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Your journey begins in the Terran system - the previous Captain Hansen has passed away, and his ship has made it's way back to the heart of the UTA in order to pick up it's new master and his compatriots. The return is no mere formality - as the Hansen Warrant is passed to the next generation, it must be signed within the system itself, and witnessed by the pertinent officials. After this, you have your freedom to find whatever may await you in the great expanse.
Roland McCall
The ship has been docked for several weeks, undergoing re-fitting and re-supply. Your service with the former Captain had been pleasant - he was a good hearted, elderly man, and somehow still a fairly successful merchant, and you've spent the last few years living a relatively calm, peaceful life, somewhat unusual for a member of a warpship crew. That time may be coming to an end - your former friend and leader met his end several months ago, and the ship is about to come under the command of his son, who you know very little about. At best, it will be a new era of high adventure, faith spread to those in need, and perhaps some inner redemption. At worst, it will be another several quiet years slowly charting new trade routes and ministering to the souls on the ship.
Either way, you have determined to sign on for yet another term of service, whatever it might bring.
You are pulled away from what you are doing by the chime of your quarters' hailing system. It rings several times before you can answer it, and you are greeted by a gruff, unpleasant voice that identifies itself as one of the bridge crew.
"Reverend, I've been asked to tell you that our new Captain will be docking in roughly two hours. Master Snow thought you might want to be present to greet him and his advisors when they arrive. She's also asked me to instruct you to dress 'nicely' if you're planning to join them. Meet her at airlock 2, deck 23." The comm snaps off, the busy officer returning to readying the ship for departure and not waiting for your reply.
Everyone Else
A loud blaring noise awakes you from your sleep, and is quickly followed by the shuttle's pilot making an abrubt announcement over the intercom: "Docking in two hours. All hands make ready."
Finally. You've spent the last five days in a cramped, poorly lit shuttle, making the trip from Terra, through the main asteroid belt that seperates the inner solar system from the outer, and with it, Jupiter station and the system's array of Gates.
For the planetbound people of Terra, most of whom can only dream of journeying into space, the trip might have been a stunning, wonderous event. To those simple folks, the sights and smells of the busy UTA station you embarked from would have been a fantastic experience - huge galleys filled with the noise of a thousand voices, each one trying to exchange whatever they have for you credits. In the short time you were there, it is almost certain that many millions changed hands, small fortunes were found and lost, and all manner of shady backroom deals came and passed.
If the station seemed impressive, then your passage through the asteroid belt certainly would have been a divine experience. Though they live humble lives, the colonists of the Main Belt certainly have a visually striking home: hundreds of rocks linked together, life swarming in a place it was never meant to be, and the lights of thousands of buildings being cast into the darkness of space.
For men such as yourselves though, having spent much of your lives moving around and having seen wonders far greater than some rock farmers and a busy market place, those sights were nothing remarkable. Even Jupiter Station itself, one of the largest within the UTA's territories, home to hundreds of thousands of souls, and never sleeping as it interacts with the thousands of ships coming and going, does not leave too much of an impression.
What does, though, is the Terran system's array of Warp Gates - ten of them, always active, firing ships off into the black abyss one after the other, the beating heart that pumps the lifeblood of the UTA. Watching closely, you can see the blast of purple light emitted each time one fires. It's truly a wonder of technology and co-ordination, but there's no time to think of that now.
Though you can't see it yet, your new ship, and destiny, are scant hours away, and you should ready yourself for docking.
-
Sighing as he closed his bible and stood. He opened the old wooden drawer of his dresser and pulled out a white button up shirt along with a pair of blue jeans that he put on top of the dresser. Pulling his clothes off he quickly changed into his more presentable clothes, only more presentable in the fact that they were yet to be in need of patching since he had only recently acquired them.
Pulling out his leather boots from underneath the bed and retrieving a pair of socks he wondered who the new crew members coming with the captain would be like. As he pulled the socks on he reasoned to himself that he would find out soon enough. As he picked up the boots he stopped for a second and looked at the spurs attached to them. His thoughts ran to a time that seemed far too long ago when he was but a child learning to ride one of the animals the farmers had used to help herd animals.
