) Both Silas and Tim are telling you the truth. This can only mean that Tim is lying very convincingly to Silas. B) Tim is lying. This doesn't make sense, unless as some kind of sick test. C) Silas is lying. This seems at least plausible, if he wants to deal with this quietly. After all, Tim needs your support to take down Silas, while Silas can just terminate Tim's contract next time you dock in Liteian territory. You did not even dare to consider D. No, impossible, you should already be 20 feet out a 10 feet airlock if so.

But all this theorising is useless without a way to confirm it. No choice but to sigh at your own impotence. And just when you thought you have finally escape your father's shadows too. Is it 2 minutes yet? Probably. Stumbling out the narrow corridor you make for your own bunk. After a good sleep you can go over all this again, more carefully. And to think you once read webnovels because your life wasn't exciting enough. Turns out, drama is much more entertaining seen from God's eye view.

>>5921447
Goldsmith is leaning on the doorframe of your room, his fingers snapping impatiently. He did not recognise you until you were almost upon him, but still saluted as fast he could. At least someone on this ship still appreciated your authority. You return the salute, “What is the problem, Lieutenant?"

"Ma'am, I've discussed this with Silas, but he won't budge. He wanted to leave in 14 days, but we need more than that to properly maintain everything on the ship. The longer we spend here preparin', the longer we can fight out there. Logistics, simple and pure."
>Uphold Silas' decision. He has shown you the timetable, you should depart as fast as possible before the Ter can harden their defense.
>Give Goldsmith an extra week. That should be plenty enough to keep everything in order. You will have to rush to Molosses, but better to do so on even keel.
>Settle on a compromise, 17 days. Goldsmith can still cover all the most important systems, and Silas will hopefully make up for the lost time somehow.
>"Can't you work faster? I know you can do it. You won't let me down, right?"
>Write-in

>>5921449
>>Settle on a compromise, 17 days. Goldsmith can still cover all the most important systems, and Silas will hopefully make up for the lost time somehow.

Get the important stuff up to snuff, but too long and we're in deep shit.

>>5921449
>Give Goldsmith an extra week. That should be plenty enough to keep everything in order. You will have to rush to Molosses, but better to do so on even keel.

>>5921449
>Settle on a compromise, 17 days. Goldsmith can still cover all the most important systems, and Silas will hopefully make up for the lost time somehow.

>>5921449
>"Can't you work faster? I know you can do it. You won't let me down, right?"
Don't blow us up

>>5921469
>>5921730
>Compromise

>>5921638
>Caution
>>5922369
>Appeal

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>>5923304
Goldsmith is right, being cautious in maintenance is vital not only to your success, but to your very continued existence. Unfortunately, you already agreed to Silas' schedule yesterday, and you are loathe to go back on it. Maybe a compromise will do, “Is three more days enough to finish the most important jobs, Goldsmith?” His face lit up slightly, and only slightly. Even if Goldsmith definitely hoped for more, this is still far better than arguing with the wall that is your second-in-command.

“Yes, a couple days to safely test out the new components, make sure their tech interface properly with ours, that is all I ask for. Thank you, ma'am. Now, if you will excuse me, I have a lot of changes to make to my boys' schedule.” He salutes you again, and briskly walks out of sight. Hopefully Silas will not be too angry the next time you meet.

Finally, you have some time for yourself. You want to fall on your bed immediately, let sleep carries you off, but diligence makes you check every corner of your room first for any signs of intruders. Nothing again. Just as you are about to finally call it in for the evening, something flits across the corner of your eyes. For the briefest moment you wonder whether you are hallucinating. No, there it is again. Stay calm, it seems to not have noticed you yet. From this distance, the object is gnatlike in shape and size, and you would have dismissed it as such had you not caught the sudden jolt of speed.

You pretend to continue with your bedtime routine at the usual speed while waiting for an opening. The upper drawer of you bedside cupboard contains a small hand mirror. You rarely use it, preferring the larger one in the bathroom, but today is its lucky day. With one set of fingers, you play with your hair while the others lean the mirror to and fro to keep track of the gnat. Your adversary is unlikely to be a woman, else she would have noticed how unusual it is to dress one's hair before sleep. You wiggle back and forth until the bedside taser is in reach. You have to act soon, before the other side gets anxious. No woman is so vain to keep looking at herself forever.

You too are anxious for the bug to get complacent. Closer, just a bit closer... And snap goes the trap. The EMP surge fries the delicate circuitry and a small wisp of smoke escapes the gnat like a death wheeze. Shit, you only wanted to disable the thing. Even so, you're sure someone could extract intel from this sad carcass. But who?

>>5923305
This is serious. The sooner you act, the more chance you have of catching the perp by surprise. But showing this bug to the wrong person can backfire just as hard. You roll your 1d100 three times for good luck. (DC 75 for all choices)
>Bring it to Tim. He's the one who clues you in to this whole wiretapping business in the first place.
>Bring it to Silas. No stranger to these tricks of the trade, he should know what to do.
>Bring it to Goldsmith. Even if stubborn and somewhat irascible, he seems the dependable sort.
>Make a public announcement. You shall shine the light all over these rats, hopefully flush them out. (charisma bonus applied)
>Autopsy the bug yourself. As long as you can find a decent guide in the ship database, you think you can do it. (+5 to difficulty)
>Write-in

Tomorrow I'm gonna go on a road trip with my family for a couple days so next update will be around Wednesday or so.

Rolled 78 (1d100)

>>5923306
>Autopsy the bug yourself. As long as you can find a decent guide in the ship database, you think you can do it. (+5 to difficulty)
Take care of yourself QM.

Rolled 3 (1d100)

>>5923306
>Bring it to Tim. He's the one who clues you in to this whole wiretapping business in the first place.

Rolled 93 (1d100)

>>5923306
>Bring it to Tim. He's the one who clues you in to this whole wiretapping business in the first place.
Have fun in your trip

>>5923306
>>Make a public announcement. You shall shine the light all over these rats, hopefully flush them out. (charisma bonus applied)

>>5923306
>Make a public announcement. You shall shine the light all over these rats, hopefully flush them out. (charisma bonus applied)

I'm back, but it seems like we are in a tie again. I will try posting an update tonight if there are new votes soon, but more likely the update will come tomorrow.

>>5923306
>Make a public announcement. You shall shine the light all over these rats, hopefully flush them out. (charisma bonus applied)

>>5925012
>>5925363
>>5926058
>PA

>>5924014
>>5924455
>Tim
>>5923619
>DIY

Roll: 93 vs. DC 75 - 7 = 68. Major Success.

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>>5926734
Crewmen hastily push against walls and hide behind corners to avoid the storm of rage barreling down the hallway. A few managing to keep their wits stand to attention as you pass, but most are too scared or wise to even look at you. All the drowsiness flushed from your system, you blow towards the bridge. Entering the familiar room, you are greeted by an unfamiliar hail of salutes, parade-standard. Someone must have run ahead and warned them. Normally, you would slow a little, bask in the aura of authority, but not today, not until this is done. A single traitor puts knives in all hands.

Silas, returning from comms, heads onto the bridge right behind you. “It's my watch, ma'am. What are you, huh...” You ignore him and make for the central console. A moment later, a mic squeal rings out across the ship, followed by a calm voice. “This is your captain speaking. There are turncoats on this ship. Come to me immediately if you know anything. I might just let you live. That is all. Have a good night. Over and out.” If your bridge is silent before, it might as well be spaced now. The illusion of vacuum hangs only a short moment before shattering into frantic whispers and murmurs. You turn to leave. Is Silas saying something to you? Maybe later.

You flush what's left of dinner down the toilet and rinse your mouth several times. Breath still reeks of whiskey. Not a fan of alcohol, but needed the courage. The crumpled piece of paper on which you initially planned your speech has fallen out of your pocket. You idly kick it towards the vroomba. Turns out, letting the whiskey speak was not so bad. A knock on your door. Quick, button the shirt and bend the collar. Who is it?

A gloomy Silas pushes past without a word. He takes the sound of the bolt shooting through the latch as his signal to explode. “What were you thinking, Vee, barging onto the PA like that?” The new pet name is not too bad, could have used a better debut.

“If you have given me a better crew, Silas, we wouldn't need this talk, or That talk.” Nova briefly blots out his eyes, but he quickly averts his gaze. “Good crew don't grow on trees. With the fleet expansion program going on we are lucky to even sail out with enough heads. Besides, HR's not my expertise.”

You lean to catch his eyes again. After a nova, no fire's left. “Precisely. You don't have to do everything by yourself, Silas. You trained me, remember? Now let me help you.”

Once the heat burns itself out, steel yet remains, tested and tempered. Silas firmly shakes his head. “No, I haven't taught you enough. The Directorate is not like your Coreworld equitocracy where you can just talk things out.”

“How else would you solve things, if not by talking them out?”

Silas sighs, “Enough of this. I can't make you un-say that speech. Only thing left's to deal with the coming shitstorm.” Just as he finishes the sentence, your door booms with rhythmic knocks again.

>>5926740
You check it as Silas scrambles into the bathroom. Through the peephole, Tim's hand is barely covering a yawn. You temporarily undo the latch to let him in before locking it again. His uniform is spotless as always. “Where's O'Keefe? Oh, there you are.” He gives you a ‘talk about this later’ look. “Anyway, did you know about this? Because I definitely did not.” Silas gives Tim that death glare. It was ineffective.

You break in between the two men. “It was my idea, get angry at me instead. But before that, let me" You are about to show them the roasted bug before instinct stops you. Both of them already told you their suspicions. That should be plenty reason for you to publicly threaten the entire crew, right? You take a breather, “I mean, let us think about what to do next.”

As always, Silas takes the lead. “Two way this can go. Number one, the men ignore you. Number two, they toss you out the airlock before week's out.” Tim chimes in “I would suggest asking our new friend on the station to let you hide there while we sort...” Someone is knocking on the door again. This time, however, the raps are unsteady, halting. Silas and Tim pile into the bathroom. The peephole reveals a young ensign fresh out of Academy. He gives you a shaky salute before shuffling in. Thankfully, he seems too fretful to recognise the suspiciously occupied bathroom.

