>>5995153
Ship: Heavy cruiser LDS Vanilla Skyline, Courageous-class
Captain: Commander Sylvia Thorton (yourself)
Crew: mostly undisciplined, enthusiastic
Engine: 95% efficiency (damaged nacelles, undergoing partial repairs, ETA 2 days)
Railgun Turret A-1: 92% efficiency (broken shell elevator, undergoing partial repairs, ETA 1 day)
All other systems operating at 100% efficiency. (undergoing partial maintenance, ETA 2 days)
Current Position: Hys base ‘Granite-Vigil’, Citar Quadrant outskirts

Ship: Patrol destroyer LDS Chocolate Rain, Jaguar-class
Captain: Lieutenant Commander Maxine Hopkins (Directorate Navy)
Heavily damaged in Stiefenholm battle, currently under repairs (ETA 56 days)
Current position: O'Kukui Fort (on lease to Directorate Navy, 11 months left)

Financial Report
Fabfeed/Scraps: 158 units
Balance: 236,600 Directorate credits
Recent transactions:
Laying-low funds for Salzar's parents: -1,400 credits
Silas' modernisation plans for the Vanilla skyline: -272,000 credits (12,000 credits over budget)
Bounty collected, 2 Ter-clan military light cruisers: 20,000 credits

Traits
Genetically pure: +5 bonus to charisma
Former freelance journalist: +2 bonus to charisma, bonus to Political Economy
Hys ‘hospitality’: -1 bonus to physical, basic command of Mir language

Personal abilities
Format: current status, growth rate (bonus to rolls)
Logistics: Basic, capable (+0)
Human Resources: Average, capable (+3)
Political Economy: Basic, gifted (+0)
Combat Tactics: Greenhorn, average (+2)

>>5995155
Current tasks
Directorate Navy Bounty on all Qyngur vessels (50% for civilian, 80% for militarised auxiliary):
>1,000 for all sub-frigates
>2,000 for frigates
>5,000 for destroyers
>10,000 for light cruisers
>20,000 for heavy cruisers
>100,000 for capital ships (triple for clan flagships) (don't even think about it)
Yamir-Hysret
>Sabotage intersystem communications infrastructure (Easy, 50 scraps. You will do this automatically as you move through the sector.)
>Scout the military build up around Melasthemae. (Easy, 50 scraps. May be useful for base bounty later.)
>Destroy a convoy carrying military goods. (Medium, 75 scraps + 25 scraps for each destroyed freighter.)

War Report
Current Liteian Navy readiness status: red
Domestic news:
Battle over the skies of Stiefenholm! Two cruisers disabled, four damaged so far on our side.
>'Major' Saret incursion repulsed at Nge-tae, reports Shanghaian military attache.
>Limited conscription rejected by New Canton Diet, “No more of our young men shall die for Lighton ambitions.”
>Additional aid package from Saudite prince earmarked for prompt delivery.
International news:
>Mounting tensions between Shanghaian and Tsinhdaonese following recent unrest in Hiep-hoa, Central Government issues official warning.
>'Calming hungry spirits': New vigil-temples to be constructed in orbit of Precious Fragrance.
>25 years after Mercurial Alexandria, European Council greenlights repatriation of last remaining Japanese POWs in historic settlement.

>>5995157
Tim vexedly glares at you, water dripping down his moustache, “I told you. Read the report first, then drink. Thankfully it was only water.” He wipes down his face with a handkerchief while you write out Sorry in big bold letters on your tablet.

You glance at his tablet again in disbelief. What has gotten into the Third Fleet's staff, choosing this very moment to stoke the fires of war? The new ships have just arrived, no way their crew and officers have been properly trained and integrated into the larger command structure yet. Not to mention the unfavourable public climate. Your suspicions that the Kanton Orbital scandal was a setup must be true, seeing how unruly their Diet is getting.

Tim leans in to show you the palm of his hand: XO standing down for now, but keep guns ready until yr return. He claps his hands to shake loose the chalk before writing something else: If order come, will have to abort sortie. You nod, your teeth unconsciously grinding in frustration. Your commission contract normally gives you near-absolute freedom of discretion, but as Jean-Pierre's ‘friend’ has shown, national security is one hell of an excuse.

If only you have stuck to Silas' timeline, you would be far behind enemy lines by now. Then, High Command would deem your ship more useful where it currently is and allow you to go on as usual. Hell, they might even increase your bounty as extra incentive to tie down Ter reinforcements. It might not be too late yet...

>>5995160
What's that thing on yr neck? You may have panicked for a second there, thankfully Tim didn't seem to catch it. A souvenir from Yamir, translator for Shanghaian. You demonstrate the device to him, plucking your throat as softly as possible. “Xin cao?” Robotic, coarse, like chanting prayers. Not Shanghaian, not really.

“Just what I expect from something so small. What hole did he dig it out of? Self-contained translators died out centuries ago, especially for common languages like Common English and Popular Saigonnese.” How many tongues does your second officer speak? “Don't give me that look. Languages in that family are close enough to one another. Surprising, seeing how their speakers want nothing more than to rip one another's guts out.”

Before Tim can ask you to speak normally, you are already astride the doorway, beckoning him to follow. You deliberately fall back, allowing Yamir's soldiers to take the lead. Tim briefly sizes up the looming guard behind him before giving up any further thoughts of fighting. Pahan-Hysin is waiting for you in front of the airlock.

He excitedly shows off his new set of razor-sharp claws, “Sivi-Totonret, greetings and great gratitude. Yamir permission gives. As apprentice under you serve." He presses his body low, "Keeper, me command agree?” That last sentence is a ringing match to Kosyt's chants during the ceremony. There certainly is much ceremonial significance to your decision here.
>"Brave warrior, rise. Flesh-under-shell you protect shall." Lock your thumbnail with his claws. (Tim will have questions after this)
>"Welcome, I guess. Come on, don't be shy." Usher him into the airlock.
>Whisper to Tim, “If he doesn't fit in a cryopod, make it so.” (angers Yamir if he finds out.)
>"Brave warrior, where worm is? To me bring. Air-under-shell you protect shall." Lock your thumbnail with his claw. (Pahan's tramp corvette will join your company)
>Write-in

>>5995162
>>"Welcome, I guess. Come on, don't be shy." Usher him into the airlock.
Welcome back QM

Almost forgot but 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. Also I appreciate including your reasoning for choosing your option, just a sentence or two will do.
>When changing your votes, link both your original post and my own to help me keep track of things
I will post updates every other day around 11pm JST (I got tired of tracking time and dates, should be 10am EST), if I don't post it at that time for whatever reason I will get the post in around 11am the next day instead.

>>5995162
>"Welcome, I guess. Come on, don't be shy." Usher him into the airlock.

>>5995803
Glad you haven't gotten cursed this time

>>5995162
>"Welcome, I guess. Come on, don't be shy." Usher him into the airlock.

>>5995406
>>5995812
Thank you for the support, but if last thread is any indication I think the curse is just slacking off by the roadside somewhere. But don't worry, I always wear a hardhat and kevlar vest whenever I go out now in anticipation.

>>5995162
>"Welcome, I guess. Come on, don't be shy." Usher him into the airlock.

>>5995406
>>5995812
>>5996001
>>5996795
>Act normal

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>>5997106
Seizing on a particularly violent jolt on the shuttle ride back, you swiftly lock your thumbnail with Pahan's massive claws. The young warrior slightly bends his thorax in recognition. Tim has given up trying to keep balance on his two feet and is now squatting in a corner. “I would have taken our own shuttle instead, but Silas already loaded it full of breaching charges, I mean, mining equipment." Switching to Shanghaian, he raises a fist at the imaginary camera. “At least put in a few chairs or something, you hear me?”

The whole flimsy vessel shudders one last time as it lands in Sculpting Bay 06. “Hey, where ya goin buddy?” Pahan slowly skitters backwards, making sure to place himself between you and the overvolted rivet-gun emplacement. “Easy, easy, Frank. He's coming with us.” Taking advantage of your momentary lapse of concentration, Tsu and a couple orderlies ambushed the party with a sterilising shower. Still wheezing from the talc powder, your eyes are nearly blinded by a flash from his instruments, “What do you mean they're...”

Only slightly fazed by your dagger stare, he continues the battery of tests, “he's coming with us? Can we even fulfill his needs? All the differences in biology...” Suddenly, the handheld bio-assessor angrily barks at your chest, “Warning! Xenocontamination critical! Xenocontamination critical!” After nonchalantly turning a few knobs and dials to make it shut up, Tsu raises an eyebrow at you, “May I?” Well, there goes any hope of hiding your condition.

It takes several attempts before your shaking finger manages to undo the top buttons. Thankfully, everyone else is purposely looking away out of decency. Your heart flinches and skips a beat at a touch from Tsu's calloused finger, “Does it hurt?” No, not really. “No matter, I cannot let you roam the ship in this state, not with those vitals. I'm ordering a blood test, nose swab, urine test, nanolayer scan, and DNA analysis right this instant.”

Before he can drag you off to medbay, the overzealous doctor was derailed by an insistent cough.“Dr. Tsu, why don't you go check up on the others for now? Let her rest.” Silas emerges from behind a corner. Your lips part, but his name chokes and dies even before reaching the leaden tongue. Damn it, why must all this happen?

“Stunned by my mug, eh? Don't worry, happens to every girl I meet.” You smile painfully at his terrible joke. Barely outside the corner of your eyes, the orderlies are pinning down Pahan for Tsu's checks. “If you don't want to tell me what happened, no use asking. Head back to your room for now and take a shower or something.” You sniff your cuffs out of instinct. Oh God, why didn't you notice it before?

>>5997118
Silas is signing off a report as you come in. “Make sure everything is ready. We'll leave at 0600 sharp tomorrow.” The engi raises his hand in salute but Silas waves him off, “No need. Just go.”

Silas spins around in his chair, gesturing at the deserted operation centre, “If you're looking for someone, the bridge is that way. Except for Moynihan, I give his section today off. Better luck popping into the mess that case.” You move a chair opposite him. “No escaping, huh?” You nod with a thin smile.

“I don't know what happened with you in that awful place. And as I said, I won't ask. So how about some shop talk instead?” He dims the room's light to give the array of Ter ships on the massive monitor centre stage. The Molosses garrison, as Yamir informed you: 2 Snapdragon heavy cruisers, 2 Marlin light cruisers, rounded out by 3 destroyer squadrons made up of Sparrows, Herons, and outdated Albatrosses. Your potential allies appear as blue silhouettes, staring down the red force.