He snapped back to reality after a handful of seconds and pulled the boots on. Standing he put his belt on, letting his finger tips run along the old cracked leather before stopping at the attached holster and his mind yet again wondered to another time and place though this time a less happy time. Finishing putting his belt on he picked up his revolver and checked the cylinder. Seeing that it was fully loaded he snapped it closed and holstered the weapon.
He looked at the armor sitting on the top of his dresser and picked up the chest and back plates. Securing them and then putting on the thigh plates. He reached over and grabbed his duster and pulled it on. He finally picked up the double barrel shotgun and opened the breach, sliding in the shells and snapping it closed before letting it rest on it's sling over his shoulder.
Finally he picked up the bible and secured the clasp that held the book closed and slid it into one of the large pockets of his duster. Starting out of his room he buttoned his duster as he walked. "Oh Lord, I, your humble servant, seek your favor today as I meet these men. May your wisdom shine down upon me and guide me in helping them find you. Amen." He said this short prayer as he got close to the area in which he would meet the new captain and crew.
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Mark jolted awake at the pilots announcement over the intercomm and quietly got to his feet. His her was disheveled and he smelt like he hadn't showered in days though that could simply be the smell of smoke wafting in the air. Despite the pilot warning him several times, he would ignore the annoying bastard and smoke anyway since it was the only thing that kept in calm in what was essentially a metal coffin flying through space.
Of course that wasn't the only thing going through his mind right now. With the sudden and tragic death of his father, Mark was left as the sole heir to his father's ship The Iliad. It was a modified Light Cruiser capable of reaching those secrets the galaxy has not yet relinquished. Now it would be his turn to continue the Hansen name of going where no man has gone before and gaining the untold riches just waiting to be picked up.
For now though he lit another doobie and waited for the pilot to hurry the fuck up. Destiny was in his grasp.
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Charo gets out of bed with a grumble, he puts on his normal clothes and his RIG. He walks to his personal suit Kiosk, it lets him put on his suit, clean his suit, and check for damages. He walks in and gets his suit on, but helmet still in his suit. After he grabs his gear and heads out. He mumbles to himself, "Should I grab some feckin' grub? Bah, there's prob'ly grub on th' ship." he activates his helmet and starts to walk to the ship.
Charo looks at the ship, he whistles and says in a digital, metallic voice, "Cyoar, ain't that a noice ship..."
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Locke hadn't been sleeping. He never did like to sleep in crowded places. Probably his natural uneasiness in the face of other humans at work, but he couldn't help that. Came with the lifestyle, he supposed. He was currently sitting on the small cot allotted to him, his possessions still packed away in the enormous trunk next to him, a stubby cigar clenched in the right side of his mouth smoking up the surrounding area. The cocktail of amphetamines he'd popped a few hours ago had sure started to feel like they were wearing off, but he still had a few hours to go.
The announcement came, same as it always did, and he listened disinterestedly, the only sign of acknowledgement coming in a shift of his cigar from the right side to the left side, and a prolonged blinking of his cybernetically-enhanced eyes. Nobody was in the beds near to him to take notice anyways. He supposed that also came with the territory. If you choose a roommate, so to speak, a six-foot-nine-inch scar-covered cyborg who takes about an hour in the weapons check-in probably wouldn't be your first choice.
Wouldn't be Locke's, either. Not that he'd ever encountered another one.
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Roland McCall
The journey across the ship takes some time - even with the use of lifts and conveyors, it's a big ship. You finally arrive at Airlock 2, Deck 23, to find Snow and a small honor guard waiting.
"Reverend! Glad you could make it." Snow greets you with a warm smile. She's a deceptively young looking woman, who's age you've never clearly been able to established, and has served as Ship's Master since just before your arrival on the Iliad. Whatever her age and experience may be, her competence is indisputable - there are few places on the ship itself she doesn't know as well as the sound of her own voice, and she's obviously well traveled, being very versed in UTA protocol and much of the lore of the central UTA-controlled regions of space.
"You're just in time. The shuttle is just coming alongside for docking now." Her words are punctuated by a dull thud as the shuttle makes contact with the airlock.
Everyone Else
"Five minutes to docking." The announcement is no less grating than the first one, and it seems like the ship's pilot just loves to disturb the quietest of moments with these things.
Looking out the small viewports, you can catch the first glimpse of the Iliad as it looms ever closer. It towers over the shuttle, well over a kilometer long, and it's armoured hull bears the scars of many battles and adventures. The shuttle begins to slow, pitching upwards towards an airlock near the bridge, and you're gifted with a quick look down the bore of one of it's many port-side macrocannons. It's a pretty impressive sight.