"Ma'am, I think I know something. About what you said. But first, you have to promise to not kill me. I'm Ma and Pa's only child, please don't break their heart."
>Nod. You have no intention of killing anyone anyway.
>Smile. Put him on edge just a little, helps loose the tongue.
>Scowl. Remind him that his life is in your hands.
>Do nothing. He should be talking, not you.
>Write-in.

>>5926741
>>Smile. Put him on edge just a little, helps loose the tongue.

>>5926741
>Smile. Put him on edge just a little, helps loose the tongue.
We're sweet but deadly

>>5926741
>Smile. Put him on edge just a little, helps loose the tongue.

>>5926948
>>5927546
>>5928067
>Smile
so we're going for the femme fatale act, it seems.

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>>5928452
The ensign averts your gaze, visibly unnerved, “Ma'am, I'm sorry for not looking at you straight. It's j-just, your s-smile reminds me of Ma when she's upset.” His left leg awkwardly brushes up against your bed. Good.

“Your ma, didn't she also teach you to always look at your superior when talking to them?” He slowly raises his head, cheeks flushed so red you are sure you can squeeze the blood out of them like tomatoes.

“I'm sorry, ma'am. It won't, uhm, it won't happen again.” Push him harder, and he will probably make a right royal mess in your room. Let's pull back a bit. “Neither will I tolerate it. Now, stop wasting my time. What are you here for, Ensign...”

“Salzar. Ensign Antonio Salzar, ma'am. I'm here to report potentially subversive activities on our ship.” Beads of sweat are still rolling down his nose. “Go on, Sal-a-zar.”

“It's actually just Salzar." You give him the best imitation of Silas' glare you can manage. "Nothing, sir, I mean, ma'am. So a month ago, I woke up early and decided to take a walk to shake off Miss Sleep-.”

“Get to the point.” Salzar swallows, audibly and visibly. “I'm sorry. I tend to blabber a lot when I'm nervous.”

“The point is, when I got near the aft water reclaimer, I heard some strange noise. So I peered in, and saw them.” You cut in. “Saw who now? Come on, don't hold it in.”

“I don't know, ma'am, I swear. I couldn't get a good look, and they weren't wearing their uniforms. But they were definitely fixing up a large concave dish mounted under this weird metal mesh-dome. I was so scared I ran back to my bunk before they caught me.” How did this kid manage to get on this ship?

You start examining your perfectly plain nails in practiced distraction. “And you waited this long before telling me this?”

“I'm sorry, ma'am. I really wanted to do this earlier. I thought that they hadn't seen me, that I would be safe, but...” He fiddles around several of his pockets, before finally taking out a small piece of paper. “But I found this under my pillow at the end of my shift later that day. Said they knew where Ma and Pa lived. Said their friends would come have a chat with them if I didn't keep my mouth shut.”

>>5928454
The bathroom door suddenly swings open. Silas bursts out, his face a more murderous shade of red. “What did you say? Where's that damn piece of paper?” The ensign's heartstrings, already drawn taut, finally give, and he collapses on the spot. You hastily pick up the piece of paper before the vroomba sucks it up.

Tim follows, more calmly. “You scared the kid into fainting, O'Keefe.” He gives you a slight bow. “A testament to our here captain's prowess, edging him like that. You're sure she's just an office drone in her past life? Why, I can see her wearing an Inquirer's blue-gray.”

Silas takes a deep breath. “I'm sorry for ruining your performance like that. But this. is. serious. Red on blue? Fine, the men knew what they signed up for. But blue on blue? I will find and personally bash those fuckers' heads in. Our job is hard enough already.” His right hand curls into a fist.

“I share the sentiment. But we have to be careful about this. Whoever sets up that transmitter knew what they were doing, encasing it in a Faraday's cage and a wall of water like that to block unwanted emissions. One wrong move, and more than his parents' hearts will get broken.”

You put your hand on Silas' shoulder and firmly squeeze it, “Thank you, Tim. Silas, listen to him. Calm down, we need you right now.” His chest's heavings come to a gradual stop. His fingers ease back into their natural position, still tinged with white from pressure.

"So what do we do now?"

You were so excited earlier you accidentaly knocked your favourite dice off the table. Well, for this time sound judgement alone will have to do.
>Storm the transmitter. Damn the consequences, Salzar has already compromised himself, you have to act immediately to save his Ma and Pa.
>Set up cameras and motion detectors. With the heat from your earlier speech, only a fool would try sending any messages right now.
>Order combat station. Goldsmith will kill you later for stranding his engis outside like this, but it will at least buy you some time to figure this out.
>Focus on catching the blackmailers first. You will have to bet on the transmitter being anything other than q-pulse, the only comms capable of reaching Directorate volume from your current location.
>Write-in.

>>5928455
>Focus on catching the blackmailers first. You will have to bet on the transmitter being anything other than q-pulse, the only comms capable of reaching Directorate volume from your current location.

>>5928455
>Storm the transmitter. Damn the consequences, Salzar has already compromised himself, you have to act immediately to save his Ma and Pa.
That was a great scene qm

>>5928455
>Focus on catching the blackmailers first. You will have to bet on the transmitter being anything other than q-pulse, the only comms capable of reaching Directorate volume from your current location.

>>5928542
>>5929531
>Focus on the culprits

>>5928896
>Storm the transmitter

Since I get tomorrow off, I will post an update then as well to keep the action going.

>>5930151
“First, we do nothing to the transmitter.” Silas frowns in confusion, while Tim nods in pretend understanding. “No, I'm serious, it is best to ignore it right now. Goldsmith has already vac-gapped the ship, and if my little EVA walk with Tim a couple days earlier was any indication, God helps anyone who disobeys his quarantine.”

The two men are still hesitant. “Yes, I know the saying, a single traitor puts knives in all hands. But even if, say, they can broadcast at will, who can they contact realistically? This station is at least 50 light years away from the greater Mir network. Here, only q-pulse can reach the Directorate, and that does not need a Faraday cage.”

Tim rubs his chin, “It's possible the entire setup was just a distraction.” You are waiting for that question, “That is why I'm sending you to comms right now, Tim. Contact Salzar's parents, wire them a couple hundred creds, and tell them to skip town for a month or so.” He unconsciously lets out a smile, and after careful consideration decides to leave it there. For the first time, the uniform slips.

“Also, check with Moynihan next door after you're done. His dozen keyloggers or so could have picked up something useful.” Silas failed to hide his alarmed gaze in time. Bullseye. You never did find any bugs there, of course, but there's no way the old guard did not keep tabs on the ship's most important line to home somehow.

You turn to Silas, who seems to be arguing with himself whether to come clean or not. “And you, Silas. Don't worry, I understand. If there weren't any I would have ordered him to install some myself. As long as the intel's in good hands I won't fuzz too much over who's bugging who. Just stay out of my room, please.”

Silas sighs with a slight smirk. “Johnson was right then. Thank God I was faster than the blue-grays down in Section 11. What do you want me to do, commander?” Commander's still not captain, but the effort's appreciated nonetheless. “You are on watch, remember? Go back to the bridge, you're already drawing too much attention as it is.”

“I mean is there anything else I can do to help while I'm stuck there?” Silas calling his own duty ‘stuck,’ another first. Is cold-blooded calculation so valued out here?

“Well, if you insist. A shame our ensign here fainted, some more details would have been good.” You interrupt Silas before he could apologise, “No, it's my fault for stopping his ramblings. In any case, it can't be helped now.”

“But you can help by pulling up security footage of him in the past few hours. He's currently assigned to, let's see, ah, Turret 2-B. That should narrow your search a bit. If our pen pals here have any brains, they would have rushed someone to keep an eye on him after my little speech. In fact, the little rat may still be loitering about right now. Catch him for me, will you?" Silas nods in acknowledgement and turns to leave.

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>>5930153
“Before leaving, can you gentlemen help me move this kid onto my bed first? He will get a cold lying on the floor like that.” The two men look at one another, shamefaced. Before long, Salzar is sprawled out on the bed. By reflex, Tim cuffs his right hand to the nightstand. And here you thought Silas would be the careful one. Perhaps he's just well-disciplined.

“I will stay here in case anyone else wants to come forward. Good luck, both of you.” Better though to leave in turns, both of your officers are so wary of letting the other some alone time with their captain they ended up going out together. You lock the door behind them and sit on the bed, completely drained. Fighting your returning drowsiness, you try to think of something productive to do while watching the door.

So the d6 dice is there all along, how could you have missed it? You idly fidget with it, so distracted that the faces all become a blur after the first two rolls.
>Take a walk around the deck. You hate to leave Salzar unattended, but it would be easier for scared recruits to approach you outside of your room. (DC 2)
>Take a look at the gnat. Even in its current state, maybe something interesting can be gleamed. If you concentrate, that is. (DC 4)
>Take a glance through security footage around the transmitter. Complacency breeds pattern, and pattern breeds death. Or at least a very long stay in the brig. (DC 3)
>Take a shower in the bathroom. What you really need right now is some time to unwind your mind. You cannot afford to collapse like Salzar. (DC 1)
>Write-in.

Rolled 2 (1d6)

>>5930161
>>Take a shower in the bathroom. What you really need right now is some time to unwind your mind. You cannot afford to collapse like Salzar. (DC 1)

Rolled 4 (1d6)

>>5930161
>Take a shower in the bathroom. What you really need right now is some time to unwind your mind. You cannot afford to collapse like Salzar. (DC 1)
I come up with my cleverest ideas in the shower

>>5930161
>Take a glance through security footage around the transmitter. Complacency breeds pattern, and pattern breeds death. Or at least a very long stay in the brig. (DC 3)

Rolled 2 (1d6)

>>5930161
>Take a look at the gnat. Even in its current state, maybe something interesting can be gleamed. If you concentrate, that is. (DC 4)

>>5930161
>Take a shower in the bathroom. What you really need right now is some time to unwind your mind. You cannot afford to collapse like Salzar. (DC 1)

Next post will be coming tomorrow again. I'm considering running daily until we're done dealing with these moles.
>>5930205
>>5930343
>>5930535
>Shower

>>5930403
>Security review
>>5930439
>Bug autopsy

Roll: 4 vs. DC 1. Major success!
Just realised my oversight, you literally can't fail this check lol. Maybe that's for the best, I don't want to write Sylvie slipping on the wet floor and breaking her neck or some other ways you can fail to shower.

>>5930343
Me too. I usually plan out these posts while in the shower.
>>5928896
Thank you for the support! Any other comments or criticism are also welcome.