"I assume you have no interest fighting in this new Kaskandir clusterfuck." You nod enthusiastically. “In that case, we have to make it past Molosses, and fast. All the captains I pinged earlier have agreed, but we still have one last chance of altering the formation.” You can bring as many as you want, but it's better to carefully consider their abilities and handicaps. While contemplating, your hands reach out to try the digital dice simulation, tossing the 1d100 up and down three times.
>Ienaga Takehara, commanding the missile-converted light cruisers Yushi and Shishi (guaranteed pass)
“Reliable as ever, as long as you don't put them up against too many destroyers. Not much else to say really.”
>Pyotr Kholodovski, commanding the artillery armed merchant cruiser Lathe of Heaven (guaranteed pass)
“Slow as a brick, sadly can't take anywhere the same amount of punishment. His first officer is quite lucky, I've heard.”
>Ma 'Dame' Liu, commanding the patrol destroyers Razoredge and Scarface (guaranteed pass)
“After the smuggling incident, should put as many stars between that damn cunt and ourselves as possible.”
>Okwonko, commanding the carrier-converted armed merchant cruiser Invincible (DC 60+10 for late call)
“I still don't know what could compel a man to stuff so many torpedo and momentum bombers inside that tinfoil hangar, but his life not ours.”
>Thomas Loetchai Thanaret, commanding the escort light cruiser Ayutthaya (DC 70+5 for late call)
"Be careful, this newcomer's reputation precedes him. There's still a live bounty on his head from the Caodaiists for what he did during the Tayminh Emergency.
>Jean-Pierre de Tassigny, commanding the destroyer-leader light cruiser Armitage (for some reason, guaranteed pass)
“If that snake is still with him, couldn't be up to any good. Even so, under his command that ship could easily take on a destroyer squadron by itself.”

Rolled 21 (1d100)

>>5997125
>Bring all

Rolled 81 (1d100)

>>5997187
+1

I'm kinda seeing a pattern developing here, each thread would start with us ignoring Silas' warning and end with us promising not to do that anymore. We still haven't told him about what happened last time we visited the Hys station yet.
Also a large fleet congregating in front of a vital defensive point is bound to trigger Ter reaction.

>>5998134
Is he getting second thoughts about his promise?

>>5998216
On the one hand, Silas definitely appreciates how helpful you have been over the past few months. On the other hand, if you keep on ignoring his advice and put yourself as well as the ship in danger I might have to change the title to Void Raider's Clerk Quest.
It is definitely a seniority thing as well, Silas just doesn't like a landlubber messing with his well-oiled machine.

Rolled 45 (1d100)

>>5997125
>Ienaga Takehara, commanding the missile-converted light cruisers Yushi and Shishi (guaranteed pass)
>Okwonko, commanding the carrier-converted armed merchant cruiser Invincible (DC 60+10 for late call)
>Jean-Pierre de Tassigny, commanding the destroyer-leader light cruiser Armitage (for some reason, guaranteed pass)

Feeling a bit under the weather today, I won't be able to post an update.

Sorry for tying things but taking everyone is dumb

>>5999048
+1

Since we have a tie the vote will continue to run until my next update.

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>>6000379
It's like a buffet at a luxury hotel restaurant. So many options, picking out the perfect combination of dishes is near-impossible. For a country bumpkin who doesn't even know dining and fine can go together, at least. You scrawl on a connected scratchboard, giant words dominating all over the little red and blue dots. “What would you recommend?”

“Lost your voice or something?” Coyly you nod. Silas near jumps out from his seat, “That fucking in-sect! I will stomp him.” You frantically hold him down with pleading eyes. “Fine, fine. But go see Tsu after this, ok? Good, now where were we? Ah yes, fleet tactics."

Silas falls deep in thought, perhaps retracing his palm's lifeline back to bright hallways and well-aired lecture halls. “To be honest with you, I'm no expert either. Only the best cadets get chosen for Staff College...” Silas didn't say it, but Jean-Pierre already told you so long ago, when you were still a wide-eyed girl fresh off dirt for the first time. Something about almost flunking the final exam and getting tucked away in a forgotten outpost for it. God, why did you sound so old, like Mrs Plauf giggling at gossip?

“Don't worry. I still remember the fundamentals. For example,” he wipes off your chicken scratches and picks two blue icons out of the pack. “A fleet is only as fast as its slowest member. So if we include either Khodovskii or Onko, we will have to cover their lumbering ass the whole fiery mile. Or be willing to use them as bait. Wouldn't feel too bad if it's Konwo to be honest.” You would correct Silas' horrible memory of non-Western names, but who knows, maybe he deserves it.

“Another one. Lanky's law.” This time Ienaga is subbed in for Kholodovski, “No such thing as overkill when it comes to missiles and drones. A PD net can only intercept so many threats at once, anything above that number might as well be a free hit."

Silas pulls closer to the present, passing through blood-drenched days, "Same is true for gunships, but not as dramatic. The more barrels pointing at a target, the less room for manoeuvring it has, until there is no choice but to accept a hit. Sadly this limit increases exponentially with effective range. You do know how to calculate effective range, right?" Yes, it's elementary space combat.

Conceptually, the probability of hitting a ship as simple as dividing 1 by all the different ways a given line segment (the slug) starting from the same end-point (your ship) can terminate in a sphere (potential positions of the target in the near-future). Effective range is when your chances are better than a mere 5%, heaven for gamblers. The actual calculation is significantly more complex, of course, but thankfully, your gunnery officers will handle all the other nasty variables like light-lag, inertia, turret precision, presented cross-sections, et cetera, et cetera.

>>6000384
Pleased with his student's performance in the pop quiz, your first officer continues, “Next lesson, intelligence is king. I know some who would kill to get their hands on what this bug gives out so freely.” With a wave of the hand, all the red dots are scattered across a map of Molosses, “From their battle order, my guess is that they would be organised into three groups.”

The two largest dots remain together, near the edge of the star's gravity well. “Snapdragons have decent acceleration, still it's common sense to cover as many potential entry spots as possible right off the bat. Most likely, all the obsolete and lighter destroyers will make up their escort.”

Ahead and behind the heavy cruisers, two other clusters blink impatiently, “Each of the Marlin will lead its own destroyer squadrons. No mixing, Herons are slower than Sparrows. Do you know which should be placed in front?” You draw a malformed heron in the front, along with the caption, “More torpedoes. Need time to reload.” Silas nods, “Good. You're getting the hang of it.”

A few dots remain unpinned to the board, “This is the HK squadron meant to block our retreat. It would take a few hours at least for them to reinforce the Molosses garrison, however, so only a threat if we lose.”

"And now for the final lesson, choose the fleet for the goal you want to achieve. No sense banging in nails with wrenches. What is your objective?"
>Get in, get out. No point stretching out the climb when greener grass is just over the peak. (favours faster ships)
>Mission-kill the Snapdragons. You need to make sure nothing's on your tail first before you can hunt. (torpedoes are most efficient)
>Wipe out everything. Any ship still moving is another ship you have to destroy later. (larger is better)
>Knock out the fortress Siratone. A total victory will certainly make the Ter think twice about joining Kaskandir. (largest force possible)

>Finalise your fleet (continue vote from earlier)

>>6000386
>>Wipe out everything. Any ship still moving is another ship you have to destroy later. (larger is better)

>>6000386
>Mission-kill the Snapdragons. You need to make sure nothing's on your tail first before you can hunt. (torpedoes are most efficient)

>Ienaga Takehara, commanding the missile-converted light cruisers Yushi and Shishi (guaranteed pass)
>Okwonko, commanding the carrier-converted armed merchant cruiser Invincible (DC 60+10 for late call)
>Jean-Pierre de Tassigny, commanding the destroyer-leader light cruiser Armitage (for some reason, guaranteed pass)

>>6001152
Support

>>5999048
>>6000023
>>6001152
>>6001750
>Ienaga
>Okwonko
>de Tassigny

>>5997187
>>5997880
>All

>>6001152
>>6001750
>Mission-kill the CAs

>>6000442
>Destroy them all

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>>6002335
It's that dream again. You cast a furtive glance behind your back. The hooded figures have kept their pace, precisely thirty feet behind, not an inch off. Around a corner, you lean on a wall for a short rest. The rumble of steps perishes in a sudden halt, leaving your panting marooned, stranded in the soundscape. Without even consciously thinking, you clamber in and out of hatches, feeling your way forward through cobweb-infested maintenance tunnels.

What are you even trying to accomplish? This is the part where you recognise you can't escape. You speed up, they speed up. You turn, they turn. You reverse towards them, they back away. You cower in a locker, they respectfully wait just beyond your grated vision. Like restless humans, they march until their prey drops dead from exhaustion. But you're no common prey. In this world, there's no thirst, no hunger, no tiredness. Only boredom, lightly peppered with dread.

What was your personal endurance record, anyway? Not this time, that's for sure. As usual, the lead cultist slides back just a little when confronted by your gaze. “What's the matter with you?” Chernov answers, the hood of his robe just barely covering the still-smoldering temple. “What's the matter with you? I thought you are not my enemy. Why are you running away from us? From the void that embraces all?” He bares a grin, teeth charred brown by radiation.

Close your eyes. You are on Venus. The air presses heavily on your skin, despite the climate adjusters running on full blast. Sulfuric rain thumps against the roof, sending just the faintest hint of rotten egg up your nostrils. The environment is hostile, but it is alive in its own way. Indeed, the very atmosphere oppresses, pulls you down, anchors you in life. This is as far away from the void as it gets.

Another jeer from the mutineers, Dick this time. “Touching dirt again, ain't ya? Not gonna work, yer a spacer now. Ya can hunker deep underground, and still hear her call. The Mistress awaits.” The rest murmurs after his lead, “The Mistress awaits.” If only you have some malicitite on you right now, you will show these fools who the real mistress is. Unfortunately, you don't. Instead, sensing a rare moment of distraction in your pursuers, you break into a mad dash.

Tough luck, they are not as negligent as you have hoped. Your hands grope around in the darkness for a while before finding purchase. Smooth, like a gemstone. Oh God, no. Your shoulder blade itches. Rainbow light shines from behind you, revealing a wall of skulls, their eyes studded with black diamonds.

Something is stirring under the skin of your back. You fall on all fours, groaning from the splitting pain. Air flows down your throat in ragged bursts. Up out of it comes inhuman crows, as the wings tear lose of its fleshy prison. The cultists kneel wordlessly, light filtered through your figure dancing on their hoods.

>>6002340
Your hands slide up and down the sweat-slick surface of your back. Nope, nothing weird is growing. You nuzzle and squeeze your shoulder blades a couple more times, just to be sure. Everything's fine Sylvie. Calm down. Think. Remember. What happened yesterday? Below your bed, manouvring thrusters rumble softly.

Yes, you can see him now, Silas glumly examining the four ships you had chosen to pit against the Snapdragons. They are the only threats you can't simply outshoot or outrun, and for that they must be taken out. “Well, as long as the big-mouthed braggart gets to die first, I'm okay with this. Though I might miss him later. Alright then, I'll have Moynihan bounce the invitations through our home office tomorrow, before we leave. Can't have Fleet suspect we're not planning on returning.”

He looked at you sternly, “Go see Tsu, will you? Need to make sure those bugs didn't put any nasty shit in you.” Well, we're already well past that, aren't we? You smile imagining how ridiculous you must have looked snaking your way back to you room while making sure at least three ways separate you from the medbay clairvoyant.