"All hands, brace for docking." the pilot shouts again. A large jolt runs through the shuttle, punctuated by a loud clang, and followed by snapping sounds as the airlock's bolts seal, binding the shuttle to the side of the Iliad. You can hear a curse from somewhere in the crew cabin - apparently someone neglected to brace. Seconds later, there is a tremendous hissing noise as air fills the lock, the doors open, and the pressure equalizes between the two vessels.
Everyone
The airlock's outer door opens, and the honor guard steps forward into two neat lines.
"Captain on the deck!" Snow exclaims, and the guard brings their rifles up in a neat salute. "Gentlemen, welcome to the Iliad. I'm Angela Snow, Ship's Master under the previous Captain Hansen. It's been my duty to see to the day-to-day operation of this vessel, as well as provide what information I can to the Captain and his advisers."
She gestures to the man next to her. "This is Reverend McCall, Ship's Chaplain. Captain Hansen often referred to him as his conscience." As she speaks, several other crew members step forward to take your belongings on board. It's fairly obvious that none of them are too keen to grab Locke's enormous stack of heavy looking gear, but a sharp look from Master Snow causes them to relent, and begin hauling that as well.
"We're prepared to launch, but we should attend to the formalities of the Transfer of the Warrant before we do so, unless you're all keen on dragging the UTA bastard who's making an ass of himself on the bridge with us. He's got everything prepared - a signature or two, and he should be out of our hair. If any of you have any questions about the ship, what to expect on the Warrant itself, or anything else, ask them while we walk. These fuckers can smell weakness a half a sector away and won't hesitate to tack a dozen new conditions on it if they can."
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Collin grudgingly got out of bed and into the deck. He mingles into the crowd like anyone else.
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Locke nodded here and there as the woman spoke, introducing the ship's local chaplain and asking them to attend some ceremony with a windbag UTA employee. She was a talker. He'd never had the patience for talkers, but she seemed capable enough, what with the way the underlings relented under her glare, and so she was alright in his book. Locke didn't know the Reverend, and probably never would, he'd never gotten along with men of faith, but there's a first time for everything.
He straightened out his hat, tossing his burnt cigar into the nearest applicable receptacle, and shouldered his coat to look a little more presentable, finally opening his mouth to speak. "W#nderful. I'm gl#D to be a Part oF this fine sh#p, miss. Let's go get the fO#malities overwith." His voice, at this point in time, could best be described as a few people speaking monotone through a bad mic, albeit rising and falling randomly in pitch and degenerating into static here and there. All in all, rather disconcerting, and probably just unpleasant to hear.
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Roland gave a short smile at Snow's description of the UTA man before nodding to the new captain and crew and saying "Welcome aboard, I am here for any spiritual needs you may have or if you just need counseling. I'm also capable with my revolver and shotgun if the need arises."
Roland idly reached a hand up to check one of the buttons on his duster as he continued "I'm sure we all can agree that we'll be much more comfortable once this business with the UTA is taken care of."
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"Weakness? Such things do not exist in my presence or in those that follow me. Mark said as he take one final drag before crushing the still lit roach in his hand. This was it, the moment he had been training his whole life for. Snow was a nice enough woman when he was growing up but she did not abide the usual young recklessness that came along with a child. She was like Mark's stern step mother though now the situation had change drastically since they last spoke.
He focused his eyes back onto Snow and said with a smile, "As much as I find the prospect of keeping pets hilarious, I'm afraid we can't. So let us hurry along and finish the transfer quickly. I'm sure my father left his other physical inheritance somewhere on board and I am most eager to find it."
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Snow returns the smile, but the concern in her eyes is readily evident. "I should hope so, sir. Assuming you'll keep me on as Master, it's still my duty to suggestion some caution when dealing with stooges like the one we're about to meet."
The trip to the bridge is rather short - a fast ride in one of the ship's myriad lifts, a quick walk, and you find yourselves outside one of it's half-dozen entrances. Snow inputs a short code into the panel next to the door, and the massive piece of steel that separates the command center from the corridor slides effortlessly upwards.
Stepping through into the bridge proper, you move on to the upper most level of the multi-storied room, overlooking a couple hundred of the bridge crew on the floors beneath you, moving around like so many ants in a hive.