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Accidentally spoilered half my previous post, lol.
>>5931080
A shower would be good right about now. Your laser focus has served well, but equally it may have missed something important. Relaxation, far from a waste of time, may be just the chance for the slower, broader part of your thinking to catch up.

You wrap a hand towel around Salzar's head, taking care not to obstruct his nostrils. No naughty peeking. Then you turn on the water heater and start undressing. Shirt thrown back, pants fall down, undershirt pulled over he-, ah, almost forgot, cap lovingly placed on the table first, just under the table lamp. Once only the birthday suit remains, you grab a large towel from the closet and saunter into the bathroom.

The rush of steaming water over your head and hair is refreshing, luxurious. It's already almost a week since the last time you had a shower. In space, clean water is valuable, unsurprisingly. In front of you, the smooth plastic wall sweats off all condensation in beads streaming down the drain. Above you, the ventilator fan sucks in the steam and wrenches it dry like a rag.

Every drop of H2O on this ship has a name, number, and badge, theoretically accountable, but not always accounted for. Even this closed loop can only recycle 98% of all the water used. To compensate, more can be mined from ‘roids, but that takes time and fuel. Better to stretch out what you already have.

That is all besides the point. Or is it precisly the point, to let your mind wander? You close your eyes and peek out the tongue out a little to taste the wetness and tingling heat. Droplets ride your eyelashes all the way into the gap then stream out the corners like tears.

Your gaze can almost penetrate your eyelids. Under your skin, red water scrape against vein walls, itching to diffuse, radiate, permeate, to join the water without. Eyes still shut, you suddenly see.

The wall, a spot on the wall, the pipe underneath, the water riding it. You go against the stream, winding through tight corners, air bubbles, the occasional fleck of fluoride. Finally, arriving in the chamber where water is born, reborn. The reclaimer, one of three on the ship. This is the wrong one, straddled amidships. No matter, they are built similarly. With a flick of thought, now you are aft.

Under the roar of the filter pump, a discordant hum. This is not in the schematics. You follow it to the source, jumping from water molecule to copper electron, then departing as air. From the roof the transmitter came into full view, shielded, as Salzar has seen, under a wire mesh. Ultra-wideband, from the looks of it. Your bet has paid off, with the quarantine in place no one is using it anytime soon.

>>5931082
But can you see who has used it? The past jerks at you, but your feet won't budge. The shadow of your eyelids superimposes itself on the scene. Your conscious mind tries to salvage the illusion, but vision slips away like water off your back.

Slowly, your eyes open. There stands the wall. You shut off the water and dry yourself. Your imagination must be running wild again.

Your body is red all over, how long were you in there? You put on your shirt again, but deliberately leave the upper two buttons undone. Your body pants on the chair, your mind slips into dreamless sleep.

Several bangs jolt you awake. You scramble to the door, your right hand almost undoing the latch before your left hand caught it. Look through the peephole first.

A group of spacers are impatiently exchanging glances. Armed, but not visibly so. “Please open the door, cap't, we mean ya no harm, just want to set the record straight.”

Despite the violent interruption to your sleep, you feel strangely energised, prepared to do whatever necessary. You don't know how much time you have, however; so it might be best to focus on only one or two options.
>Run your mind through all the ways the convo can go. You prefer to talk them down if possible, but if not it's still a decent way to buy time.
>Pile up furniture on the door. Useless if they have brought explosives, but let's hope it does not come to that.
>Call Silas and Ludlow, your chief of security, for backup. They won't arrive immediately, however; not to mention they might escalate the situation further.
>Crack knuckles, sharpen knife, reload gun. Worst comes to worst, you won't go out quietly.
>Write-in

>>5931084
>Run your mind through all the ways the convo can go. You prefer to talk them down if possible, but if not it's still a decent way to buy time.
>Wake Salzar up, lock him up in the bathroom and tell him to relay everything he hears to Silas and Ludlow silently.

>>5931084
>Run your mind through all the ways the convo can go. You prefer to talk them down if possible, but if not it's still a decent way to buy time.
If it's possible pretend to be just fresh out of the shower. Wet our hair, cover ourself awkwardly with nothing but a large towel. Make the intruders feel guilty as fuck and lower their guard. Try to wake Salzar up but if he doesn't wake cover him under blankets, clothes and pillows.

>>5931084
Before getting into it we should remember that Sylvie is a charisma build not a fighter. We don't stand a chance in combat alone against a bunch of better armed and jumpy dudes. So we must use our wits and womanly charms to defuse this situation.

>Call Silas and Ludlow, your chief of security, for backup. They won't arrive immediately, however; not to mention they might escalate the situation further.
But tell them to remain out of sight unless we are personally attacked or in danger. Don't want the men to think that we are entrapping them.

>If it's possible pretend to be just fresh out of the shower. Wet our hair and body, cover ourself awkwardly with nothing but a large towel.
This a good idea. Turn the tables on them by giving us the right to be angry and open the conversation. Even the most hardened spacers would feel ashamed at disturbing a lady's privacy. Use the embarrassment to steer the conversation the way we desire.

>Run your mind through all the ways the convo can go. You prefer to talk them down if possible, but if not it's still a decent way to buy time.
I believe we can multi-task and do this as we are undressing.

>Finally we should attempt to keep Salzar out of sight if there's still time. Waking him up takes too long so just cover him up. I think the mens' gazes would be too focused on the floor and our body to notice the weird bulge on the bed.
When all that's done open the door with a determined iron stare.

I really enjoy reading your guy's proposals to the little situation we have here. Unfortunately, some issues suddenly cropped up earlier at work today and I am still dealing with the fallout. Hopefully I can clear up everything by tomorrow and post an update then.

>>5931283
+1
This plan is pretty solid.

>>5931937
No problem QM.

Everything worked out well in the end, thankfully. I should be able to keep to the daily schedule.
>>5931131
>>5931200
>>5931283
>Appear unthreatening, hide salzar

>>5931131
>Same plan but try to shake salzar awake

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>>5932844
Calm down, put that derringer back into the holster. You can't shoot your way out of this, there's five of them to one of you. You take a quick glance at your digital wristwatch. 23:24. So you have only dozed off for an hour or so.

First thing first, call Silas. Before you can even pick up the transmitter, the voicetube bursts with profanities, “Do you hear me, you sonofabitch? I will fucking impale you.” Shit, he sounds angry. “Sorry, sorry, I'm here, what's the problem?” On second thought, it doesn't seem aimed at you. “Oh thank god, I thought you were already done for. Never mind all that, then." No, definitely not. Those men outside just narrowly escaped death.

"A group of five, maybe more, is heading towards your cabin. I already pinged Ludlow, just buy him some time to bring the cavalry over." You don't know Ludlow, your chief of security, as well as you would like, but it is obvious the man has a short fuse. And these spacers are jumpy. If he comes in guns blazing, you and Salzar will leave this room in L-bags.

“No, tell him to stand down. Wait, scratch that, have him and his men stay off the main corridor as much as they can. And keep a low profile.” Unlike Silas' nook, yours has to remain close to the bridge, right next to a large hallway. The traffic is annoying usually, but for once you thank it for helping Ludlow's boys blend in.

“Yes, I will relay your orders ASAP. Also, do you want me to come as well?” Well, a potential mutiny does sound like a good reason to abandon your post. “Yes, it will be good to have you here. Ludlow has a rather itchy trigger finger.” Silas bellows some half-intelligible orders to a hapless ensign. “Just keep the door shut tight and hang on. Over and out.”

23:26. Silas will get here in two minutes. Lucky he kept his cool and hadn't done so already. Ludlow should be ready in no more than ten. You would know, this was the first scenario he (literally) whipped his recruits into mastering right after you left port. Even so, it would be better if you can defuse this somehow.

What is your leverage against these men? Threats won't do, they had enough courage to come here, they will have enough courage to stay here. But appealing to their natural urge to protect the fairer sex might just work. Not to mention you had a reputation for being an airhead. Had, because you're unsure how much of it survives the public announcement. Well, you can still act the part of foolish girl getting in way over her head.

To do this, you have to appear harmless. Or even better, unaware of your own harmlessness, like housecat playing tiger. You quickly undress and wet your hair and face in the bathroom sink. After wrapping yourself in the largest towel you can find, you hastily throw on your uniform shirt and cap. Only a foolish girl would think that half-worn uniform is a sign of authority.

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>>5932848
You (pretend to) pretend to strut haughtily towards Salzar's bedside. The gait seems right, just jut the chin out a bit more. The kid's still fast out. You draw the blanket over his face and pad out the large lump with additional pillows. 23:28. You turn to the door. One-two, one-two, pa-rade, per-fect.

The man at the door is visibly shorter than the rest. He quickly covers his eyes, “Sorry, didn't know. Ma'am.” You stand your ground, a fair distance from him. The group's clown whistles loudly. You pop your eyeballs out at him. “Is it urgent? Or can I...”

“No, no. I mean, yes, uh, sorry for interrupting ya, ma'am. Yes, please go back to shower or whatever ya doing.” The door bangs shut with tantrum force before he can finish the sentence. You take your sweet time changing back to your usual uniform, even putting on some cologne and light make-up. No earphone, however, you saw one of them fiddling with an EM detector.

23:42. All you need to do is breathe into the receiver, hide in the bathroom, and wait for the carnage to end. But you can't do that. Those crewmen seem genuine, despite whatever they're trying to do. You put the cap back on the wine-dark lipstick, purse your lips a couple times, and push the chair back with rose-red fingers. This way, you won't blame yourself later for not trying.

Shorty is pacing around as you open the door again. “Sorry to keep you waiting.” He nods his comrade to stand down. “It's fine. Our fault really. As I said, we just wanted to talk. Alright for us to come in?” You ruefully shake your head. “No, it's a mess in here. Let me come out.” You spin your hand up and down repeatedly in mock exercise as you walk out. Hopefully Silas got the hint.

“That kid Salzar's still inside, ain't he not?” There goes that faint hope. “Mighty fine of ya to look out for him like that, ma'am. Many other capt' would gladly throw their men outta lock just to save their skin.”

You try your best to keep a poker face, “What do you want with him? He is under my protection now, so don't-” The whistling clown from earlier breaks in with a laugh, “try anything stupid. Yes, we know. Dick, go watch the corridor. I'll handle this from here.” Short Dick takes the cue and leaves you two.