Now sufficiently calmed down, you sit down at your desk and start filling out empty spots in your schedule. There's enough space to fit in three or four tasks, but it's probably better to do just one or two well.
>Help Pahan-Hysin settle into life on a human ship. Teach him, and yourself, some English while you're at it.
>Check in with Dr. Tsu, let him scan you like a lab rat. If anything like your case has happened before, a Kaskandir native will surely know.
>Start writing a proper journal. If you die, you don't want to stonewall your successor like your father did to you.
>Chat with Tim when he's off duty. He doesn't seem to have forgiven you for your actions yet, but you're making progress.
>Talk with Goldsmith. The regularity and intensity of these dreams all point in one uncomfortable direction, the psychic-retardant lining.
>Write-in

>>6002341
>Help Pahan-Hysin settle into life on a human ship. Teach him, and yourself, some English while you're at it.
>Check in with Dr. Tsu, let him scan you like a lab rat. If anything like your case has happened before, a Kaskandir native will surely know.
>Talk with Goldsmith. The regularity and intensity of these dreams all point in one uncomfortable direction, the psychic-retardant lining.

>>6002590
+1

>>6002341
>>Help Pahan-Hysin settle into life on a human ship. Teach him, and yourself, some English while you're at it.
>>Check in with Dr. Tsu, let him scan you like a lab rat. If anything like your case has happened before, a Kaskandir native will surely know.
>Write-in
Try to recover and relax

>>6002590
Supporting

>>6002341
>Check in with Dr. Tsu, let him scan you like a lab rat. If anything like your case has happened before, a Kaskandir native will surely know.
>Start writing a proper journal. If you die, you don't want to stonewall your successor like your father did to you.

Reminder to everyone to link to my post as well as the post you're supporting, helps me keep track of the votes.
>>6002590
>>6003250
>>6004370
>Help Pahan-Hysin settle into life on a human ship. Teach him, and yourself, some English while you're at it.
>Check in with Dr. Tsu, let him scan you like a lab rat. If anything like your case has happened before, a Kaskandir native will surely know.
>Talk with Goldsmith. The regularity and intensity of these dreams all point in one uncomfortable direction, the psychic-retardant lining.

>>6003523
>>Help Pahan-Hysin settle into life on a human ship. Teach him, and yourself, some English while you're at it.
>>Check in with Dr. Tsu, let him scan you like a lab rat. If anything like your case has happened before, a Kaskandir native will surely know.
>Try to recover and relax

>>6004531
>Check in with Dr. Tsu, let him scan you like a lab rat. If anything like your case has happened before, a Kaskandir native will surely know.
>Start writing a proper journal. If you die, you don't want to stonewall your successor like your father did to you.

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>>6004552
“Extrasensory-keep-out armor... Oh, the anti-psychic lining? Yea, some of it got ripped out during the 'roid fight, never got ta replacing it." Goldsmith awkwardly scratches the back of his head, “figured we ain't gonna need the thing anyway. As long as it's not that, who cares?” At Goldsmith's emphatic that, one of his subordinates sneaks a nervous peek your way, but quickly loses heart when you return the favour.

“Referent of ‘there'? Speak straight. Long tails are dead for centuries.” Every engi within earshot, probably half the department by now, hastily draws cross-in-circles with their thumbs. Interesting, so they do know all the different names for Lamians. Goldsmith follows suit, “Shush, don't go around screaming their name like that. What if she's hearing?”

These scaredy spacers and their superstitions... You single out the lazy-eyed deckhand, “Impolite-you, Impolite-you. Copulate with its mother." First, the hell is wrong with the shipboard Shanghaian-to-English translator? Second, who coded the Shanghaian equivalent of Mir curses into your choker? "I saw comrade winking this direction earlier. Add anything, no? Comments on the long tails, possible?” Another round of cross-in-circles.

The soon-to-be janitor's body may be frozen stiff, but his mouth is still very much capable of movement. Excessive movement, even. “Mamama'amm, no no c-comments. Thank queue for as-s-s-sking.” Normally, you would press the issue, but too much's on your mind already. “Go rest then.” Released from your Gorgon gaze, his flash-thawed legs hastily beat retreat.

“So I assume ya going to Tzu after this?” You give the breeziest of nods. “Permission to tag along then. Don't know enough about psych shit to judge how well, or uh badly, everything's going.” You beckon him to follow with half-smiling eyes.

Goldsmith's stumpy legs could barely keep up with your arrogant stride. His grasping pants gnaw at your heartstrings, no, if you slow down you will never work up the courage to see Tsu again. You pass by Tim on the way, who curiously observes your determined march in utter silence.

>>6004556
While encased in the nanolayer scanner, your ears can barely make out a rise in Tsu's tone when answering Goldsmith's questions. “Understood, will tomorrow, let see, 1500 do?” Goldsmith, evidently discomforted by the dirt he's tracking into the sterile room, quickly assents and excuses himself.

The stretcher you're lying on starts moving at a blistering rate of a few inches per second. You see Tsu's frowning lips first, then the drooping curves of his chin, finally the disappointment in his eyes. “What the hell were you up to in that chicken coop?” He sticks a piece of paper full of incomprehensible numbers and graphs into your face, “Do you know what this means?” You stick your face, equally full of innocence, into his, “No. Please enlighten.”

“Sick to the bone, Commander Thornton, literally. Nothing's for sure, but I'm willing to bet my license that something has been infused into your bone marrow. Most of your vitals are dangerously off. Low core temperature, arrhythmic heart rate, abnormal urine composition, erratic brain waves. You should be deliriously bed-ridden right now.” It's impressive how many synonyms for ‘bad’ Tsu knows. Certainly makes for better conversations than Goldsmith.

He pauses for dramatic effect. “If your DNA still resembles a baseline human, that is. Most of the cells in your body have already been permanently altered, no, outright replaced by something quite different. Now, I'm not an expert in bug, eh, Qyngur physiology, but...” You silence him with a hush. “Listened quite enough, doctor. The cure is what?”

Eyes sealed shut, Tsu considers the question for a moment before shaking his head, “Stem cell therapy might work... No, NO! I can't allow that. Most likely, your new body will violently reject the transplant in a self-destructive cytokine storm. It's effectively suicide.” He strokes his thin beard, “I'm just a general practitioner, Commander. A gene specialist might know more, but equally they might not. Your case is the first, as far as I know.”

"I will put you under observation for now. Come see me twice a week. Before I put all this into record, do you have any other questions?" Wait, irreparable DNA damage might as well be an euphemism for biomutant. You can't have that on your record!
Add trait ‘Accelerated Regeneration’ - can take three physical wounds before incapacitation instead of two
>Orders Tsu to burn the results and never talk about this again. Purity is as purity says.
>Convince him to delay any substantial changes to your medical records until he has more information.
>Obey his orders. You trust his call, he's the expert here. (lose trait Genetic Purity - +5 charisma)
>Take your risks with stem cell therapy. The medbay should be well-equipped enough to keep you from dying. (flips a 1d2 coin if you choose this)
>Write-in

>>6004561
>>Convince him to delay any substantial changes to your medical records until he has more information.
We are half bug now cool cool. When do we grow a second pair of breasts?

>>6004561
>Orders Tsu to burn the results and never talk about this again. Purity is as purity says.

>>6004561
>Convince him to delay any substantial changes to your medical records until he has more information.
As long as it's not dangerous

>>6004561
>Convince him to delay any substantial changes to your medical records until he has more information.

>>6004561
>Orders Tsu to burn the results and never talk about this again. Purity is as purity says.

Sorry everyone just arrived home from an urgent meeting. Probably will just go to bed early, too exhausted to even think.

>>6004571
Hopefully the curse will spare me from seeing that day.
>>6005258
Whatever helps us sleep at night

>>6004571
>>6005258
>>6005387
>Delay
>>6004701
>>6005458
>Silence

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>>6007985
“Don't look so down, Commander. I wouldn't call the cells in your skin sample hu-, umh, hominid, but what they are, is extremely resilient. Their regenerative capabilities are near-miraculous, even.” He turns towards his computer, “Nonetheless, procedure is procedure. You know better than I the costs of rampant gene-editing, especially when done to people.”

Delicate as Tsu was in glissading over the subject, the spectre of old, hearing the sower's summon, grew heavy over the room, its bough sunken floor-deep, its branches laden with stinging fruits. You could almost reach out and crush one of them in your hand, feel the juice mingle with your blood before it stained through the picture-perfect shirt to wet the scar below. From this mixture distilled, red brilliant, unfading, an ink that never quite dried on the Titanean Covenant Governing the Use of Psycho-, Bio-, and Geno-Technology.

No, you shake your head. This time, past ghosts must play Cassandra to the living present. “Write down nothing yet. As you said, no what is certain. You want to ruin an innocent young sister because of a guess? Guess with basis, correct, still, just a guess.” Staring blankly ahead, Tsu sits motionless, saves for a twitching index finger.

Eventually, he sighs longingly at the whitewashed roof as the light drives back the rotten tree, “I know you would ask that. Trust me, I'm a sucker for slow-motion trainwrecks myself. Yet, this time, why do I feel like the train is heading straight for me?" The corners of your lips don't quite reach your eyes as the choker murmurs a soft ‘Thank you.’

“Before you leave, Commander, just one last question. How is Silas' investigation going? He haven't been in touch with me.” Heart skipping only one beat, you careless toss the answer behind like a crumbled piece of paper, "Oh, can't tell you too much. The murderer still is not caught, remember? But... Request from Goldsmith might be related.”

Turning right from the nanolayer room, you head for the recovery room you were placed in earlier after putting down Chernov's little rebellion. As expected, the room has been turned into a temporary holding cell for Pahan-Hysin. A badly bruised orderly snaps to attention to your approach, though his eyes betray doubts as to the wisdom of your decision. “The subject has been sedated, Ma'am. It, uh, he is ready for interrogation.”

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>>6007991
The room was as stark white as you remember, sans the bed. The faux-window normally playing pastoral scenes on loop has been turned off. In the middle, surprisingly not restrained, Pahan's torso presses against the floor, slowly rising and falling in lock step with his breath. You make sure to close the door and flip the switch on the privacy field first before removing the collar.

“Pahan-Hysin, fighting ready? To you, what they did?” Slowly, mournfully, like a cow chewing on his last moo, Pahan croons, “Sleep-potion me poisoned. Also, not protecting you, great shame!” Gently squatting down beside his massive frame, your hand deftly slips in between the exoskeleton's gaps to stroke the silky membrane of his abdomen. From numerous breathing-holes air is periodically sucked in and shot out, creating a sensation not too different from a spiky massage ball.

Gradually, your hand moves forward and upward, climbing the slick and thick prothorax. As you reach a particular spot just behind his head, Pahan hums in a low voice, apparently enraptured. “Sivi-totonret, something dimly hears. As softshell hears not. This the you-once-mentioned ‘behind look’?” To memory he must be referring. “Here, more easy show.”

Instinctively, just in time, your other hand snuffs out the coalescing moan. “Totonret, warm-feeling not? Humble prostration.” You let go of your mouth, “No, no, to prostrate no need. Warm-feeling me surprises.” Yes, surprised, but also nostalgic. What you felt first waking up to Mother's embrace, the strands of her hanging cradle brushing against your soft skin. Here, far from the Rock, surrounded on all sides by vengeful-hands, you can only share these memories with your brother.