"CAPTAIN ON THE BRIDGE!" the alert rings out through hidden comms, and all activity halts while your crew turns to give a brief salute. To your left are a series of consoles, positioned in a large circle around a giant hololithic tank which currently displays Jupiter station in detail, and to your right is the captain's chair, raised slightly on a platform and overlooking what are obviously rows of command consoles and displays.
Directly in front of you is a massive viewport that spans nearly the whole length of the wall, which would give you an excellent view of the flashing Gates in the distance. Unfortunately, that view is blocked by a rather unpleasant looking individual wearing the grey uniform of the UTA Naval Services. He's short, fat, and decidedly ugly - this is not helped by the series of tech-augments protruding from the back of his skull. If you had to guess, they are likely designed to increase his cognitive abilities, and if he's typical of mid-ranking UTA bureaucrats, he probably needs them.
"Captain!" he trills, giving Mark what could only be described as a morbid grin, and rubbing his hands together in a nervous, obsequious manner, "It is sooo good to *finally* meet you."
From the back of the party, Snow mutters something under her breath. You don't need to hear it to know it wasn't a complimentary statement.
"It's rather exciting to be aboard such a fine ship, and in the company of such..." there is a distinct pause as he searches for a word, "....unique individuals."
Without waiting for a reply, he motions over a youthful, mildly embarrassed looking man wearing a similar uniform, and snatches a set of data slates from his hands. "I have the Warrant here," he waves one of the slates, "and the transfer papers prepared for you here - there is no need to worry about reading either of them over - I'm assured that it's all merely legal mutterings that are beyond the understanding of men like us anyway!"
Giving the slates a quick glance, he hands one of them over to Mark, hugging the other to his body as though it may try to escape him. Most of it is indeed probably standard boilerplate, detailing nothing of importance. At the bottom is a short paragraph followed by several signatory lines.
I, Mark Hansen, make declaration of acceptance of the Captaincy of the ship known as the Iliad, having inherited the rights of Warrant from my father, former Captain David Hansen.
I agree to serve in the best interests of the UTA, and to place the values of United Humanity above that of my own.
In signing this form, I also agree to submit to any Conditions attached in the Warrant, be it at it's time of origin, included at the Declarations of my predecessors, or added at the time of my Declaration, as detailed in the Warrant itself and unless . I understand that failing to comply with the Conditions as detailed in the Warrant will result in prosecution and due punishment as accorded in section 3 of the Warrant of Liberty.
__________________
Mark Hansen, Captain
__________________
Junior Adjunct Toomes, Facilitator and Condition Negotiator
In signing this, the witnesses attest that Captain Mark Hansen has made this agreement of his own free will, and in full understanding of the Conditions of the Warrant.
__________________
Witness
__________________
Witness
The UTA officer, Toomes according to the paperwork, hands Mark an electropen. "As I say, it's all very standard, nothing more. Signatures please, and we'll be done here."
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Mark squints at the poorly lit dataslate. Green text on a black ground is a poor choice for legal documentation and must be done on purpose to fuck with people who don't read the fine print.
"Hand me the other dataslate, I need to read my obligations before I sign anything."
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Toomes flashes his sickly grin again. "It's not healthy to worry so much Captain! I assure you, it's" He is cut short by Snow moving towards him and grabbing the dataslate from his grip. She presses a few buttons on the slate, and the Warrant pops up on several nearby displays for the party to see. The Adjunct looks ready to protest, but a glance at the three large, dangerous looking men standing behind the Captain stops him.
Snow scrolls through the Warrant - most of it is indeed also simple legalities and not overly important, but she halts at a particular point in Section 8 - Conditions. There are ALOT of them. "Correct me if I'm wrong, JUNIOR Adjunct, but most of these have already been fulfilled by previous Captains."
"Yes, ah, allow me to highlight the pertinent areas so the good Captain can clearly see them."
Existing Conditions:
5. The Captain shall report any contact with a non-compliant populated world promptly and without deception, as negotiated at the Issuance of this Warrant.
8. In the event of a direct request, the Iliad shall participate in any UTA mandated compliance actions applied to a non-compliant, populated world, as negotiated at the Issuance of this Warrant.