“As Dick said, that alone is worthy of respect. And not a small bit of sadness. Captains like you, they never last too long out here.” What is this fool rambling on about? He must know Silas and Ludlow are tuning in for every sign of hostility. “I take the compliment, but not the threat,” you glance at his name tag, “Petty Officer Chernov.”

>>5932851
"So how is this going to go? Do you want to talk, or head back into your room so that dog Ludlow can run loose?"
>"If you are bringing me a deal, then spit it out. Don't waste my time with all this brow-beating."
>"Ludlow, Silas. If you can hear me, come out now. Let us all put away our guns before talking."
>"Surrender right now. Ludlow won't suffer insults like that. By the time he ‘hears’ my orders, you would all be dead."
>"Go, Silas, go." Kick Chernov in the groin and kiss the deck.
>Stare at him silently.
>Write-in

>>5932852
>"If you are bringing me a deal, then spit it out. Don't waste my time with all this brow-beating."
I do love it when we play the dumb femme fatale.

>>5932852
>"Surrender right now. Ludlow won't suffer insults like that. By the time he ‘hears’ my orders, you would all be dead."
We already have them in our clutches.

>>5932852
>"If you are bringing me a deal, then spit it out. Don't waste my time with all this brow-beating."

>>5932852
>"Ludlow, Silas. If you can hear me, come out now. Let us all put away our guns before talking."

>>5932852
>"If you are bringing me a deal, then spit it out. Don't waste my time with all this brow-beating."
Let's hear him out first

Since a major choice is coming up, I will leave everyone two days to decide the best course of action.
>>5932915
>>5933131
>>5933690
>Listen to the deal

>>5933576
>Disarm Silas and Ludlow first

>>5933007
>Order him to surrender

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>>5933733
There must be a reason Chernov is so confident, dragging his lackeys all the way here. If he has some sort of dead man's switch, then you need to know what it is before arresting him. Best way to do that? Keep him talking. "If you are bringing me a deal, then spit it out. Don't waste my time with all this brow-beating."

“Good, we're finally going somewhere. The deal is simpl-” The fool dared interrupt you before, and a kitty holds her grudges. “I won't be giving up Salzar, find some better terms.” Petty, but worth it to see the frustration writes itself across his face.

“No, I don't care about that ensign. Actually,” he bows deeply, “I figure I should apologize to him on my crew's behalf. They were supposed to bribe him with money taken out of their bonuses, not making threats they can't deliver on." Bonuses? Threats they can't deliver? Interesting. You nod, “And I'm listening on Salzar's behalf, go on.”

Chernov's hand bolts up to cover his mouth, “Shit, my mouth's running off again. Forget all that." And you thought this is going to be more difficult. Goes to show why the class clown should not be trusted to run revolutionary cells. “Why should I? Are you turning back on the apology? Remember, I will take your attitude into account later when judging your little ‘crew.’” Your pinky finger playfully dances before his face.

“What happens in the family stays in the family. What happens in the family...” The pinky moves closer, latches onto the calloused hand, and slowly, slowly peels it off his flushed face. “Whatever you are saying, louder please. I'm your captain, you can trust your captain.”

His other arm smacks your finger off, “Don't test me, you" You let your face instinctively act out the dull pain. Terror immediately blanches your opponent's face. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean, I mean." He falls silent. Perfect.

You strain out a smile. “It's ok, I should have known. You are confused, hurt.” Your hand's held out towards him again. “Just remember, I am not your enemy.” If you are a cat acting tiger, then this fool's a mouse believing himself the sun.

Unfortunately, Chernov quickly recovers. Not wishing to continue the match of wits, he places a sealed envelope in your outstretched palm. “I think we should stop here. I don't know nearly as much as you think I do.” Not so fast. Straight into the breast pocket the letter goes.

He leans over you to open the door. “The letter's the deal. Please read it. In the privacy of your room is best.” Even if you insist on resuming, your opponent is unlikely to be as cooperative. Fine, then. After closing the door, you watch through the peephole to gauge the crew's reaction. Only a lone sentry, called back from perimeter duty, is left behind to guard the door. Before reading the letter, you check on Salzar. Nope, still unconscious.

>>5933734
The knife slices easily through the envelope. The letter itself is printed on good paper, subtly off-white, tastefully thick. A soft hint of mahogany and amber wafts around the desk. You spend some time deciphering the elegant cursive. So that's the switch.

A short while after, you pick up the line to bridge. Tim was on the other side, “Oh, so you're back. Let me patch O'Keefe in as well.” Silas' familiar voice is of little comfort, “So how's everything down there? Ludlow's boys are all set to go. Just give the word.”

Your voice can't help but be robotic, listless, “This is bad. The Saak Family has smuggled malicitite onto this ship.” The line temporarily goes dead. Tim struggles to spell out each word, “Can you repeat that? Ma-li-ci-tite?” Silas cuts him off, “Those Percheron whores put WHAT on my ship? Fuck this, I'm going in.” You and Tim groan in unison, “No! Wait!”

You continue alone, “They don't call it the Devil's March for no reason. Half your marines will be dead before we can put a stop to the rampage. If we can even stop it. Not to mention the collateral." Realising you will get caught right in the epicenter, he cools down slightly, “All right, but keep your voice down. If Ludlow hears this...”

Tim asks in hushed tone, “So what do they want to do with it?” You sigh, “The letter was written by someone higher-up and entrusted to this op's leader, a Petty Officer Chernov, false name most likely, before we even left Lighton. If the ship's captain gets too close to busting the run, the leader is supposed to come clean. Or more precisely, he needs to drag us into the mud as well."

“In short, the letter's offering us a 5% cut of the shipment's value, or 120,000 credits, transferred as soon as delivery's confirmed.” Less pertinent officers being asked to overlook less interesting cargo would have whistled at the figure. But here, you can almost see Silas shaking his head, “No, they can offer me five times as much and I still won't touch it.” Tim concurs, “Can't retire in peace while chased by a Restless hangman. Still, this is your call to make, ma'am.” A final question from Silas, “Who's the receiver, by the way?”

“A certain Madame Liu, that privateer captain. Has she answered our feeler?” You are met with restrained laughter, “Of course it's that dumb broad. Her reply just came in too: she wants to meet us, alone, before the Molosses hit-and-run.”

Once, the Red Scourge fought, and almost won, a war of assimilation against humanity. This is its last legacy: malicitite, a combat drug which promises its users but a fraction of that hideous strength. With this, even a mouse can briefly burn like the brightest star and throw entire sectors into chaos. It now falls upon you to deal with this cache.
>Just this time, history will turn its face towards the past and let the present freely chooses its own future. (Write-in, DC 0)

>>5933746
Also, if you have any questions, just ask. I will post an interlude tomorrow to answer them without spoiling too much.

>>5933746
Sounds like it's more trouble than its worth. Do we have to fight through the smugglers if we jettision it?

>>5933748
What are the downside of accepting the deal?

>>5933774
You are jettisoning over 2 million credits worth of contraband. Chernov might be talked into allowing you to do so (after all, he doesn't know all the details about the deal), but his boss will be none too pleased.
>>5934274
Well, the standard response to Malicitite sightings drilled into every Terran child regardless of gender, class, or ethnicity is to contact the WHO and let them handle it from there. Doing anything else (for example, possessing and distributing it) is generally treated on the same scale as treason at best, and crimes against humanity at worst by all human governments.

Outside of that there are also rumours of (supposedly) immortal agents running around killing everyone who might have been involved with the substance in some way.

So unless you are afraid of laws and ghosts, no, there is no downsides to taking the deal.

>>5934441
120k credits to be hunted down by Mossad? Fuck that.

Here's the interlude. Remember to put your choice in greentext when voting. Some ideas for approaching the situation
>Take the deal
>Talk Chernov into surrendering
>Go violent, preferably after you find a way to gtfo first.
>Find and secure the cache to get an upper hand

>>5934608
Before heading to the officer's mess for dinner, Lieutenant Silas O'Keefe decided to stop by his new commander's office to give his daily report. He did not have to do so in person of course, a written note would do, but over the past few weeks this meeting had become a ritual of sort. Yes, ritual would be the right word for it, seeing how both men could, would rather be anywhere else, yet when the clock strikes eighteen sharp they would always find themselves in the same place anyway.

And so Silas counted out the unchanging number of steps, 220, from the bridge down the brightly lit hallway. At step number 200, the same routine desire to keep on walking past the captain's bedroom once again gripped his legs. And just as routine, his sense of duty won out. After all, it would simply not do for a fighting ship's commanding officer to not speak to his executive at least once a day.

Did he regret signing on to the privateer company, Dyrnwyn's Black Sun? No, not really, although he would dearly love to know what the hell Dyrnwyn means. In all honesty, this was as close to his childhood's dream as he could realistically get. And to think once he had all but given up on it after 12 years crawling through the same old trade lanes on that rusting hulk. Thankfully, finally, belatedly, someone recognised his combat ability and put him on this beauty of a cruiser. Hell, he might even fancy himself the real captain because that landlubber title-holder almost never left his bedroom office anyway.

So engrossed was Silas that he almost overshot the little hatch door. Just in time, a voice thundered from the room and jerked him out of the pleasant daydream. Back here in reality, he was just a sidekick, and the real captain was arguing with someone on the phone.

It would certainly be rude to interrupt his superior. Maybe he should leave and return later, but what if some spacer wandered here and accidentally eavesdropped on our dear captain? No, as a faithful exec it is his duty to stay here and stand watch. If he heard anything it was only by unavoidable accident.

“No, I'm sorry, Mr. Saak, but we cannot take on this job. This is a fresh crew, I don't know their cool yet.” Saak, as in the Saak Family? What's his commander to do with that crime syndicate? “Yes, I know, it is urgent, and my ship is unlikely to get searched, but what if they got a tip? I can't spoil her maiden voyage."

A rolling bead of sweat hit Silas' lips, the dull salt a pale evocation of Blue Earth's seas. He tried to conjure up images of the contract he signed a few months ago. What was the penalty for resigning? 12 years of painstaking honesty, he could not let it all get washed down the drain like this.

“All right, then. Since you are so generous with the bonus. Long night.” Silas waited a little before knocking on the door. "You're late, come in."