No, no, wake up. What are you thinking? You are human, you have always been human. Yet, this feeling, these behind-looks, are they not part of you too? Is She not your Mother? Has She not loved you from the moment you refuse to kowtow like a pathetic outsider?
>Stand up. Leave. Immediately. You need fresh air, time to think. But the decision has already been made: never bring this up again.
>Forbid Pahan-Hysin from ever touching the back of your neck again. This simply isn't right. Did your mother not give you her breast?
>Maybe just one more time. Let Her image crystallise, something you can treasure always. You owe the Queen that much at least.
>Write-in (no, I won't write it, my internet history is weird enough as is.)

>>6007994
>>Stand up. Leave. Immediately. You need fresh air, time to think. But the decision has already been made: never bring this up again.

>>6007994
>Forbid Pahan-Hysin from ever touching the back of your neck again. This simply isn't right. Did your mother not give you her breast?

>>6007994
>Forbid Pahan-Hysin from ever touching the back of your neck again. This simply isn't right. Did your mother not give you her breast?

>>6007994
>Write-in (no, I won't write it, my internet history is weird enough as is.)
Have sex with the weird bug JK

Actual vote
>Forbid Pahan-Hysin from ever touching the back of your neck again. This simply isn't right. Did your mother not give you her breast?

>>6010039
No, please do not get distracted by the bug.
>>6008959
>>6009756
>>6010039
>Never again

>>6008282
>Time to think

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>>6010077
No, this simply isn't right. You catch the sturdy outer casing of Pahan's left arm before it can reach behind your back again. “Again never. I warm-feeling endure not.” His liquid pupils survey your facial features for a brief moment before focusing elsewhere. “Understand. Now, ready not. One day, possible ready will.”

Continuing to rub his back, you feel the jets of air get slower and weaker as the young soldier dozes off. Did he struggle to stay awake until he can meet you? You quietly turn off the lights before leaving on tiptoe.

“So how was he, Commander Thornton?” The formal address pricks a tiny hole in your heart. “Isn't over, Johnson?” Tim slowly stretches his arm, careful not to strain his muscles too much. “There is nothing to get over. You are the commanding officer, I am just a lowly department head.” Not this again.

You open the door to the neighbouring room. “Come on in, don't have entire day.” Brusquely closing the door after him, you activate the privacy field. Johnson pours himself a cup of water before motioning for you to do the same. "Men, drop the gallant act too fast. You want what?”

“Always the same, Commander. The truth. What happened on that station?" What a coincidence, you have been thinking about that as well. Just turning over the details in your mind, make sure everything fits together under scrutiny. Thank God no Liteian military tribunal can call on Yamir-Hysret as a witness, and neither can Tim.

Not that you would let it come to that. “The point is what? You don't believe what I say anyway. No one agrees with my story.” You sit on the bed, beckoning the wall separating you and Pahan. “No one you trust, anyway.”

Your second officer takes a deep breath. “In the case a commanding officer deems herself no longer fit for duty, she must hand over her duties to her executive officer.” Swallow the snigger. “Again lecture? Want to hold hand to teach too?” You grab his wrist and drag it to your cheek.

“God, Sylvie, it's so cold! You really don't feel it?” Tsu's words ring in your ear, ‘low core temperature.’ You look away, “A/C here is cold." His eyes chase after yours, “No, definitely not that. First you lose your voice, but not really, because you somehow can still speak through that horrible translator. Now this. Tell me, what's happening?"

Another deep breath. “You know, Silas is worried as well. Alongside every senior officer on this ship. With a major operation coming up...” You cut in, “Said already, don't worry. All fine. Tell Goldsmith to prepare locker next to my room for guest. Have a nice day.” You storm out before he gets any other idea.

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>>6010080
Clearly, the collar is only a temporary fix. Even Silas can't hold out forever against Tim if you don't start speaking normally again soon. You are caught in a bind here. If you don't talk, that's something to worry about. If you talk, you will just be reloading Tim's mags.

Something slaps the side of your head, “Concentrate. This important.” The teacher is tapping each vowel on the blackboard while her mouth sounds it out, “A, a, a. E, e, e.” Both you and Pahan laboriously copy what comes so naturally to everyone else. Thankfully you have already bolted two more locks onto the door. Imagine if Silas, or God forbids, Tim walks in while you are- oww, fucking hell. Does he have to be so rough?

After a few more bumps on your head, the words slowly settle on your tongue again. Technically, the Mir tongue spans a more impressive spectrum, stretching well into ultra- and infrasonic frequencies. But humans have learned to exploit their limited range with inimitable precision. You did not consider it seriously back then because your familiarity with Shanghaian is rather limited, but it must have been obvious to Tim that even Yamir-Hysret frequently mixed up his tones.

One day, as you are sitting down to read Silas' daily report, Pahan-Hys breaks into your room “Si-via Thon-ton. Do you ha-vuh time?” You patiently explain to him the necessity of knocking on the door before going in. “I see, will not do that a-gain.” He turns round and bangs on the open door with both claws. “Good now?” Well, at least he tried.

“What duh you wan-th to talk about?” No, not there yet. You still sound too much like you ride the shorter bus. “I can tal-k English speech now. Can work for you, be uzeful. Where do you thin-k is bezt?”

Why haven't you thought of it before? Your crew is clearly still afraid of this strange warrior who just a few weeks ago were still their enemy. By putting him to work, you can at least start to fix that reputation somewhat.
>Goldsmith. His department is always short-staffed, and he could clearly use Pahan's inhuman strength.
>Dornholm. Pahan used to command a courier, his experience with engines and flight computer would be appreciated.
>Ludlow. What better use for a soldier can there be? Not to mention their fiery personality can work well together.
>Johnson. His sister spent most of her life studying the Mir. Hopefully some of that curiosity and tolerance has rubbed off on him.
>You. You could really use a personal aide. Silas is too stingy to waste credits on one, he can't complain about free.
>A name just came to mind, now you just have to contort your tongue the right way... (write-in)

While thinking, you take an idle glance at the tablet. A chance to vent the malicitite is coming up, and Silas wants your authorisation
>Yes. Better to get rid of the evidence as soon as you can.
>No. Captain Liu desperately wants it. You can make use of that. (Silas strongly advises against this.)

>>6010082
>Goldsmith. His department is always short-staffed, and he could clearly use Pahan's inhuman strength.

>Yes. Better to get rid of the evidence as soon as you can.

>>6010082
>Dornholm. Pahan used to command a courier, his experience with engines and flight computer would be appreciated.
>Yes. Better to get rid of the evidence as soon as you can.

>>6010082
>Goldsmith. His department is always short-staffed, and he could clearly use Pahan's inhuman strength.
>Yes. Better to get rid of the evidence as soon as you can.

>>6010082
>You. You could really use a personal aide. Silas is too stingy to waste credits on one, he can't complain about free.
More time for weird bug sex
>Yes. Better to get rid of the evidence as soon as you can.

>>6010190
>>6011124
>Engineering

>>6010767
>Navigation

>>6011715
>Secretary with benefits


>>6010190
>>6010767
>>6011124
>>6011715
>Get rid of malicitite

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>>6012038
You quickly press your thumb against the tablet for biometric verification of the order. Silas better knows what he's doing, leaving behind a paper trail like this. Meanwhile, Pahan's question tugs at the corner of your mind. Where would he best fit in? Maybe Dornholm, though you doubt she has fully earned her men's respect. Introducing another destabilising factor into the unstable equilibrium would be too much for the girl. Maybe you...

No use trying to think while Pahan is still staring at you like this. “Come with me. I have someth-ing to show you.” You make sure to check every lock on your door twice before leading the way. “Wheir are we go-ing?” You wave down a saluting deckhand, “You will see. Youu'll see.”

Pahan briefly shelters his sensitive eyes with his massive claws. Once they have become accustomed to the brilliant light of the sunlamps, he gawked at the sprawling greenery for a long time, “Is this true? You have space for treez?” With a beaming smile, you nod, “Of course. Very important to have fu-resh food everey now and then. Good for morale.”

The warrior lowers his torso to run his fingers against a trailing pumpkin vine. Gently, he cups the wrinkly yellow flower at the stem and holds it aloft like a crown. You lean down over his head to let your nose sip the heady wine. “But why? Man cannot eat food-cakez alone?” A giggle escapes your cheek, “Can life on nutrimoss even be called life?”

He lets the blossom falls back to the black earth, “Yes, we live on food cake, exile bread, when floating. Feast is rare.” You crouch down beside the sulking young, “Sorry, I didn't know that. I thought I saw beautiful shrine-in-garden once on the station...” His antennas droop down like a steel wire, “No, green there is for the Heart only.”

You slowly back away to leave Pahan alone with his thoughts. In the meantime, the tomato vine should be in full bloom as well. Wandering in that section's direction, a familiar face almost bumps into your chest. “S-so-rry Ma'am. I ddidn't expect to see you here.” Faced with an impenetrable gate of pursed lips, he finally remembered to salute. “So-sorry again, I-i-i...” At this rate you would have freshly pound ketchup out of season.

“Calm down Sal-zar, I'm not going to eat you.” Your deliberately slow and clear tone seems to have spooked him even further. “Uh-uhm, forrreal?” Just then, a dashing cavalryman comes to the rescue, peering out from the grape vines behind you. “Can I have a word with you, capt'? And you, Salzar, just go.” Before you can turn back round, he has already disappeared behind leafy cassava stems.

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>>6012041
Silas deftly squeezes in between the supporting stakes. “Your spoiling him, Si.” A guilty smile, someone's in a good mood today. “Who cares? Come with me, I want to show you something.” Well, here comes karma for herding Pahan like you did. He leads you to a chalk-rimmed morning glory. “So we g-row decor flowers as well. I never take you for a rromantic. But tell me, why is it alone?”

He caresses the flower like a tailor his fabric. Or a pleasure-bot builder his synthetic skin. “No, not quite. This is a sweet potato flower. I've only seen it once or twice. In my whole life.” You nod along, “They sure are pretty, yeah.” He laughs full-spirited at your uncomprehending comment.

“Yes, yes, they are beautiful. And full of potential as well. It's one of the few natural ways to introduce genetic variety into the species. Granted, most of the seeds will be terrible, worse than their parents. But maybe, just maybe, one will be slightly better, and that will fetch a tidy credit on the organic market.”

He slowly lowers the flared horn back to its natural position, “Don't worry, not enough for retirement. You'll still be stuck with me for a while yet.”

Well, not literally. You definitely aren't spoiled for choices right now. It's good seeing your first officer passionate for something other than fighting, but you wonder to yourself whether you'd rather be somewhere else instead.
>Check back on Pahan. This is the first time he's alone, unguarded on your ship and you already have a bad feeling about it.
>Chase down Salzar. If that kid wants to survive the Liteian Navy, he best learns to face his fear of authority figures first.
>Make small talk with Silas. His happiness is rubbing off on you, and there's a chance for a glimpse past his coarse exterior.
>Discuss recent events with Silas. You feel obliged to smooth out any recent doubts on your ability to command. (truth or lie)
>Wander through garden alone. You have been here less often than you'd like, and you could definitely use the fresh air.
>Write-in

>>6012074
>>Make small talk with Silas. His happiness is rubbing off on you, and there's a chance for a glimpse past his coarse exterior.

>>6012074
>>Wander through garden alone. You have been here less often than you'd like, and you could definitely use the fresh air.