78. The Iliad shall spend no less than one week on station at the co-ordinates designated in Attachment B, and shall immediately report any activity that occurs there to the UTA authority designated in Attachment B, as negotiated by Captain Samuel Hansen at his Declaration.
The New Conditions section follows, and Snow lets out a snort of exasperation. There are roughly 50 new conditions attached, most of which deal with incredibly unexciting ventures, and include such items as spending several months moving colonists from one backwater to another, hauling mundane supplies to well-established worlds, and generally engaging in activities that are matched only in their mind-numbing insignificance by their mind-numbing dullness. Though the screen scrolls fairly quickly, Mark is pretty sure he even catches a glimpse of a condition instructing the Iliad to act as Junior Adjunct Toomes personal chauffeur between his office on Jupiter Station and his home on Terra.
Toomes sees the look of discontent on most of the faces present, and speaks. "It would be un-patriotic of me to refrain from requesting a few small favors on behalf of the Authority, wouldn't it? I would hope that you'd understand and agree to these minor requests, but if not, I am prepared to negotiate with yourself or your Appointed Negotiator." A smug look flashes on his face, and he adds "The UTA has, of course, always respected the freedoms of a Warranted Captain and his crew, so if you'd prefer, I feel a *small* financial contribution to our cause could lessen the load I've been asked to place on you."
Another quick glance at the previously completed conditions reveals that while some Captains did end up having to do a petty task or two, quite a few of them managed to avoid any new attachments.
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"You would find it un-patriotic to not ask if I could essentially be your taxi from your home here to Earth? You know, Toomes, I thought you would be a humble, respectable man but I can see those boosters haven't helped much. A shame too, since I have a feeling all the extra burdens that you," Mark says as he high-lights all the mundane things that were added to his father's list of stupid shit to do ,"place on my father probably didn't help his health much. It would, of course, be a shame if any causal links could be placed between you and my father's death, wouldn't it?
Him and the Admiral were such good friends too. Which reminds me, I'll be calling him this afterwards. How shall I tell him you are doing, Junior Adjunct Toomes?"
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Now, Locke is the type of man to adjust to new situations rather quickly. He always had been, and he'd never stop being one. And this situation was no different. He liked this captain. He had nerve, and he had a bit of crazy, so there was already a bit of a kinship. And he didn't like the other man, this Toomes. Weak, fat, lazy, and mean, albeit with nothing to back up the final one besides false threats and a cushy job in the UTA.
What Captain Hansen said would probably be enough to intimidate the asshole, but Locke wanted to make sure it was even more effective. Stepping forward, he places himself right behind the captain and slightly to the left, towering over his forceful new boss and staring directly at Toomes with a chilling, unblinking glare. With the kind of guy Locke is, this probably sent a good message.
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(I won't always post the rolls, but just to demonstrate how this all goes: 50 (Charm) + 10 (Fast Talking) + 10 (bunch of scary dudes behind the captain who implies you helped kill his father, pain is bad) + 10 (any admiral is scary) - 20 (stubborn lizard brained bureaucrat) - 5 ("Oh yeah, which admiral?") = modified 55. Rolled 29. Two degrees of success.)
Toomes becomes even more pale, if that's remotely possible. He stutters out some meaningless reply, his eyes flashing frantically between the faces of everyone present, before finally regaining his composure. "I... am sorry for the loss of such a great man, Captain." He scrolls through the list intently, focusing hard on it rather than look anyone present in the eyes. "While you have my sympathy, the UTA does not always act considerately in it's requests. Surely you understand, they must do what they need to in order to keep humanity prosperous and united." He stops scrolling, and brings up a single condition on the displays.
672. The Iliad shall, in the course of it's voyages, dock at the port at Alturis' World, and report on any activities there.
"A small thing, Captain, to be done at your leisure. Altruis is a world near the Rim, and a place you may pass near in your travels. It has previously been a key supplier of weaponry to our regional forces during previous compliance actions, though their services have not been called on in my lifetime. The Authority feels it would be beneficial to remind them of our existence, for the sake of unity and mutual prosperity." He waves the electropen towards Mark again.
His voice lowers slightly, so that the rest of the bridge crew cannot hear him, and his tone becomes a supplicating, pitiful one, bordering on a whine. "Please. My superiors will be unhappy if I can't get some kind of agreement from you. It's an easy chore, and won't pose any risk to you or your ship. Consult with your party if you disbelieve me. They may be familiar with it, and even if not, I doubt any of them would object to a short tour of a planetary manufacturing facility. It could even prove rather lucrative if the right opportunities arise."