>>5934611
His commander's pale face looks even more gaunt than usual. Stabbing chin, hooked nose, needle eyes. Matched his name perfectly. “Captain Raymond Thornton. I'm here for the report.”

There was nothing to report. Or rather, nothing which would interest this man before him. Training exercises, equipment status, not even disciplinary actions were of any consequence. The roles were simple. Silas talked, Thornton occasionally nodded. Follow this formula, and maintain the thin veneer of professionalism.

As Silas wrapped up and prepared to leave, Thornton took out a folded map. He unfurled it, revealing a diagram of the ship. A red marker had been used to circle this and that section. “Do you see these spots I have marked?” Silas was not blind, but he wanted to shake his head anyway. “These are hidden compartments spread throughout the ship. I want you to check each of them tomorrow, make sure they hold up to scrutiny.”

“With all due respects, sir, I can't do that.” The captain's brows rose arrowlike. “Why not? Just set aside your schedule for a day. We have plenty of time, don't we?”

“Sir, I have to ask that you put away that map and I will pretend to have seen nothing. This is an auxiliary vessel of the Liteian Navy, operating under the Directorate's laws.” Silas' mind raced with calculations. How long could he survive off of his savings while looking for a new job?

“Oh, I see where we are going. Let me remind you that the Vanilla Skyline is my property, and I am only temporarily hiring her out to this peripheral polity.” Save that for the customs inspector. “Even if you personally disagree with the law,”

“Yes, yes, I do disagree with your laws. But that does not mean I am going to break it.” He leaned back in his chair. “Tell me, Silas, what is your dream?”

“Captain Thornton, I don't believe we should address one another by name yet.” Thornton laughed. “Oh, you're good, but too stuffy sometimes. Alright then, O'Keefe, what is it you desire most?” As if reading Silas' mind, he continued. “Speak straight. You have my permission.”

>>5934612
Why was he stuck with this eccentric man, Silas would never know. “I want to one day command a ship like yours. Uh, a different ship of course.”

“Hah, that's a good one. So we are similar on that account, you and I. A smoke?” No, Silas didn't want to die like his father. “Don't know why I keep doing that...”

After puffing out a couple donuts, Thornton turned somber, “I like your honesty. So let me be honest with you too. One day, your wish will come true. And it will not be a different ship.”

“I can't keep on borrowing time. A month, a year, ten years from now, when the creditor, or time lord, or whatever, comes knocking, this ship will pass on to you. But don't get too cocky, you will only be holding it in trust for someone else.”

A large envelope was thrust into Silas' hand. “My will. Keep it, it's your copy. Don't ask. I know you will follow my instructions."

Thornton leaned over the table, uncomfortably close, his voice lowered, “Strictly off the book between you and me. If she resists, spike her drink, beat her senseless, I don't care, drag her to her birthright. She won't understand at first. She hates me, and will probably hate you too. But she's smart, adaptable. A finer captain than me. Or you. Maybe one day she will even give you a ship of your own...” He sat straight up again, "All hypothetical, of course. You are dismissed.”

Utterly surprised, Silas stood frozen in the hallway, hands still clutching the will. His boss' voice boomed again, “Hello, is this Giuseppe's Pizza? Yes, yes, I have seen the gold rush on Triton, and I would like to place an order to Hab-unit A13-4 next Tuesday 8:00pm.”

>>5934608
>Talk Chernov into surrendering
It's not worth it

>>5934608
>>Talk Chernov into surrendering

>>5934608
>>Talk Chernov into surrendering

My wife will have some friends over tomorrow, and depending on how drunk I get I might not be able to post an update.
>>5934739
>>5935136
>>5935342
>Talk him into surrendering

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>>5935566
You sit on the floor, toes wagging in the fluorescent light, shoes neatly tucked by your side. Outside of those two things, the world is spinning itself into a blur.

It has started harmlessly. To help yourself focus, you imagined yourself walking a tightrope. Then your mind filled in the blanks.

A limpid lamp shines lazily above, letting just enough of its light slide down to tempt you to look beneath. You looked, and immediately regretted it. Your eyes rode the barest outline of the cliff wall to a darkness of no bottom. Arms shuddered, feet slipped, and the world has been spinning ever since.

It should end any moment now. Keeping both sets of eyes closed, you sound out the next conversation you will have with Chernov.

“Surrender, you can't run.” No, that should come near the end, a climax of sorts. “I have thought your offer over.” No, too non-committal. “What are you thinking, bringing that onto my ship?” No... On second thought, maybe, if you also act appropriately alarmed. Make him dance to your beat, just like his boss did to you. Yes, so far you have been the good cop. Now's time for the counterpoint. Holding onto your desk for support, you slowly rise.

Chernov's men are playing blackjack, not bothering to break up the game even when you step out of the room. No professionals would have let their boredom show like that. The ringleader himself is practicing his whistling. An advert's theme, but the last note's plain off. You grab his collar, “What are you thinking, bringing that onto my ship?”

His men scrambled to get up. About ten seconds later, half a dozen pistols are finally pointed at you. Too slow, you could have easily killed their dear leader if you wished. If Silas and Ludlow take them similarly by surprise, before they can snort the March...

>>5935570
Chernov frantically waves his arms, “Take it easy, now. No need to fight. I know it is customary to clear all runs with the captain first, but, but I thought bossman already briefed you. Really.” You push him against the wall. The barrels inch closer.

“If bossman tells you to hang yourself, would you do that too? Because that's what you just did.” Some shoddy trigger discipline there. A sneeze and your head will be blown off. “Wh-what? I-it's not that bad, just some combat drug, is all.” No one sane would call malicitite ‘just’ a combat drug. Seems like bossman forgot to brief him as well.

You twist your hands, nails digging into the soft fat. Any more, and you'll be pushing gas for the rest of your life. “Just some combat drug? Are you even listening to yourself? If the Restless catch you...” You duck your head in anticipation. At the mention of the name, a shot rings off. Thankfully, Dick's lack of height works in his favour for once.

Pitifully, Chernov pleads, “Put away your gun, put them away, for void's sake.” He tries, but fails to match your gaze. “You are not kidding, right? Don't joke about the Devil's March, it's not funny.” Any guise of discipline amond the ranks is now lost. Someone is obsessively muttering a spacer prayer, “Keep this dust in, keep stardust out, ‘til the hour comes, ’til the hour comes.”

You let his shirt go. The man effortlessly sinks onto the floor.

If there's any time for Silas and Ludlow to go in, it's now. Conversely, maybe you can talk them into surrendering. You try to remember all the 1d100s you rolled for good luck before heading out, but only the first two come to mind.
>Signal for reinforcements. Now they will know what it feels like to be on the wrong end of a laser lense. (DC 50, some casualties to be expected)
>Promise Chernov safety. You push him off into the sea, now it's time to throw him a lifeline. (DC 75)
>Rile up Chernov's men against him. Cooperate, and only the scapegoat's head needs to roll. (DC 60, Chernov will remember this)
>Say nothing, let them work it out among themselves. (something may happen; perhaps nothing)
>Write-in (I will decide DC)

Rolled 66 (1d100)

>>5935573
>Promise Chernov safety. You push him off into the sea, now it's time to throw him a lifeline. (DC 75)

Rolled 42 (1d100)

>>5935573
>>Promise Chernov safety. You push him off into the sea, now it's time to throw him a lifeline. (DC 75)

Rolled 86 (1d100)

>>5935573
>Promise Chernov safety. You push him off into the sea, now it's time to throw him a lifeline. (DC 75)

>>5935573
>Promise Chernov safety. You push him off into the sea, now it's time to throw him a lifeline. (DC 75)

>>5935573
>Rile up Chernov's men against him. Cooperate, and only the scapegoat's head needs to roll. (DC 60, Chernov will remember this)

Fuck I had already written half my post when wangblows suddenly crashed on me. I'm phoneposting rn while troubleshooting my desktop. Hopefully I might be able to recover my data but I'm not getting my hopes up prematurely.

>>5937413
Thread end curse hitting early

I dropped off my desktop at a repair shop today, by tomorrow they will hopefully have some good news for me. Even if the worst case happens I have already backed up everything in an external hard drive a couple weeks ago so I shouldn't lose too much work.
>>5935657
>>5935750
>>5935765
>>5936656
>Promise safety

>>5937369
>Shift the blame

Roll: 66 vs. 75 - 7 = 68. Minor Failure.
so close

>>5937456
If this is the curse then I'm kinda glad tbdesu. Sure beats almost snapping my neck.

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>>5938523
You crouch in front of Chernov and whisper conspiratorially, “It doesn't have to be this way. You and I have both been fooled. The only way to save our hides now is working together.” You lean in until you can feel his breath on your cheek. Mint, not bad. “Remember what I said earlier? I am on your side. Always.”

Chernov also whispers, but to no one in particular. “I have been fooled. Yes, yes, fooled. But who? Who did this? Was it Kostya? Serik? Or, Zhaniya? Yes, perhaps, she was always jealous of my position.” You cannot let him chew on the rug's corner like this. His men are too restless.

“It doesn't matter, you have all the time to figure that out later. After we have pulled through this alive.” You extend a hand towards him again. Chernov remains paralysed from the neck down, a wreck where a leader once was. Your eyes appeal in silence, “Take it, pull yourself together, please. If not for your own sake then for your men. For me.”

He shakes his head, raving in laughter. “What does it matter? What does it matter? Our hour has come. Yours and mine. Soon they will come, the forsworn. Our lifetime will be cut short, added to their unending crusade.” Among the men, a mood comes alive, a mixture of fear and not a small bit of defiance. Cold steel presses against your temple.

“No, no, don't let them snatch your time, my little captain. A spacer can die at any moment, breath squeezed out of him by void.” His hazel eyes burns like coal, arms twitching. Your hand still hangs in the air, expectantly. “But damn him if he lets someone else chooses his end.” You throw yourself forward to catch his gun, but the bastard was too fast.

The smell of burnt meat stings your nostrils. Laser burned cleanly, the sutured hole barely letting out any red. He is dead, isn't he? Why? Is it you? Could you have saved him? You could have said it differently. You should have reached out, held him tight. You failed to save him. You killed him.

You can barely make out the shouts above your mind's verdict. There's short Dick, “Boss's dead. What do we do?” “We can't all make it out alive. The Restless need someone to punish.” They are now aiming their guns at one another, it seems. You listen to Chernov. Eyes wide open, lips sealed shut, the dead man delivers his last judgement, “Look at your hands, Sylvia.” They're red.