>>6012074
>Wander through garden alone. You have been here less often than you'd like, and you could definitely use the fresh air.
Mayhaps we'll find some inspiration or meet someone new

>>6012074
>Check back on Pahan. This is the first time he's alone, unguarded on your ship and you already have a bad feeling about it.

>>6012074
>Wander through garden alone. You have been here less often than you'd like, and you could definitely use the fresh air.

>>6012873
>>6012972
>>6013887
>Wander

>>6012728
>Chat with Silas

>>6013190
>Return to Pahan

>>6014255
“Can the flower pol-polli-breed with itself?” Silas crouches down, and you quickly follow. Interesting, where is the water's rush and roar? “No. It cannot. Which is why I'm such a lucky bastard.” His fingers part only a minimum number of leaves the minimum distance to reveal yet another funnel-like flower.

“And in case you're wondering, this is actually an aeroponic system.” You catch your tongue in time before it can ask what's the difference. No, sophomore-you made the same mistake once, asking Professor Eszter for his opinions on ‘those classic tunes.’ Never again will your ears be subjected to the Platonic ideal of informational assault. “Keep me updated on your planting project. And good luck!”

Silas is still cursing your heavy-handed pat on the back as you disappear behind the blueberry shrubs. Free from company again, you decide to roam around the hy- aeroponic bay in the shoe-worn path of that old adage about how finding is best done without actively looking. Or not.

The Lightspeed Angel crisply snaps her hand in front of her forehead, “Ma'am. I think I just heard Lieutenant Commander O'Keefe use profanities. Should we check up on him?” You snap a blueberry off its branch with an audible crack, “Damn it, still sour. Also, screw O'Keefe. Do you want to take a walk with me instead?” A question to you, a command to her. Just the way a well-oiled hierarchy should work.

Not wanting to accumulate any more bad karma for the day, you walk beside Dornholm through the green maze of blueberries, tomatoes, bell peppers, cherries, and cabbage. “There sure is no shortage of fresh produce for the mess kitchen.” She dreamily looks elsewhere, or maybe nowhere, “Oh yes, yes, Ma'am. Very good for morale, I've heard.”

Sensing her agitation as you two pass by the mushroom section, you offer to turn in and wait a while. Immediately, Dornholm produces a notebook from her breastpocket and starts scribbling. Unable to contain your curiosity, you pretend to absent-mindedly look over her back. “You see, Ma'am. These king oysters are going to be harvested later and by tonight they'll be on the menu. Before that, I want to capture the, ahem, cutest among them for posterity.”

You never paid attention to it before, but she's right. Some of these plump misshapen doorknobs are right adorable. “It's almost a shame to eat them. Almost. They still taste better than they look.” You stand up to your full height and peer down at her dreamy blue eyes. “I'm off duty right now. You can call me Sylvie.” Like finally stumbling on her soulmate in the unlikeliest of places, Dornholm shyly offers her open palm, “Hi Sylvie. I'm Angel.”

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>>6014256
Forgot to attach pic related

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>>6014257
“So, Inger, what you're saying is that people never try to weaponise this zombie fungus, not even once?” She is caressing a shelf of maitake the same uncomfortable way Silas did his precious flower. “Well, I would never get the security clearance to deny or confirm that anyway.” Why are your officers so weird?

“How's the chicken sitting in your stomach, Sylvie?” Maybe it's something to do with everywhere else on the ship being near-antiseptic clean. “Still fine, thanks. Can I get some more?” She passes the plate of orange mushrooms to you before launching into another speech. One would think that hot women make for better lecturers, but you doubt you would do any better on a mycology pop-quiz than a horticultural one after Silas' (strictly) hypothetical information session. After all, their other, more superficial qualities can only pull so much weight.

You almost choke on the mushroom when the klaxon rings again. Tim maintains a calm tome over the PA system, “Everyone to combat position. This is not a drill. I repeat, Not a drill.” You and Inger scramble to run in opposite directions without so much as a farewell.

Silas and a confused Pahan greet you at the aeroponic gate. Before long, you three arrive at the combat information centre. Moynihan is already there, giving out constant updates to Tim and the bridge crew. “Two contacts, bearing 3-0-0, elevation 0-4-0. Distance 1 mil klicks. Over.” Three red dots blip impatiently on the holo-projector while keeping a parallel course with your cruiser. “Identity confirmed. One Marlin light-cruiser. One Sparrow destroyer. Light damage on both bogeys.”

This must be the HK squadron deployed to cut off your retreat. But what are doing so far out here, and so badly understrength? “Another contact just warped in. Distance 1.4 mil klicks. Friendly.” Your answer came in the form of a hail moments later. “This is Captain Thanaret of the Ban Rachan. Do you copy, Vanilla Skyline, over.”

You grab a headset off the commander's table, “Copy. This is Commander Thornton of the Vanilla Skyline. What's the situation, over.” After a few tense seconds, the reply finally arrives, “HK squadron tried to ambush us. And failed. Please read and follow my ins- suggestions. Over.”

Moynihan turns to you, “Ma'am, they have also enclosed a flight plan.” He tosses it onto the screen. Silas dourly comments, “So he wants us to just block off their retreat while he gets all the credit? A raw deal, but I wouldn't cross this one, capt'.”
>Follow Thanaret's instructions and keep your distance. He already won this battle, let him do the mop-up.
>Engage the light cruiser at stand-off range. You can at least contribute something to the engagement.
>Charge in. They can't be allowed to repower their warp drive and jump away again.
>Pincer Thanaret's ship. There won't be a better chance to claim the bounty on his head. (Silas is against this course of action)
>Write-in.

>>6014257
You also forgot your trip

>>6014265
>>Engage the light cruiser at stand-off range. You can at least contribute something to the engagement.

>>6014265
>Follow Thanaret's instructions and keep your distance. He already won this battle, let him do the mop-up.

>>6014265
>Follow Thanaret's instructions and keep your distance. He already won this battle, let him do the mop-up.
He knows what he's doing

>>6014265
>Engage the light cruiser at stand-off range. You can at least contribute something to the engagement.

>>6014265
>Follow Thanaret's instructions and keep your distance. He already won this battle, let him do the mop-up.

>>6014265
> Engage the light cruiser at stand-off range. You can at least contribute something to the engagement.
Let’s hope that’s enough to score us some free salvage

>>6014477
Well I guess that's just the eternal allergy to all forms of namefagging within me
>>6016283
>enough to score us some free salvage
Don't say that to his face

We're currently in a tie between
>Skirmish
>Keep out
I will post an update on evening tomorrow. Until then enjoy this short piece from our new friend.

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>>6016405
Wait, let me just wipe off my eye real quick. That's better. Some claim they could see thousand of miles away across the distance of years with a single precious tear as the lens, but not me. I always like to go about my business with a strong face. Something I take from Father, I guess.

I still remember, no, better to say I would love to imagine I remember the first day I met him. It was a sunny afternoon at the convent, when the banyan tree was casting sharp angular shadows over the younger children...

Oh, we have no time? I see. Well, let me start somewhere else. I was 14 year old, a wee young lad, studying for a, hmm, chemistry, or maybe biology, test when my playlist was interrupted by an emergency announcement. The Precious Fragrance atrocity, followed by our government's unilateral declaration of ceasefire. I didn't understand the scale of destruction then, I don't think I do even now. All I cared about is that Father was finally coming home.

Ah, only the most memorable moment? I think that was more than worth the tape it's on, no? Alright then, just cut to the chase. You're only here for Father, after all. Here goes. That day, another unforgettable afternoon, I was still rubbing the rheum from my eyes when the message came in. No, non, don't cut, this is important. Anyway, an old friend in the prosecutor office warned me that they just started procedures against Tang Tien.

So I crossed his name from the list... Only one left. My Father's. The Shanghaian must seriously want him brought before the horseshoe. No, I change my mind, edit that part out if need be. What was I thinking? I thought it sounded foreboding, poetic. visible sigh

But, no, I will resolutely not testify to the existence or non-existence of an agreement between our government and the Shanghaians to exchange war crime charges. If across the demarcation line that Caodaist, scare quote, prophetess, unquote, got snagged the same day, it is merely proof to both sides' commitments to memory and justice, the first step on the long journey towards reconciliation.

Yes, yes, of course, it is important to uphold the jus cogens regarding accountability for conduct during armed conflicts. I never said anything to the opposite effect. Can we move on, please? How about this instead? I walked out onto the porch, and a playful wind spirit whispered to me that the prosecutor's office would soon come for my Father. Good? Great.

>>6016443
I ran back into the kitchen, where Father was cooking our dinner. He pretended not to see me, the equivalent of telling me to calm down. So I brushed my hair down and stood erect before addressing him, “Luang, they are coming for you.” He put down the skillet and asked our maid, Manuela, to take over before turning to me, “You never call me Luang unless it's something important. Let us sit down somewhere before talking.”

Once we were both comfortably settled down in the living room, I waited for him to puff out that first ring of smoke before talking. Well, I related to him the general trustworthiness of wind spirits in this matter, absurd though it might sound, laughs. I suggested the possibility of moving beyond the jurisdiction of our government, preferably to a state which had not yet acceded to the Rome Statute.

My father, his countenance hidden behind the wispy veil, laughed at the end of my somewhat long-winded exhortation. He quickly assured me of his lack of intention to make fun of my heartfelt care, but simply he, quote, must laugh before he cries, unquote. “I have been thinking a lot about it. In nature, there is no law. So the strong man looks to it and tells himself, ‘I obey only the law of nature.’". By this he was without doubt referring to the principle of might makes right.

“And the irony, by saying that, he makes it true. In the best of times, he will go on to win every battle against those weaker than him. But good times don't last. Eventually, he will lose and be destroyed by the very strength he worships.” Of course, the age-old Hobbesian paradox. “As such, wise men understand the necessity of human laws and human government. A large sacrifice, yet more than worth it to soften the blows of defeat.” A perfect recapitulation of social contract theory.

“Do you see where I'm going? I have already handed my sword over to your brother for safe keeping. Tomorrow, at sunrise, I will turn myself in to the Tribunal. I hope they will treat me with dignity, even if I deserve none.” It took me some time to fully register the meaning of his words. By the time I did he has already left for fresh air outside. I decided it would be better to let him be, to enjoy his last day of freedom.

I still think about my deliberate inaction from time to time, but I can always assure myself that a war hero like him would have never enjoyed the spectacle of womanly moping. Still, a little part in me died seeing him stand statuette outside while the rest of us joined in prayer at dinner...

I think that's about it. Remember to send me the final cut before airing it. You wouldn't want to face me in court, trust me.

Please rate the narrator's faggotry on a scale of /v/ to /lit/

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>>6016449
forgot pic once again. tactable sigh

>>6016449
I'd say it's more /x/ meets /lit.

>>6016405
Reminder for anyone who hasn't voted yet to vote in >>6014265. If there are no votes then tomorrow I will roll a 1d2 to decide our choice.

>>6014265
>Engage the light cruiser at stand-off range. You can at least contribute something to the engagement.

>>6016547
Hmm, interesting... Where's the /x/ part? He was being facetious when talking about wind spirits btw. That's how he explained knowing about the prosecutor's plans for his Father Thanaret without admitting that both the Shanghaian and the Thai governments were violating international law with their agreement to prosecute only a certain number of war criminals.