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"I'm glad we could come to an understand Toomes. Now that my new conditions just list in this small but important task, I can now serve the UTA ever so faithfully." Mark said as he watched as the extra annoying terms and conditions leave the dataslate before signing his own name. To annoy Toomes even further, he had a small hear flourish at the end of his signature.
He then handed the dataslate over to Snow as he gave a sly wink.
-
Snow gives a slight nod of approval, and takes a quick glance over the paperwork before adding her own signature as a witness. She then hands the slate off to Locke, giving him an appraising look.
"You can spell your name while still looking scary, right?" she whispers.
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"I'lL tRy #y be#t, mIss." Locke whispers, his voice carrying off into high-pitched feedback before cutting off completely at the end of his sentence. He signs quickly and surprisingly neatly, in rather small cursive, the wires in his throat having a small sparking fit here and there before he hands the slate back, running his other hand over the sparking electronics dismissively.
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Charo says in a hollow* sounding metallic voice to Locke, "Are ya okay?"
((*sounds like it's coming from something hollow, not snide))
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A sound not unlike two microphones being brought very close together erupts from Locke's throat, both a bit scary and a bit worrying, but if the light rumbling of his chest means anything, then it's actually apparently the noise he makes when laughing. "DoN'# worry about #t, hAppens more than yoU'd th#nk." He rumbles, shrugging dismissively.
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Toomes, looking just about as disturbed by the exchange between the broken-voiced Locke and the indecipherably accented Charo as he was by the Captain's threats, reaches out and takes the dataslate, grudgingly adding his own signature.
"I'm glad we could all agree." he said, his tone still retaining an element of whineyness to it. "I'm sure you... people have *things* to do, so we'll be out of your way." He motions to his lacky, and without any further pomp or ceremony, they depart the bridge.
Snow lets out a bit of a chuckle. "Well, that was pretty effective, sirs." She walks over to the nearest command console, and presses a few buttons. The displays revert to a varity of different readouts, and she gestures to one of them. "Engines are just about warmed up and ready to go, and that toad should be off the ship in about 20 minutes." Reaching over to the Captain's chair, she picks up a pile of dataslates that had been resting in it, and passes them around.
"Your chair is warmed up if you want it, sir, and if you don't object, I took the liberty of preparing some excerpts on recent travels before your father's deaths. There's a lot of mundane shit in there, but I though you and your officers might find some of it interesting." Glancing at the chronometer on her arm, she stands up and stretches. "If it's ok with you, sir, I have to check on our current Chief of Security, who's been in sickbay since the UTA boarded. It's been long enough that there might actually be something wrong. The bridge crew here knows what they're doing, and can get us undocked with no issues. May I be dismissed?"
Most of the log is indeed pretty unexciting, but there are a few items that seem to pop out a bit.
- Passed through somewhere marked as the Verin system. Don't know what happened here, but there's nothing but a pile of wreckage, some burnt out hulls, and some big chunks of what might have been a planet at one point. It's all been floating out here a long time from the looks of it.
- Unnamed planet at 065.7603-778.3040-029.1929. Scans read life and a breathable atmosphere, lots of plant life. Sent two shuttles down, they never came back up.
- Overheard some talk in one of the bars in Ryza Station about a non-compliant planet near the Rim. Apparently the UTA has made it there yet, and the storyteller mentioned something about some incredibly powerful war machines. Might be worth a checkout.
- Stopped in at Kareem as per the conditions. Human civilization, mostly tribal. After submitting the report, we got a message from UTA to return and see if there was anything of value there. We'll get there eventually.
- BIG radiation storm at 901.9930-043.0780-111.5398. Some kind of anomaly in the center, but didn't want to risk everything investigating. Maybe when the storm dies down.
- As per conditions, went to check on the Bane system. Apparently something's gone down there - didn't get any transmissions when we entered the system, and came under fire almost immediately from an orbital station floating around Bane 1. Didn't bother reporting that to the UTA, I'm sure they'll eventually notice it when they realize the Gate is wrecked. Scans showed some serious damage to both inhabited planets in the system - those guys have enough trouble without the fucking Authority coming in.