“We can pin it on her, she's the captain. It's custom.” You close your eyes, but the inside of the lids has also been painted red. “... flow down, guilt flows up.” You curl up, fingers locked against one another. “If we even get back in one piece. Ludlow...” Mother's lullaby washes over your ears.

“Hey, what happened? My watch's over like 10 minutes- oh shit.” Sleep tight, sleep nice, my child. “Hands where I can see 'em!” Something, or someone, crashes onto you. The world goes black, hopefully for the last time.

>>5938524
You fall for a long time. There's that lamp again, shining lazily over you, but this time, there's no cliff wall, no nothing. You don't even feel the rush of air bellowing your cheeks. How do you even know you are falling then? Maybe you are rising instead. But it matters little flying, flowing, falling when there's nowhere to go in this vast emptiness.

Suddenly, the light grows stronger. You would close your eyes, but you can't move your lids, as if they are made of stone, or have been corroded away. “You are not ready. You can't join us yet. No one will remember you. Go back. Go.” You wake up to blinding white.

“Easy now, easy.” Silas. “You are one lucky son of a gun, you know that? Right in the middle of a gunfight, yet made it out without so much as a scratch.” Another voice chimes in, “Well, if you don't count that a full-grown man falling onto her anyway.” What happened? You try to get up.

“Whoa, whoa, not so fast. Just lie down and rest, will ya? Everything's under control. Three dead, two in ‘eater, the rest behind bars. The kid Salzar's also fine. Slept on right through the whole thing.” You take a deep breath and nod.

"We've also located the stash. So much of the stuff Ludlow almost deluded himself into thinking he could take on an entire Undying company. What do you want to do with it, boss? Don't sweat yourself too much, you can answer that later if you want."
>Jettison it into a star first chance you get. Jettison the smugglers too if they can't keep their mouths shut.
>Contact the emergency WHO hotline. They might force you to abort the sortie, but better an early return than an early grave.
>Finish the delivery. Not even Fleet Intelligence seems to know anything about the run yet, else Jean-Pierre would have told you.
>Tribute it to Yamir-Hysret. Pahar, Palan, whats-his-name's initiation ceremony is coming soon, and this would make a nice gift.
>Do nothing. The stash won't sprout legs and run while you are resting.
>Write-in.

>>5938526
>>Jettison it into a star first chance you get. Jettison the smugglers too if they can't keep their mouths shut.
Too bad about the dead. At least spacer lifes are cheap.

>>5938526
>>Jettison it into a star first chance you get. Jettison the smugglers too if they can't keep their mouths shut.

>>5938526
>>Tribute it to Yamir-Hysret. Pahar, Palan, whats-his-name's initiation ceremony is coming soon, and this would make a nice gift.

>>5938526
>Contact the emergency WHO hotline. They might force you to abort the sortie, but better an early return than an early grave.

>>5938526
>Jettison it into a star first chance you get. Jettison the smugglers too if they can't keep their mouths shut.

>>5938526
>Contact the emergency WHO hotline. They might force you to abort the sortie, but better an early return than an early grave.
Get on the good side of authorities

Well, my PC is fine now, after replacing one of the ram cards. Thankfully no important data was lost as well. Also since this whole action is winding down I will be returning to my regular schedule.
>>5938533
>>5938614
>>5939332
>Jettison

>>5939636
>>5938776
>Contact authorities

>>5938679
>Tribute

>>5938533
Not as cheap as you'd think. Murder in space is still murder, and will be treated with due severity. If everyone wants to go that route then be prepared to cover up the crime.

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>>5940280
“Can you stuff a couple pillows behind my back? It feels weird giving orders while lying down like this.” Soon enough you are propped up semi-comfortably against the medbay walls. Sitting a corner stool, Silas is watching both you and the entrance. “Where is Tim, I mean Johnson? I'm quite certain I heard his voice earlier.”

“Well, I called him when ya woke up. He popped his head in for a minute, then back to the bridge he went.” If it is not his watch right now, you doubt Johnson would have given Silas free reign over their captain like this. “So, don't you have anything more useful to do than sitting around here?”

“Don't hurt ma feelings like that. I can run the whole ship from this room if I wanta.” Something struck you. Isn't Silas usually much more articulate whenever you two are alone? If he is putting on the blue collar act right now, that could mean only one thing. “I was just poking a little fun at you.” You feign a smile.

“But anyway, about the stash...” He pulls his stool closer. “Move it to the nearest airlock. Then once we are clear of the station, and Yamir's watchful eyes, we'll space it all into the nearest star. Chernov's merry crew can join in the fun too, if they don't learn to keep their mouths shut.”

A wrinkle forms on your second officer's forehead. “I see where ya going, but'cha already think this through, right? This will seriously piss off everyone who has an interest in them chems. The Saaq, that whore Liu, even the Restless won't be happy ya solve things this way.” He sniggers, “Not that I'm afraid of them. Not when you are here.”

“Yes, positively. If we play our cards right, none of them will learn a thing about what happened today.” Chernov's dead eyes peer out from Silas for a moment, but you shake the vision off. “Yesterday. Ya were out for a whole day.” Someone knocks on the door. So this is what officer's privilege feels like, getting your very own medbay room for recovery.

Silas answers it, “Oh, Dr. Tsu. Yes, yes, please come in.” A young man in his mid-thirties, clad in antiseptic white, nods at you. You only faintly remember him from the little meet and greet before the ship left Lighton. A surgeon hailing from the wartorn Kaskandir region, he had a reputation for unorthodox excellency. Or at least that's what Silas told you.

“Lift your arm, captain. I still have other patients waiting.” He brusquely pokes a stethoscope at your breast, “In, out, in, out, yes, just so. Everything is good, so I would appreciate it if you vacate the room by tomorrow. Surgery for one of those.” He gives Silas a sidelong glance, “workplace accidents. Curious how they got such severe internal bleeding. Must have taken quite the beating.” Silas remains uncharacteristically calm.

>>5940286
Tsu returns his attention to you, “I don't know what you are doing, captain, but I suggest you take steps to ensure this doesn't happen again. Have a nice day.” He leaves without another word.

“Don't judge him too harshly. He served on Tama-3. Seeing all the needless deaths on that barren rock would make any soldier a rebel. Any medic doubly so. Rest assured, he still has your back.” Silas takes something out of his pockets.

"Oh, I borrowed these on my way here. Ya always love playing with them before making any important decisions. Catch." You catched one 1d100 dice after another with both hands, four in all. Only the two highest rolls impress you.

"So, what do ya want done to the survivors. They have all kept their lips tight until now, no small part thanks to me forbidding Ludlow from taking any ‘drastic’ measures. A shame ya can't see him in action." Charisma bonus does NOT apply.
>Give them the watersurf treatment. (DC 35)
>Offer a reward for any talker. (DC 50, -5000 credits)
>Continue with his current efforts. (DC 60)
>Spaced them all after you're done. No loose ends. (DC 60 to destroy the evidence. Can be combined with other options, if not chosen then they will be held in the brig.)
>Write-in

"There's also the matter of checking the ship. If there are any other rats on the ship, now's our last chance to catch them before word spreads of what happened." DC unknown, can choose multiple options.
>Sweep the ship from bow to stern. (+5 days to your schedule)
>Check only the most suspicious sections. (+3 days)
>Have Goldsmith keep on working as normal while the scan's happening. (+1 day)
>Install additional security measures throughout the ship (+3 days)
>Block all private transmissions to and from the ship. (-morale)
>Write-in

Rolled 68 (1d100)

>>5940288
>Continue with his current efforts. (DC 60)
>Spaced them all after you're done. No loose ends. (DC 60 to destroy the evidence. Can be combined with other options, if not chosen then they will be held in the brig.)

>Install additional security measures throughout the ship (+3 days)

>>5940288
>You catched
Caught

>>5940288
>>Spaced them all after you're done. No loose ends. (DC 60 to destroy the evidence. Can be combined with other options, if not chosen then they will be held in the brig.)
>Sweep the ship from bow to stern. (+5 days to your schedule)
Fuck the rats

>>5940412
This is embarrassing. What is even more embarrassing is the fact that I did not know my note taking app has a built-in spell check feature until now. I finally manage to find and enable it so slips like this should not happen again.

Rolled 93 (1d100)

>>5940288
>Continue with his current efforts. (DC 60)
>Spaced them all after you're done. No loose ends. (DC 60 to destroy the evidence. Can be combined with other options, if not chosen then they will be held in the brig.)

>Check only the most suspicious sections. (+3 days)
>Install additional security measures throughout the ship (+3 days)

Rolled 72 (1d100)

>>5940288
>Give them the watersurf treatment. (DC 35)
>Spaced them all after you're done. No loose ends. (DC 60 to destroy the evidence. Can be combined with other options, if not chosen then they will be held in the brig.)

>Check only the most suspicious sections. (+3 days)

Rolled 88 (1d100)

>>5940288
>Continue with his current efforts. (DC 60)
>Spaced them all after you're done. No loose ends. (DC 60 to destroy the evidence. Can be combined with other options, if not chosen then they will be held in the brig.)

>Sweep the ship from bow to stern. (+5 days to your schedule)

>>5941232
It's best that the crew still see us as the pretty faced airheaded girl instead of a ruthless captain.

>>5940288
>Spaced them all after you're done. No loose ends. (DC 60 to destroy the evidence. Can be combined with other options, if not chosen then they will be held in the brig.)

>Check only the most suspicious sections. (+3 days)

We are currently in a draw here between
>Kill them as fast as possible, no interrogation.
>Kill them, but only after you already extract all useful intel with conventional methods.
As well as
>Thoroughly check the ship
>Focus on the most suspicious sections.

I am surprised at how everyone is unanimous on killing the smugglers. But to be fair what they did 100% mutiny against us.

>>5942158
>Kill them, but only after you already extract all useful intel with conventional methods.
>Focus on the most suspicious sections.
We didn't kill them, unfortunate accidents happen all the time!

>>5942173
>>5941141
>>5941232
>Kill them, but only after you already extract all useful intel with conventional methods.
>Focus on the most suspicious sections.

>>5940826
>>5941446
>Kill them as fast as possible, no interrogation.
>>5941187
>Torture them before their eventual deaths.