>>6014477
>>6015579
>>6016283
>>6017362
>Skirmish at long range

>>6014998
>>6015204
>>6016158
>Stay out of this

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>>6017492
“Well, he never said any-thing about not shooting a few rounds.” Silas rubs his brows, “Moynihan, whats the status on the Ayutthaya?” Your sensor officer stares almost in trance at the blinking radar screen, “Sir, they're closing in for a flyby, maximum acceleration. Sparrow-1 is peeling off on torpedo vector. What's this Thanaret brewing?”

“Shanghaian purse-snatching. Their tactics must have rubbed off on him after so many battles. If we want to follow your plan, we have to ditch his instructions. Else there's too much risk of blue on blue.” With each moment the blue blip gains a little on the two red dots. You have to act fast.

“Inger, keep course steady. Elysium, you have permission to fire. Turn that Marlin into slag.” The radio emitter sweeps across Thanaret's predicted world lines, broadcasting your change of plans. One can only hope the Sparrow is not equipped with proper codebreakers.

“Torpedoes and flares detected. From both the Ayutthaya and the Sparrow. Point-blank range. Reckless, no, insane.” You catch Salzar crossing himself. Any moment now, one or both of them could burst into a ball of flame, whose light would reach you in but a handful of seconds. Underneath your feet the periodic thump of 12-inch railguns continued unabated.

Suddenly, the Sparrow's dot stops blinking. You can barely make out the mumblings of a shaken and shaking Salzar, “... can't believe it... nails that destroyer.” Moynihan, realising your disapproving glance, slaps the ensign's head with a thump, “Want to end up like Torres?” Ah, that high-strung idiot who almost foiled your first ambush. He's lucky he was only expelled from the academy, not dragged before a court-martial.

Thanaret's raspy voice breaks your chain of thought. “Thornton. You did not follow my suggestions. No matter. Have your guns corner the rat into this coordinate. I have a surprise for him. Over and out.” You shout into the intercom, “You heard him, Elysium. Give ‘em hell.” Immediately, the thumping picks up in pace. Unconstrained from having to guess the light cruiser's precise position, your gunnery officer can rev the shell loader to full throttle. Everything now depends on your new friend’s ‘surprise.’

“They're charging up some kind of energy weapon. Readings all over the place. No, it couldn't be.” Tim calls in from the bridge, “Are you seeing this? Seem to be deploying additional radiators.” The eight structural spur radiating from the ship's stern grows nearly twofold, radiator panels fanning outwards peacock-style. The Marlin captain, sensing his doom approaching, swerves ever more desperately, but the hail of depleted uranium from your battery surround him like a tidal wave crashing on the panicked surfer.

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>>6017496
The spectrograph whirs madly as the Ayutthaya releases its charge. There is no escape, the laser cuts clean through the hull lengthwise, followed by nearly a dozen secondary explosions. By the time the beam winds down, nothing is left of the elite light cruiser but a rapidly expanding rad-hot cloud of debris.

Silas falls back into his seat, “Spine-mount capital-grade laser. I have heard rumours of such radical modding, but never thought it possible outside of vanity projects. The power strain is simply too immense.” Elysium chimes in, “Sir, capital ships don't mount that kind of lasers either. No physical shell to dump at least some of the heat in.”

Moynihan shows you the rough report from the sensors, “Lastly, most lasers are useless against shield. Photons just don't have the momentum necessary to warp the electron membrane. Not this piece. Look.” He points to a peak in the graph. “Tens of thousands of atto-pulses, each measuring 2 quettawatt. To put that in perspective, each pulse briefly dumps the entire energy output of a star into a 20-inch circle. Not even Coretech would appreciate that. The poor Marlin never stood a chance.”

Silas takes out his derringer, “Same principle as this, but several orders of magnitude more powerful." Moynihan smirks at him, “I hope you still remember that your pistol can only cycle microsecond-long pulses. It might be effective on women and noguns, but your talk of femto-pulses this and that will just get you laughed out of marine barracks.” Moynihan's admonition seems to enter one ear only to exit out the next.

Salzar perks up, “Ma'am, we got another transmission, Thanaret wants to meet you. Face-to-face.” On the holo-projection a new tiny blip starts meandering on an intercept course for your ship. You drop your favourite dice set, 4 1d100 in all, onto a conveniently-placed empty fruit bowl.
>Convince Thanaret to join your attack on Molosses. You could use someone like him. (DC 85, charisma bonus applies)
>Give him a friendly reception, nothing more. He has too many enemies, some of whom could easily turn on you. (DC 70, charisma bonus applies)
>Challenge him to a wrestling match. You have read it's a tradition where's he from. (DC 90, physical bonus/malus applies)
>Fire on the shuttle and jump away. The easiest bounty you have ever collected. (DC 90, tactics bonus applies)
>(Optional) Ask Thanaret to tell you more about his ship. (DC 75, charisma bonus applies)
>Write-in (I will decide DC)

Rolled 25 (1d100)

>>6017504
>Give him a friendly reception, nothing more. He has too many enemies, some of whom could easily turn on you. (DC 70, charisma bonus applies)
>(Optional) Ask Thanaret to tell you more about his ship. (DC 75, charisma bonus applies)

Rolled 84 (1d100)

>>6017504
>Give him a friendly reception, nothing more. He has too many enemies, some of whom could easily turn on you. (DC 70, charisma bonus applies)
>(Optional) Ask Thanaret to tell you more about his ship. (DC 75, charisma bonus applies)
If we betray him now no one will ever trust us again

Rolled 43 (1d100)

>>6017504
>>Challenge him to a wrestling match. You have read it's a tradition where's he from. (DC 90, physical bonus/malus applies)
Sure why not

Rolled 11 (1d100)

>>6017504
>Challenge him to a wrestling match. You have read it's a tradition where's he from. (DC 90, physical bonus/malus applies)
What do we get if we win?

We are in a tie again between
>Exchange pleasantries
>Ask about his ship

>Wrestling match
If there are no more votes by tomorrow morning (12 hours from now) I will roll a 1d2 as a tiebreaker

>>6017504
>Give him a friendly reception, nothing more. He has too many enemies, some of whom could easily turn on you. (DC 70, charisma bonus applies)
>(Optional) Ask Thanaret to tell you more about his ship. (DC 75, charisma bonus applies)

Next update will be coming tomorrow

>>6019388
Honour, maybe

>>6017554
>>6017777
>>6019475
>Exchange pleasantries
>Ask about his ship

>>6018832
>>6019388
>Wrestling match

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>>6019924
“Pahan, return to your room. Too dang-erous.” The young warrior briefly puffs his chest in defiance but, perhaps glimpsing an old lesson, chooses to follow your wisdom without question. “And you, Silas, go fetch something good from what ever you still have in your sellar.” Finally, it's Salzar's turn, “Sal-a-zar, can you guide our guest to the bridge? I will be waiting there.” He acknowledges your order with a surprisingly clear monosyllable before bolting off.

Over an hour later, on the bridge, six eyes, yours, Tim's, and Silas', scan every inch of the airlock door, patiently waiting for any movement. The last bottle of Furriskey bog-champagne rests on a trolley, its own separate island away from sensitive electronics. Salzar annoyingly paces back and forth across the screen several times. You are tempted to tell him off with the PA system, but the shuttle has already docked with your ship and pressurisation will finish any moment now.

Finally, the steel bolts retract and pull back each quarter of the gate with them. “Quite young, isn't he? Too young even.” Tim whispers in a low voice, his anxiety yet to dissipate, “Just wait.” The slender young man in yellow camo fatigues, in clear violation of regulation, curtseys to Salzar before piping up in clear, unaccented English, “Honour to you, my friend.”

He turns towards the camera with prescient precision and motions another curtsey. “And to you, Commander. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Lieutenant Wachirawit Thanaret, executive officer of the Ban Rachan. My father, His Excellency Captain Thomas Loetchai Thanaret, Luang Klahannaisongkhram, begs your pardon for the crude test. He will be arriving shortly on another shuttle." No, the seeming lack of accent is an accent in itself, Aristian English, as spoken by the Commonwealth's leading caste.

Right on cue, Moynihan reports another contact, “Another shuttle from the Ayutthaya requesting permission to dock. Approve?” Silas grumbles his assent before turning to you, “Won't be another half hour before the old man shows up. Should bring junior here to wait.” You nod before gluing your eyes to the dozens of pixels representing the lieutenant again. If this is the son, what kind of person would the father be?

>>6019934
Tim suddenly snorts with clear disdain, “Luang, huh? So they didn't strip that pretty title from him before throwing him in jail for ‘neglecting’ to check whether those freighters he blew up were really full of refugees. Just as well, they never planned on inconveniencing him for long anyway. Truth, memory, justice: nothing more than words!” You wonder whether he also excoriates you with such vigour in private.

“You know my distaste for vigilante justice. However, what this Thanaret did was a crime against all, punishable by all. There is no shame in vacc'ing the beast. There is shame in letting him live with impunity.” Silas preemptively restrained him before he can do anything stupid. Or brave. No mere fanaticism, this is conviction, polished until it shines.

"Get your hands off me, Silas. I can control myself just fine. I never ordered Elysium to fire on the Ban Rachan just because it harbours one monster, did I?" Tim looks at you, eyes like steel under the moonlight, “Please, just this once. I chose cowardice before because I fancied myself the more pragmatic sibling. But if I look away now, I must look away for the rest of my life. I simply cannot bear to live like that.”

He pushes his wrists before you, waiting to be cuffed. “Here, arrest me for insubordination. I will take all the blame. Don't let him get away.” Thankfully he has kept his voice low, everyone else in bridge is curious but none the wiser. Under the hubbub of routine procedures you can barely make out the incoming footfalls of Wachirawit. It's now or never.
>Ask Silas to temporarily place Tim in the brig. You don't care for moral posturing, this is business.
>Have Tim take Junior on a tour of the ship. Hopefully this will take his mind away from vengeance.
>Keep Tim by your side as you welcome Thanaret senior. Easy to paint monsters until you have seen the man. (modified DC: 70 + 5 = 75)
>Follow Tim's advice. You have accidentally foiled Thanaret's plan. The shark is now just another fish in the barrel. (modified DC: 90 - 40 = 50)
>Write-in.

>>6019938
>Ask Silas to temporarily place Tim in the brig. You don't care for moral posturing, this is business

>>6019938
>Write in: Convince Tim to to back down. Remind him of the difference between vengeance and justice.
> Have Tim take Junior on a tour of the ship. Hopefully this will take his mind away from vengeance.
Even if we manage to talk him down, would probably be best to keep them separate.

>>6019938
>Have Tim take Junior on a tour of the ship. Hopefully this will take his mind away from vengeance.

>>6019938
>>Write in: Convince Tim to to back down. Remind him of the difference between vengeance and justice.
>> Have Tim take Junior on a tour of the ship. Hopefully this will take his mind away from vengeance.

Gotta take my wife to the doctor earlier. Everything's (mostly) fine now but I won't be able to post today.