- Lyrza is swimming in old tech. Brought some on board for trade. If we had more time here, I'd try to figure out where it's coming from.
- Did a flyby of Hubbard's World as per the conditions. Gate is still up and running (no surprise), but there's absolutely no traffic. Tons of transmissions, pretty much all religious in nature. Weird shit. Reported this to the UTA, who promptly told us they don't give two fucks as long as the gate is going.
- Some kind of new drug floating around. Ran into some samples as far coreward as Proxima Station. Apparently it's good shit, but the supply has been cut off for a while now. Maybe someone got too greedy. If we were less busy, might be worth trying to get a cut.
- Did a check of a completely empty patch of space. Had to stay there a week as per conditions. Waste of fucking time. Thanks, Sam. Glad you died well before my time.
- Stopped in at Gorgon's Palace. Motherfucker who came up with the idea of a pleasure world is a godsend. Good times.
- Distress call of some kind at 087.0589-322.2340-775.0394. We were far enough away that we couldn't detect the source, but whatever's there has a pretty powerful transmitter, and given that we were at least 150 lightyears out, is probably long dead.
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"Thank you Snow, you are dismissed."
It was then for the final act of taking command of the ship, something Mark has waited to do for a long time. He finally got to sit in the commanding chair, the chair his forefathers have worked tirelessly to maintain.
"So, I purpose we start our way from the top and work our way down. Any objections?"
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Roland shook his head as he said "That decision is up to you captain. For now I'll be heading to sickbay in case the Chief of Security requires my services. That is if that's okay with you."
Roland checked the clock on the bridge and took note of the time as he waited for the OK to go to sickbay.
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"Hey, cap'n, oi'll be at the canteen or whatever the technical title is... Call for me if you need me." Charo heads to the canteen
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"Insubordinate Charo..." Mark says as he waves his hand in annoyance, "Go ahead Chaplin, see to whatever you need to. We set our course to the Verin Sector!"
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Collin headed to the canteen to get some food. "I hope the food here isn't like the last place I was stationed at..." He mumbled. (Grade A responses here, folks! But no srsly I'm just really busy :c)
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Roland
Snow walks with you down the corridor, and you both enter the lift. "Well, that probably could have gone worse." She takes a pack of cigarettes out of her pocket, seems to contemplate them for a moment, then puts them away without lighting one. "What do you think of our new Captain and his friends?"
Charo and Collin
(Roll=44)
You wander the ship for a little bit, taking lifts at random, and ending up deep in the lower decks, before finally concluding that neither of you actually have any idea where any of the onboard services are. Fortunately, there's tons of people moving through the corridors for you to ask.
The first one who stops is a rather dirty looking man wearing a mismatch of what might have been uniforms at some point, likely at least a generation or two ago. "Ayuh, there's mor'n one place fer a man to eat and drink on the Iliad, sirahs. The best fer me is the canteen just near the engineering section. It innit the best of eats, or the best of drinks, but it's my peoples, if yeh get the meanin'." He quickly scrawls down the location for you and continues on his to where ever he was going before you can ask any other questions, chuckling to himself.
The Bridge
"Undocking procedure complete." The report rings out through the bridge's comms system, taking everyone a little off-guard. Compared to the docking and undocking of the shuttle, detaching the a ship the size of the Iliad from the enormous space station was smooth and silent.
Several of the displays above the command consoles begin to light up, displaying an increase in engine power, as well as navigational readouts. Outsides of the massive viewport, you can see the stormy, paint-pallet surface of Jupiter slide in front of you as the ship begins it's turn away from the port. One of the small speakers on the Captain's chair chimes, and the voice of one of the senior lieutenants running the navigational section several floors below you crackles through. "All systems look normal, Captain. It's good to be back up and moving again. We're about an hour and a half out from reaching a safe warp distance, and we can start plotting your desired course any time."
There is a pause, and the voice adds "Unless you or one of the officers would like the honors, sir. Things have been moved around a bit since you were last onboard, I believe. You can access most command functions from the banks on your level."
-
Roland shook his head as he said "The captain I'm not sure about, seems decent. The others..." Roland reached up to idly rub the cross that normally hung around his neck and realized he had forgotten it and let his hand drift down to his trace the pattern on his chest plate through the duster "...I don't know, haven't talked to any of 'em long enough."