>>5941232
>>5940826
>Thoroughly check the ship
>>5941141
>Focus on the most suspicious sections
>Install additional security measures

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>>5943108
“You can't be serious.” Silas is restlessly pacing back and forth across the room. “I understand this is your first time having a gun pointed at your head. But killing them? Christ, some of them could be my grandkids.” Under the blanket, your nails bite deeper into your thighs until a moist wetness staggers down your fingertips. Blood.

“I'm no kid, Silas. Don't talk to me like that. Of course I understand what I'm doing. This is either us or them. Those rats will open their mouths and chitter away as soon as we hit Liteian dirt, and before we know it, Saak hitmen will be swarming all over the ship. Or worse.” Your other set of nails is scratching your other thigh savagely, pain shooting in a constant stream up your spine. Good, you need it to focus. Else, Silas will peer at you with Chernov's eyes and speak to you in Chernov's voice.

He opens his cupped hands and pretends to examine the squashed gnat again. A couple minutes earlier, when you first suggested arranging ‘accidents’ for the failed mutineers after Ludlow milked them for all they had, Silas had immediately shushed you before crushing the thing under his magboots. Since then, every time he felt he could not convince you with his bountiful charisma alone, he would let the thing speak for him.

“The little show earlier was the equivalent of kicking a nest full of rats. Look how reckless the survivors have gotten, placing this blackasnight sonofawhore in a whitewashed surgery room. We need to de-escalate the situation. Otherwise, the next batch of rebels won't be as talkative.” For some inane reasons, you imagine Silas saying all that in his slum accent and have to fight down the laughter welling up your throat as a result.

“And how exactly is raiding every smuggler's stowaway on the ship ‘de-escalation?’ Only God knows why my father felt it necessary to build so many.” You gesture at the schematic rainbow-scarred by generations of markers, currently stretched out across a stubby instrument table. “When burning down a rat's nest, you're bound to get a few bites. No point in shying away and allowing them to continue roosting under the floorboards."

Silas is squeezing the poor bug like a stress ball. At this rate, there won't be anything left for Moynihan to dissect. "Look, I know you want to protect me Silas. But you can't shelter me from life. Not when life is shelling your little box with the heaviest artillery she can spare.” His pace slows to a halt. Canyons and ridges forms across his tawny face in anticipation of the sigh of the century.

“I wish I can tell you that I cannot do it, my conscience will not let me. I will be lying to both of us.” It finally comes, releasing a chestful of foreseen relief and regret. Now only ruthless resolve remains in his eyes. “Don't tell anyone about the conversation we've just had. That goes double for Johnson. No one wants to serve under a psycho.” This can't be his first time.

>>5943122
"Now, there are far more, creative, ways to get rid of a spacer than simply dumping him out of an airlock. Maybe you will be interested in some of them."
>Re-assign them to a damage control team. Mid-combat EVA repairs tend to shorten one's lifespan considerably. (least suspicious but least reliable)
>Poison the brig's water supply. Would be mighty fitting to have them die the same way they lived. (moderately suspicious, moderately reliable)
>Unceremoniously space them. The less complicated the plan, the less chance for hiccups. (very suspicious, very reliable)
>Make a spectacle out of their public execution. The men need to understand the consequences of mutiny. (obliterates suspicion, +/- crew morale)


>Inform Fleet about the situation beforehand. You will still have to face an investigation afterwards, but it is mostly a formality (lower risk for this murder, but greater chance of complications for the malicitite dumping.)
>Keep everything as quiet as possible.

>>5943123
>Poison the brig's water supply. Would be mighty fitting to have them die the same way they lived. (moderately suspicious, moderately reliable)
>Keep everything as quiet as possible.

>>5943123
>Re-assign them to a damage control team. Mid-combat EVA repairs tend to shorten one's lifespan considerably. (least suspicious but least reliable)
>Keep everything as quiet as possible.

>>5943123
>>Poison the brig's water supply. Would be mighty fitting to have them die the same way they lived. (moderately suspicious, moderately reliable)
>Keep everything as quiet as possible.

>>5943123
>>Poison the brig's water supply. Would be mighty fitting to have them die the same way they lived. (moderately suspicious, moderately reliable)

>>Keep everything as quiet as possible.

>>5943123
>Unceremoniously space them. The less complicated the plan, the less chance for hiccups. (very suspicious, very reliable)
>Keep everything as quiet as possible.

>>5943244
>>5943581
>>5943882
>Poisoned water
>>5943324
>Penal squad
>>5944325
>Permafrost body

>>5943244
>>5943324
>>5943581
>>5943882
>>5944325
>Hush it up

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>>5944741
“Poisoned water.” You can already imagine the whole thing playing out. “Filtration system failed, prisoners accidentally drank their own piss. Guards untrained, didn't recognise the symptoms in time. Tsu blew his lid at me, demanding an investigation. A glitch in the mainframe, unfortunate, but nobody's fault.”

You pour yourself a glass from the pitcher and hold it up under the light. “No. Would be smarter if it is somebody's fault.” Silas attentively raises his brows. The water is clear, save for a few specks of dust. “A rival. Or perhaps a former friend grown anxious. In any case, you, the lead investigator, finally arrived at a dead end.” You take but a small sip and let the tongue spread its cool wetness around.

“Going beyond your due diligence to these mutineers, you ordered a surgical check-up of the ship's most suspicious sections. Matters not one lick if anything was found. Both you and I are now beyond suspicion.” You smack your wetted lips a few times to paper down the cracks. “Shame really. They were rotten men, and still it would be a rotten way to die.”

Silas scratches his chin, “So we will have to delay the search until Ludlow is through with them." You nod, “Yes, but this way both steps can feed into one another. The murder calls for the search, and the search covers up the murder. There is another benefit.” How wonderful the fog cleaving the surface of cool glass is.

“In order to avoid certain... complications, I will decide against contacting Fleet. Investigative secrecy and so on. They will know, eventually, but by then we should have a slugproof story prepared.”

Silas silently contemplates your plan for some time. He half-mutters, “How do you know her so well, Ray?” Who is Ray?

“Oh, nothing. You just reminded me of something someone told me a long time ago.” You narrow your eyes. Is there anything important he's not telling you?

“Don't worry. When you have served for a long time like I did, sometimes a situation just calls up an image, or a line. Just pops out from a corner of your mind. Nothing new anymore and all that.”

You return the glass to the table, “If there's anything that tickles your instinct, you should say it now. Since you're carrying it out.” He hastily shakes his head. “No, no problem at all. Sounds like a fine plan to me.”

“Hmm, that was surprising. I thought you would find something.” He tries a disarming smile, but that only made you more anxious. “Best of luck then, Silas.”

Silas salutes casually before leaving, “I will leave you to rest then, Commander.” Here's how you do a disarming smile. “What happened to Vee? I like her.” A mischievous grin, “Commander Vee.”

>>5944744
What are you going to call Silas in return?
>Italian yes Si
>Young woman Lass
>Hindic yogurt drink Lassi
>Half cycle Cye
>Just Silas is fine, thank you.
>Write-in

What should you do while ‘resting’ for the next couple days?
>Practice close-quarters fighting in VR simulation. (add a +2 bonus to CQC rolls)
>Reflect on your attempts at manipulation the past few days. (add a +1 bonus to charisma)
>Study Directorate combat doctrine in preparation for Molosses. (improve your knowledge of combat tactics)
>Spend your time with someone. (choose a person)
>Rest and relax for the rest of the week. (add a temporary +1 bonus to all rolls for the rest of the sortie)
>Write-in

>>5944745
>Half cycle Cye
>Study Directorate combat doctrine in preparation for Molosses. (improve your knowledge of combat tactics)

You forgot your name btw

>>5944745
>Italian yes
>Spend your time with someone. (Tim)

>>5944745
>Si
>Reflect on your attempts at manipulation the past few days. (add a +1 bonus to charisma)

>>5944745
>Young woman Lass
>Spend your time with someone. (Tim)

Sorry guys, I'm so exhausted from work today that I couldn't focus on writing at all. I'll try to get the update in tomorrow once I get myself some quality sleep.

>>5946413
Don't worry QM. No rush.

I meant to say this earlier but forgot. I will be going on a business trip this week. From now until then I could squeeze in another update but once I'm gone I may not be able to write for a few days.
>>5945023
>>5945581
>Italian yes

>>5944773
>Half cycle

>>5945908
>Young woman

I looked up a dictionary of names and found out that Sylvia and Silas shared a common root, silva, meaning woods. Pretty interesting coincidence.

>>5945023
>>5945908
>Spend your time with Tim

>>5944773
>Study combat tactics

>>5945581
>Reflect on your social performances

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>>5948140
You call out to the disappearing figure, “Good luck, Si.” Silas stops for a most fleeting second, still ample time to let you imagine the broadening smile behind the door. After he has gently nudged the doorknob close, you set the pillow back to its proper place and take one last sip of water. Just as quickly as your head falls onto its fluffy embrace, your mind slips into peaceful, dreamless sleep.

Following his advice, you avoid going anywhere near Silas, Ludlow, the brig, or the water pump for the next few days. Your chief of security proves himself more competent than you first thought, wrangling out a few more names and the location of several weapon caches on the ship. All the more convenient for Silas.

Three days after you returned to your bedroom, your morning routine is interrupted by loud bangs on the door. You open the door already half-expecting what awaits you on the other side, but Tsu still manages to surprise. The question came in a perfectly even tone, “Did you hear what happened?”

It is fortunate that he came at precisely this moment, spare you the effort of acting irritated. You lean your headful of dripping wet hair to the side in real annoyance. “What can be so important, Doctor Tsu?” Not fazed in the least, the intruder replied, “Take a towel for your hair and follow me. I will explain everything later.”

He led you into a well-lit room next to the medbay. On a row of tables several bodies are stretched out, all of them covered except one. He heads straight for the unlucky bastard. Short Dick. “They are dead. No, murdered. Healthy young men don't just suddenly get acute kidney failure.”

He points at white dots on Dick's skin, “You see that? That's urea, secreted through the skin because there's nowhere else for it to go. I have also detected traces of concentrated urine in the victim's gastrointestinal tract. In other words, they must have drunk piss somehow. Or more likely it was mixed in with their food.”