>>6021108
Hope everything will be okay QM

The curse is real

Oh no

Sorry everyone for the sudden disappearance. I was discharged from the hospital earlier this evening after an idiot cyclist rammed into me at full speed while I was running errands for my wife. I got badly bruised but thankfully no bone was broken. Just when I thought the curse was finally over, too.

>>6023640
It's never over. Just waiting until you let your guard down.

>>6020259
That line of reasoning would definitely work on Tim, so I'm gonna give this an automatic success.

>>6020259
>>6020970
>Write in: Convince Tim to to back down.
>Have Tim take Junior on a tour of the ship.

>>6020141
>Ask Silas to temporarily place Tim in the brig.

>>6020378
>Have Tim take Junior on a tour of the ship.

Rolls:
Friendly reception: 84 v. 70 - 7 = 63 - Major Success
Origin story: 43 vs. 75 - 7 = 68 - Failure

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>>6024707
“Enough of this.” You push both men aside. “Johnson, have you already forgotten what you yourself told me about not showing weakness in front of the crew?” Your eyes rove around the room, looking for any sign of untimely curiosity. None dare meet your glance.

“I'm not a child. I don't need all that bullshit. If you want me to kill Thanaret in revenge for a friend of yours, just say so.” You can tell Johnson is struggling to keep his voice low. “No, that's not what I meant. He's a monster, don't you understand?”

“I fail to see how that is related to your request, Lieutenant Commander.” His hands repeatedly clenched and opened in exasperation. Surprisingly, he hasn't started breathing in and out yet. “So you think this is personal? I don't need to lose someone dear to me in order to want justice.”

“Vengeance, what you are asking of me is vengeance. There is a difference.” Tim is struck silent, tongue-tied. “As you said, he has already met justice. Any pretension otherwise is the talk of tyrants and backstabbers.”

His face remains blank as you greet the younger Thanaret. He obsequiously kisses your hand before rising, a full head shorter than you. “I never expect to meet such a beauty out here, Commander Thornton. Though I must admit your eyes are less bright than the suns.” That's an odd compliment. Noticing your confusion, he continues, “I haven't seen coral in person yet, but judging from the photos it is probably more red than your lips.” Huh, is he trying to flatter you?

“Uh, uhm, I can't see your breasts, but I would guess that they are dun, like, hmm, dirty snow.” You instinctively cross your hands in front of your chest. Salzar is red-hot from second-hand embarrassment. Tim suddenly bursts out laughing, “I think we have heard enough of your little poetry recital, Lieutenant Thanaret.”

Sensing an opportunity to get him far away from the upcoming meeting, you quickly follow up, “We don't have coral in our aeroponics but the other plants are quite pretty as well. Johnson, can you lead the Lieutenant here on a tour of the ship?” You didn't say it out loud, but you are certain he can read the true intentions plastered on your face. Calmly, he grabs the youth's shoulder and leads him out of the room without another word.

“What a fucking mess, isn't it, capt'?” Your neck cringes at a strong gust of wind from the vent blowing on the sweat-soaked collar. “We have seen nothing yet. Remember, someone had to teach Thanaret junior that awful introduction. Or maybe he was never taught anything at all.”

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>>6024710
You grab the bottle of bog-whiskey from the trolley, “Follow me, I'm meeting the old man at the airlock. Either we hit it off or I boot him off this ship. Salzar, take over the deck, will you?” The ensign gives a resigned salute as you leave.

After a journey in silence, you finally gather up enough courage to ask Silas the burning question, “I almost had to throw my own second officer into the brig back there. I don't want to rehearse this play again, Si. Nonetheless, why Tim, why? Couldn't you just find someone like yourself? You know, the scoundrel with a heart of gold type.”

Silas chuckles, “Even if there are enough of us out there to fill out a ‘type’, there won't be any left for latecomers like you, Vee. And you'll soon find out the things they always carry with them...” You always had a hunch that his regret extends much further back than your father's deaths, and it keeps getting stronger. What is Silas hiding?

A long while of silence later, the airlock finally opens to reveal Thomas Thanaret. The lower half of his jaw and much of his throat is made of dull steel. You try not to gaze under his hoarse laughter, “What is this, Commander Thornton? You stared down a-whole-nother band of cockroaches like those we just killed and yet you couldn't look an old man in the eye?”

He turns to Silas, “Or perhaps the credit should go to our friend here instead? A landlubber bagging four bogeys on her first run has that magical air to it, don't you think?” Ah, so punchability does run in families. Your first officer mirthlessly replies, “You know better to belittle a fellow officer's valour like so, Commander Thanaret.” Not a hint of annoyance at the demotion. At least he could take as much as he dishes out.

“Anyway, Luang Thanaret, you must be thirsty from the ride, let us drink to the victory.” You quickly unscrew the cap and pour out the amber liquid into the waiting glasses. Wait a minute, didn't the other two bottles have corks instead? You watch in horror as Thanaret gulps down his portion without waiting for a cheer, “Now that's what I'm talking about. I like your style, Thornton, going straight for the heavy stuff. No need for that sissy champagne.” Your heart silently sighs in relief as your wine blindness works out for once.

You gently guide the small talk towards Thanaret's accomplishments. “You must be dying to hear how I got my hands on that beaut of a lass-zer.” Gently smile and nod while refilling his glass. “Well, too long for what little whiskey we had left.” Just as he finished the sentence the son rounded the corner. Tim is nowhere to be seen. “Maybe some other time, eh?”

>>6024712
You hastily swallow down a burp as the two Thanarets embrace each other. “Don't say farewell yet, my fair lady, there's still a Q&A session. Choose your question wisely, his Highness can only spare so much time.” Maybe Tim was right, both of these monsters should be flushed out into the void.
>"Where are you heading after this? You must have heard of the ruckus in Kaskandir."
>"Why did you charge that destroyer head-on? You could just whittle it down from afar."
>"I hope luck keeps on smiling your way, Thanaret, even if you have no use for it."
>"Did you really do what they accused you of, back in Tayming? I won't record this."
>Write-in

>>6023704
I will pretend to not see that. As long as I believe there is no curse, it can't hit me, right?

>>6024716
>"Where are you heading after this? You must have heard of the ruckus in Kaskandir."

>>6024716
>>"Did you really do what they accused you of, back in Tayming? I won't record this."

>>6024716
>"Where are you heading after this? You must have heard of the ruckus in Kaskandir."

>>6024968
>>6026403
>"Where are you heading after this? You must have heard of the ruckus in Kaskandir."

>>6025506
>>"Did you really do what they accused you of, back in Tayming? I won't record this."

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>>6026576
The rattle Thanaret's steel jaw makes when he laughs is enough to shake your innermost instincts. “You already know the answer, young lady. Straight for this Cascandir, of course. Who would ever turn down a good tussle like that?” As the airlock door closes, Silas gives you a meaningful nod. Looks like the fight never really left this one.

Tim is already back at the bridge when you return. He immediately greets you with a salute. Interesting. “Both you and the junior Thanaret have given me much to think over. I do appreciate it.” You smile graciously, “Glad to hear that, Johnson. I understand the last few weeks have been... difficult. Can't promise it'll get better.”

He hands you a slip of paper. “Don't jinx yourself like that.” You don't even need to look past the header to know what the letter is about. At last, the official summon has been sent out. Thanks to Moynihan, all three of your ship's quantum pulse arrays has suffered inexplicable malfunction as soon as the first few sentences of the message made it through, but even this little trick can only buy so much deniability.

A few hours later, at least one thing did go right in this day. In order to gain speed, Inger has slingshotted the ship danger close to the primary. That a maintenance airlock was suddenly depressurised during the manoeuvre was an unfortunate coincidence. You catch Silas making the spacer's cross on hearing Goldsmith report the ‘irrecoverable loss’ of a few unmarked containers. As for yourself, you can only hope such superstitions won't be necessary.

News update
>Conflict in Kaskandir continues, battleships from First Fleet soon to arrive in the region.
>More than 5 million credits raised by popular subscription to finance purchase of new ships.
>Reports of unknown warships on the fringes of Directorate space dismissed as ‘baseless rumour.’
>Minister of Internal Security on alleged maltreatment of Hawaiian Qyngurs: “National security is paramount.”
>United Nations General Assembly unanimously passes condemnation of Qyngur aggression in Kaskandir.

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>>6026577
You whisper into Ienaga's ears, “No intent to disrespect, but I just have to make sure. You told no one about our plans, correct?” Ienaga nods towards the blinged out officer/warlord examining his fake nails. “No, of course not. Can't be anyone but him.” The garish man sits up properly in his chair before calling out to you, “Commander Sylvia Thornton, what's with the hush-hush? You are hurting poor Okwonko's feelings here. And the Tas-sickly man too.” Jean-Pierre briefly looks up from his paperbook to curse in French.

“And why would he do that? They used to work for rival crime families, no?” Your interlocutor merely laughs, “No loyalty but money for them. My theory is, she must have put a decent prize on your whereabouts. But why?” That is certainly one possibility. The other possibility is intently observing you from across the room. You try to ignore him as best you can, but he has a way of coiling up your spine with his presence alone. “Docking sequence complete,” Goldsmith announces over the PA.

Okwonko, bored with haranguing you, turned instead to the presence. “And who are you, my friend? I don't think I saw you at any parties. Probably because I was too high!" He slaps his thighs wheezing. The cat speaks softly under a harmless smile, “Nobody. I am not here. I was never anywhere.” Realising who he's up against, the pirate quickly shuts his trap.

The door opens to reveal the uninvited guest, tiger fur cape draped over her shoulders. She makes a show of puffing cigar smoke at the agent before slithering over to your side. “My, my. I never expect that bore Raymond to father such an exquisite...” Her long fingers pass through your hair. “Ah, is that camphor I hear? Refined taste as well. I can't wait to make you squirm under my tongue.” The glossy purple lipstick is getting all over your ear as she nibbles on it. Ienaga nods to you, hand already wrapped around his sword hilt.

“Leave her alone, Commander Liu. What part of ‘no sexual harassment’ do you not understand?” Jean-Pierre sets down his book to reveal a powder-pistol already trained on the seductress' face. “No fun as always, John. So puritan for a Frenchman. Sure your gun's still working fine?” His thumb flicks the safety lever forward. “What did you not understand?”

Okwonko breaks into the tense atmosphere, “Leave the fun for later, Ma. We have business to do first.” Liu pinches your hip one last time before Ienaga chases her away. He tosses a pouch of bone dice onto the table. “Just in case we can't agree to disagree.” He smiles broadly, revealing a mosaic of gold and silver teeth.

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>>6026578
You and the others test out Okwonko's dice to make sure they aren't loaded, settling on a pair of d6 in particular. Liu makes a show of tossing them around in a martini shaker before revealing the results, three times in quick succession. First question, who is going to lead the operation? The others will probably vote for themselves, so you can easily break the tie by doing something unexpected.
>Jean-Pierre de Tassigny. (DC 2 to convince others to support him)
>Ienaga Takahara. (DC 3)
>Okwonko. (DC 4)
>Ma ‘Dame’ Liu. (DC 6)
>Yourself. (DC 4)

Second question, where will you jump into?
>As close as possible to the exit (A). You have enough escorts. (DC 4, chance of ambush)
>On the other side (B). Better to brave the station's gauntlet. (DC 3, constant harassment)
>Far from the exit (C). They won't expect you there. (DC 3, longer distance to cover)
>Right on the middle-point (D). Thanaret is onto something with his tactics (DC 5, knife-fighting)
>Draw-in (I will decide DC).