Give him a cool glance, “Hold on, what with the talk of ‘murder’ and ‘victim’? Who knows, maybe this is just a coincidence? Or suicide?” Tsu shakes his head, eyes still fixed on the carcass. You notice that his knuckles has gone white from gripping the table. “I am not making any accusations here.” Detecting a faint crack in his own voice, he takes several deep breaths, “But I am formally requesting that you open an investigation. I will put down urea poisoning as their cause of death, so you have no choice about it anyway.”

You nod with graven face, “No need to blackmail me like that, Doc, I understand the severity of the situation just fine. Since this happened on Ludlow's watch, I will have someone outside of security look into it. Forward the autopsy report to Silas ASAP.” Tsu seems visibly relieved, “Forgive my rudeness, Commander. I just thought that, never mind. And thank you.” You turn around and leave the room without waiting for his salute.

>>5948145
Armed with freshly printed warrants, not even the recalcitrant Goldsmith dared complain about Silas' order to immediately halt all repairs work. The raids were swift and surgical, Silas marching backward from the bow, Tim charging forward from the stern, the rat's nest crushed in the middle.

Unfortunately, the rats were one step ahead. Only smashed processors, burnt logs, broken weapons remained of former hideouts, no useful information. Even so, circumstantial evidence from CCTV and eye-witness was enough to lock up a baker's dozen of suspects.

Once everything goes back to normal, you decide to go pay Tim a visit in his room, tucked uncomfortably close to the forward magazine. Sucks to be him, but that is the only place that is close enough to a command center while still far enough from your and Silas' bunks. You press the electric doorbell and wait. “Please, come in.”

The room is small but well-utilised. Two paintings adorn the wall, one of an old-fashioned lady holding an umbrella and another of a crowd lounging by the river bank. Tim swivels his office chair, “Oh, it's you. Tell me, why has the dragon deigned to enter the shrimp's den?” You answer in nasal Venusian, “Shouldn't you be lowering beds down from ceiling? Or do you not see me as a friend?”

He laughs heartily, “So you know the old stories as well. I'm surprised.” You shrug off the praise like water over a duck's head, “My old Venusian teacher loved those tales and would cram them into the class wherever he could. I just happened to remember one that fits the occasion.” Actually, much of last night was spent skimming through a digest on Han classical culture. You still do not understand why anyone, much less Tim, would take an interest in this obscure topic.

“Not bad, not bad. However, that treatment was reserved for his best friend, not just any passing acquaintance.” He relinquishes his seat to you. “Take this instead, I will sit on the bed.”

"I assume from the tone that you're not here on any particular business. So, what do you have in mind?" You have prepared a list of hobbies someone like Tim might have, but nothing's certain.
>Watch an indie movie. You don't know why this made it into your ship's mainframe, but the reviews sound good.
>Discuss combat tactics. Maybe you can get him to reveal a bit more of his story.
>Play a game of dice. Gambling, done in moderation, is great fun. Besides, you're born lucky. (roll 3d100)
>"I don't know. What would you suggest?"
>Write-in

"Forgive me if I sound like a gatekeeper testing your cultural capital, but I'm genuinely just curious. Can you tell me what you think about the two paintings?
>"Well, they look French, and old, and pretty, I guess?"
>"They're kitschy. I'm more of an avant-garde hypo-abstract anti-Real meta-Lacanist semi-enjoyer myself."
>Write-in (try to guess the paintings' names!)

This should be attached to last post but it hit the word limit

Rolls from >>5940288:
Interrogation and assassination: 93 vs. 60, 60. Major Success!
Searching the ship: 88 vs. 80. Minor Success

I just realised that I usually ask for rolls several posts in advance of actually writing out the results. So for this one I have moved the DC checks down to the point where they actually apply. Do you prefer this more, or should I just tally them up immediately like usual?

>>5948146
>"I don't know. What would you suggest?"
>"Well, they look French, and old, and pretty, I guess?

>>5948149
Whatever works for you. I don't have a strong preference.

>>5948146
>Watch an indie movie. You don't know why this made it into your ship's mainframe, but the reviews sound good.
>Write-in
I prefer REAL art (figure paintings of naked men and women)

>>5948140
Stay safe

>>5948146
>"I don't know. What would you suggest?"
>"Well, they look French, and old, and pretty, I guess?

>>5948149
I prefer it more.

>>5948140
Beware the thread end curse

>>5948146
>Discuss combat tactics. Maybe you can get him to reveal a bit more of his story.
>"Well, they look French, and old, and pretty, I guess?"

>>5949061
>>5949381
Fuck, I actually didn't realise we are already on page 9. Everything will be okay, ri-

>>5948252
>>5949061
>Open for suggestions

>>5948439
>Movie night

>>5949381
>Shop talk

>>5948252
>>5949061
>>5949381
>Most educated Loonie

>>5948439
>Based art voyeuse

>>5948252
>>5949061
I will try out the new order for the next thread then and see how it goes.

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>>5949820
You guessed correctly once. It's unlikely you can make it twice. Still, you should pretend to rub your chin in thought, “Hmm, I had a few ideas before coming. But now that I'm here? I don't know. What would you suggest?”

Awkward silence ensues. Like a lost fly, your eyes wander about the room before finally settling on the picture frames. “Uh, about the paintings...” Seeing your valiant attempt to change the subject, Tim follows gingerly, “Oh, the paintings.” His eyes narrow in mischievousness, “Forgive me if I sound like a gatekeeper testing your cultural capital, but I'm genuinely just curious. Can you tell me what you think about them?”

Cultural capital? What did he mean by that? “Well they look old, and pretty, and maybe French, I guess? No, definitely French, only they dressed themselves like that in this day and age.” Remembering Jean-Pierre's wrist-long sleeves from your first meeting, you unconsciously blush. “Maybe everyone has reasons to cover himself so.” You hastily add, half to yourself.

“I think I know who you are referring to.” Huh? “Commander de Tassigny, right?” He clears his throat. “Well there are plenty rumours about that. It may be best to ask him yourself. No, that's not the best. The best that we can hope is to never meet him again.” And looks into the distance.

“How come? He's a good man. Maybe that spook is skewing your perception?” Smile stretching from ear to ear, Tim slowly shakes his head. “I hold nothing against the man himself. Indeed, anyone else with his abilities should be halfway to admiral by now. Yet de Tassigny is not. Do you want to know why?” He does not even wait for your answer.

“Bad luck, bad friends,” he reflexively lowers his voice, “bad habits. Whatever the reason, Death and Debris trailed him like two loyal dogs their hunter. As far as I know, his service record is spotless, yet somehow I have the feeling that the Directorate almost never came off-” Tim bites his own tongue, suddenly self-conscious of his gossiping. “Bad manners to speak ill of a fellow officer. But in my capacity as your subordinate, the warning stands.”

You know better than to try prying Tim's mouth for more juicy intel. Even so, that he unconsciously lowered his guard like so is an encouraging sign. You smile sheepishly, “Now that my little distraction bought you some precious time, have you come up with any bright idea for this evening yet?” He returns your smile while rummaging through a drawer, “Yes, actually. How would you like some go?”

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>>5949824
Only a few minutes later, you two are sitting on the floor, two pairs of legs separated by the open chess board. “Sorry for the lack of space. Only this little pantry meets regulations.”

You lean forward and snap a black pebble onto the grid, “It's fine. They usually play the game sitting like this anyway, right?” He mirrors your play. “That's a very broad ‘they.’” Another black pebble slides into place. “Anyway, what variant are we playing?"

What could you possibly change? “You know what they say: game is perfect when there is nothing more to take away. I know but three rules.” You move in for the first capture. “First rule: Surrounded stones are removed from the board, unless they have some breathing room.” Three pieces down, hundreds more to go.

You scrutinise Tim's latest placement. He looks up at you, “Many variants have only two. The second is that you cannot repeat the same board state. Although that way of playing has fallen out of favour.”

Ah, you see now, he is trying to lock down an entire sector. Not on this tactician's watch. “Only two rules? But what about the Lamian?” You fish out a red stone from the pile to demonstrate. The moment it touches the surface, as expected, a wave of crimson radiates outward, sweeping over every connected stone. Once the holographic projection subsides, half the board's stones are now blood-dyed.

“Now that's satisfying. The animation, I mean, not what it represents. I never quite understand how our ancestors survived such horrors.” You lift the red piece off, reverting the board state. An old song hums itself over the air exchanger, “Stricken by infection, one Lamian brings forth the Scourge tidal. What man can fight the bonds of blood, the chamber bridal?”

The melody in your mind was halted by a jarring clack, “Sometimes I wonder if that was the most ingenious propaganda campaign humanity ever made.” You do not appreciate the interruption to the vigil, “It can't be propaganda if it is right. Mother, daughter, wife, the faces of the Scourge are many...”

“Softest hue, slightest hint, for them ever stay wary. I was taught the nursery rhyme.” He locks his eyes onto yours,

“And I was taught to question it, the same way I should question everything else.”
>"Easy to say that when you were raised here, a world removed. I was born just above Ashen Earth, Ground Zero."
>Point two fingers at your own head. "At least promise me that you will have the strength to do it."
>Sigh longingly. “Sometimes I don't know whether that sort of thinking's a boon or a curse.”
>"You know what? I think you have a point. It's easier to scare people than to persuade them rationally."
>Keep on playing as normal. Let silence hums.
>Something far off is whispering in your ear. (Write-in)

>>5949827
>Sigh longingly. “Sometimes I don't know whether that sort of thinking's a boon or a curse.”

>>5949827
>>Point two fingers at your own head. "At least promise me that you will have the strength to do it."

>>5949827
>Sigh longingly. “Sometimes I don't know whether that sort of thinking's a boon or a curse.”

>>5949827
>"Easy to say that when you were raised here, a world removed. I was born just above Ashen Earth, Ground Zero."

>>5950300
>>5950661
>Sigh longingly. “Sometimes I don't know whether that sort of thinking's a boon or a curse.”

>>5950611
>>Point two fingers at your own head. "At least promise me that you will have the strength to do it."

>>5951623
>"Easy to say that when you were raised here, a world removed. I was born just above Ashen Earth, Ground Zero."

Just returned home from the airport, thankfully all safe and sound. I was planning to write an update tonight but for some reason, probably jet lag, I couldn't focus at all. After I get a good sleep I will make a new thread and continue Vee's adventure.

New thread
>>5954514