Rolled 5 (1d6)

>>6026579
>Jean-Pierre de Tassigny. (DC 2 to convince others to support him)

>As close as possible to the exit (A). You have enough escorts. (DC 4, chance of ambush)

>>6026579
>Jean-Pierre de Tassigny. (DC 2 to convince others to support him)
>Far from the exit (C). They won't expect you there. (DC 3, longer distance to cover)

Rolled 2 (1d6)

>>6027326

>>6026579
>Jean-Pierre de Tassigny. (DC 2 to convince others to support him)
>As close as possible to the exit (A). You have enough escorts. (DC 4, chance of ambush)

>>6026579
>Yourself. (DC 4)
>Far from the exit (C). They won't expect you there. (DC 3, longer distance to cover)

Since I have to keep track of more things during combat than usual, I would appreciate a tiebreaker ASAP between
>A
>C
Also don't forget to roll 2d6 with your post. I'll probably put the roll instructions in spoiler text from now on since it can be hard to weave dice rolling into the narrative without sacrificing either precision or naturalness.

Rolled 4, 1 = 5 (2d6)

>>6026579
>>Jean-Pierre de Tassigny. (DC 2 to convince others to support him)
>>As close as possible to the exit (A). You have enough escorts. (DC 4, chance of ambush)

Rolled 5, 2 = 7 (2d6)

Rolling the last dice. I will put >>6026822 and >>6027329 together into one pair.

I will be moving to a daily format from now on until combat ends
>>6026822
>>6027326
>>6027378
>>6028143
>de Tassigny

>>6027614
>Yourself


>>6028143
>>6027378
>>6026822
>A

>>6027326
>>6027614
>C

>>6028260
Forgot the rolls: 5-2; 4-1; 5-2
First question: 5 vs. 2. Major Success!
Second question: 2 vs. 4. Saved by Yamir's spy.

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>>6028265
“No need for dice.” You unceremoniously toss the metallic cubes back into the rhino-skin pouch. “I vote for Jean-Pierre. He has the most experience out of anyone here.” Okwonko laughs again in that half-mocking tone. “Don't underestimate me like that, Thornton. Don't you know I be fighting ever since I kicked my hag's stomach open?” You give him a half-polite smile in return.

“My vote for Tassigny, too.” Ienaga draws his sword in slow motion. “That makes three of us, then.” Okwonko casts a sidelong glance in surprise. Liu wraps her spidery hands around your hip. “Us kitties have to stick together.” The point of the duralloy blade misses her nose by a whisker. What you would have given to Ienaga to make a mistake.

“Put away the sword. I won't have my officers at one another's throat while the real enemy is circling all around us.” Jean-Pierre's words alone are enough to disarm the latter-day duelist. “Now, are you certain the intel is correct, Commander Thornton?” You nod, “Yes, I would recommend we jump right in between these two formations and make our way to the exit immediately.”

“And what if we land too close to their destroyer formations?” You smile nervously, “We won't.” Why is it so cold in here suddenly? “We will follow Commander Thornton's plan then. Any final notes?”

“Yes, my source is part of the forward scouts, one of the destroyers. He will tag me as soon as we jump in. Until then, best to not go too hard." The agent stops shaking his laps and leans forward ever so slightly. “You heard her. Hold fire for as long as you can. If there are no other questions then, dismiss. We set out 2 hours from now.”

Liu makes a show of kissing her business card before dropping it into your breast pocket. “We still have to talk. Call me later.” She hisses at Ienaga's stare, “None of you men's business.” The agent raises his eyebrows, and the hair on your neck, but quickly disappears behind the door without a word.

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>>6028270
Setting your main engine on neutral, Inger uses the remaining thrusters to gently nudge your ship's heading. Missing the target by just a fraction of a fraction of a degree could potentially shoot your ship straight past Molosses' gravity well and right into the next world, if there is one.

Once everyone else has settled into their positions in the arrow-shaped formation, Jean-Pierre greenlights the final cooldown. 3. Tim grips tightly onto a safety handle, “Never love these breaching operations.” 2. Here goes nothing. 1.

“Saints in heaven, Charlie's on top of us.” Moynihan makes the spacer's cross before nearly shouting into the radio. “4 bogeys. Elevation 80 degrees. .7 mil klicks, burning in fast. ETA 20 minutes. Do you copy? Skyline over.” You nearly fall over as Inger does an emergency barrel roll to bring the ventral battery into play. “Armitage here, copy. Moving to intercept. All other ships, remain in formation. Do not engage. I repeat, do not engage. Over.”

You quietly thank Jean-Pierre for remembering your request. A moment later, two out of four blips sputter and fall out of formation. “Multiple torpedo hits registered. Sparrow-1 and Heron-3 disabled. I repeat, Sparrow-1, Heron-3 disabled. Over.” The last two destroyers engage in a brief knife fight before Heron-2 also joins its compatriots.

The Armitage makes short work of one last poorly-aimed torpedo barrage from Heron-2. Before fleeing the crime scene, Heron-1 fires a brief tightbeam at your cruiser. “Yamir-Hysret sends his regards. May the Hys years never end!”

Liu's shrill voice interrupts a small celebration on your combat information centre, “Main enemy force in disarray. Moving in for torpedo run. Requesting all fire support available. Razoredge, over.” Jean-Pierre quickly responds, “Stay in formation, stay in formation, goddamnit, Razoredge, do you copy?” The twin destroyers pull further and further away from the rest of your fleet. Jean-Pierre's light cruiser promptly chases after them, all guns blazing.

"Skyline, Yushi, Invincible. Fire at will. Suppress them until we get out." Tim looks at you with suspicion. He and you both realise how mighty convenient this is.
>Follow Jean-Pierre's orders. You dislike Liu, but you can't leave him in the lurch.
>Fire slowly and deliberately. You can't risk hitting friendlies now, can you?
>Suppress Heart's Perch instead. He never specified which target to shoot.
>Manoeuvre to place Razoredge between you and the enemy. Time for some danger close ‘support’. (Tim disapproves of this)
>Write-in.

>>6028282
>Follow Jean-Pierre's orders. You dislike Liu, but you can't leave him in the lurch.

>>6028282
>>Follow Jean-Pierre's orders. You dislike Liu, but you can't leave him in the lurch.

I will wait until tomorrow so everyone have a chance to vote

>>6028282
>Follow Jean-Pierre's orders. You dislike Liu, but you can't leave him in the lurch.

I will make a new thread tomorrow.
>>6028356
>>6029112
>>6029282
>Follow Jean-Pierre's orders. You dislike Liu, but you can't leave him in the lurch.

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“You heard the order, Elysium. Give those cruisers hell!” Ienaga, heartened by your commitment, also starts unloading barrages after barrages of missiles at the retreating Snapdragons. Only Okwonko remains strangely passive, dispatching only a couple of fighter wings to escort the charging destroyers.

“Keep it coming, Sylvie dear. I'm almost in range. Transmitting torpedo firing plots.” Your hands wound tighter around the safety bars as the hologram projection updates to show the new course. She's firing too late, far too late. There's no way they will be able to disengage at this rate, which can only mean one thing. Their rearguard will waltz right next to your unwieldy cruiser group virtually unopposed.

Flame bursts in jets from the Armitage's starboard as the ship hastily makes a U-turn. Its radio is blaring on all frequencies, “Launch torpedoes now, Razoredge, Scarface. Disengage immediately and regroup with me. Over.” So Liu hasn't informed Jean-Pierre of her plans? The destroyers keep hurtling towards the enemy cruisers, heedless of the thickening curtain of coilgun fire around them. Even if it makes no difference, you still feel obliged to scream into the mouthpiece, “Liu, did you copy Jean's orders? Retreat, retreat ASAP. Over.”

A recognition dawns on Tim as he draws a shaky line on the hologram. “Commander, she's burning right through.” At last, the destroyers release their deadly payload, 22 in all. The enemy cruisers briefly fall silent as Liu passes between them to avoid friendly fire. The fist remains suspended just long enough to make the battered face beam with hope before crashing down with ever greater frequency, now on Jean-Pierre's lone cruiser.

“A hit, a hit! Did you see that, John?” The Armitage humorlessly relays the Razoredge's message as it ducks and weaves in-between the lethal crossfire. The impressive fusillade has hit only a hapless old frigate, splitting it in half. In response, three destroyers are now swiftly gaining on Jean-Pierre, eager to avenge their stricken brethen. You doubt his ability to keep these hyenas at bay for long.

“Strike formations are ready, Frenchman. Which one to fry? Over.” Finally, Okwonko has woken up. “Invincible, get these flies off of me. The rest of you, keep firing on the Snapdragons. Over.” The relentless pace of your cruiser's railguns picks up as they finally found their range. The noose tightening round the Armitage loosens as one of the cruisers jerks erratically back and forth to shake off the baying 12-inch slugs.

>>6030285
Finally, a handful of shells strike true, knocking out most of Snapdragon-1 dorsal battery in one go. Now that Elysium no longer yells, there is nothing to relieve the oppressive tension in the bridge. Missiles from the Yushi quickly follows, punching another set of holes in the cruiser's starboard. The wounded ship banks hard port and starts limping back to the station on the other side of the system. The destroyers also temporarily back off to avoid Okwonko's approaching drone strike.

Everyone on your bridge, except for one, leans back from their monitors in collective relief. You even catch some soft cheers and sniffs. Your second officer's face remains stern. “We're not in the clear yet. They're forming up with Sparrow-2's squadron. Jean-Pierre is a great captain, but he can't stop half a dozen destroyers by himself.”

He whispers into your ear, “There's no shame in retreat while we still have the advantage.” True, Liu would be stranded, but she brings it on herself, ignoring orders like that. Conversely, fighting this out and winning would boost your reputation immensely.
>Recall Liu and try to retreat in good order. Panic means certain death.
>Run away from the approaching force. Use your range advantage.
>Close in on the remaining Snapdragon. You're not leaving without another kill.
>Charge the destroyers. Surprise is the strongest weapon. (observing Thanaret's earlier manoeuvre has led to an insight.)
>Flee with Ienaga and Jean-Pierre. Screw Okwonko and Liu.

>>6030286
>>Charge the destroyers. Surprise is the strongest weapon. (observing Thanaret's earlier manoeuvre has led to an insight.)
Who dares, wins

>>6030286
>Charge the destroyers. Surprise is the strongest weapon. (observing Thanaret's earlier manoeuvre has led to an insight.)

>>6030286
>Charge the destroyers. Surprise is the strongest weapon. (observing Thanaret's earlier manoeuvre has led to an insight.)

>>6030283
Try not to die in the meantime

>>6030286
>Recall Liu and try to retreat in good order. Panic means certain death.

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Sorry for the sudden disappearance. I got a bit too caught up in drawing maps yesterday instead of actually writing. I will make the next thread later in the day, assuming nothing strange happens in the meantime

>>6030431
>>6031245
>>6032214
>Charge the destroyers

>>6032299
>Retreat with everyone