He looked up at the ceiling before continuing to say "And there's nothing wrong with smoking, heck if I could get my hands on a good cigar I'd smoke one."
-
Locke heads on over next to the Captain as the others leave, taking a look at the list Snow handed him and glancing at it dismissively. "Hmmm...Wh#lp, lOoks al#ight wIth mE, cap'n. I'd ass#me Some aRe a bit more lucrat#ve thAn others, but that's si#pler than decidINg which one, I'd #uess." Taking his eyes away from the list, he reaches his gloved hand up to his throat, before smacking the microphone in the center of the ancient gaping wound a few times with his palm. Satisfied, he extends the same hand towards Hansen, his mouth just barely creased into a smile.
"Ahem. Hamilton Locke. Not sure if you'd read my file yet. Pleased ta meet ya, Captain Hansen." His voice is mildly clearer with this sentence, still a little crackly, but at least there's no static.
-
Charo says, "Can't hurt to head over there I suppose." he heads to the location.
-
(I'm assuming Collin is with Charo)
"Yeah, plus I'm fuckin' hungry" Grunted Collin.
-
Roland McCall & Camille Viau
"He's still pretty young. I'm guessing we'll be in for a little more high adventure than we were with his father." Snow withdraws the cigarettes again, and this time takes one out and lights it. "You want one of these? Qutting is a bitch. I got some advice from a real doc while we were in port, and he suggested that I always keep some on hand, but keep telling myself to put off having one for an hour every time I think about it."
She inhales, and coughs harshly for a moment. As she wipes her mouth, her vibrant, youthful appearance momentarily shifts to something approximating her true age. Her demeanor returns quickly, but for some reason, the whole display is more than a little awkward. "For how well that's working, I'm thinking I might as well have just let the Butcher chop me open like he offered."
The lift emits a beep, and the doors glide open, entering directly into the main medical bay. It's a fairly simple facility, sterile and brightly lit, and is mostly empty. There is an obviously dead crew member laying on a slab near the back of the room, his legs missing, and his skull opened up - it appears as though some terrible accident befell him, and his autopsy was abandoned mid-way. The only other person present is a young woman, who is either slightly dead or very soundly asleep on one of the examination tables. Her clothes are of a vaguely military style, and a small rank insignia denotes her as the ship's Sergeant At Arms. Thankfully, there is no sign of the Ship's Surgeon, affectionately known as the Butcher.
Snow give Roland an impish grin, then moves over to her, gently leans down, and yells commandingly into her ear. "WAKE UP VIAU! THAT UTA FUCK IS GONE!"
Charo and Collin
The corridor leading to the bar is so filthy that it seems to absorb the dim lighting being emitted from the lamps above you. You come to the entrance to the canteen, according to the note you were given. There's no markers denoting it as such, but the sounds of raucous laughter filtering through the poorly sealed entrance tell you you've probably got the right place.
The door pushes open with a harsh, grating sound, and immediately all conversations stop and all eyes turn towards Charo and Collin. They do not look particularly welcoming, and you notice a group of very large, very scarred men sitting in one corner talking quietly while motioning towards you.
Looking around the "bar" does not give you hopes for good drinks and fine cusine - a very, very old porno flickers in and out of existence on a heavily damaged display that occupies most of the far wall, and the room itself looks and smells like it might be a re-purposed fuel bunker. The serving counter itself is probably the most ornate thing in the whole room - it's covered with mostly unbroken mirrors, and a marginally more reliable display above it lists off the simple, utterly unhelpful menu.
Food:
- Corpse-Starch - 16 CR
- Meat Of The Day - 150 CR
- Greens Of The Day - 473 CR
Drinks:
- Booze - 10 CR
- Water - Free, see the bathroom attendant
"The fuck do you want?" The bartender grunts. "Don't officers have their own fancy fucking eatery on deck 17?"
The Bridge
Jupiter leaves the viewport as the ship completes it's turn and moves into open space. You can see the flashes of warp Gates firing as the Iliad slowly chugs out of the planet's gravitational well.
Mark moves to the command consoles and begins plotting the course to the Verin system. It's a fairly simple task - the co-ordinates are known, and he manages to find a route requiring only a few stops to re-adjust the Iliad's mass, estimating the arrival time as just a few days. Engrossed in his work, he does not notice the junior officer standing behind him until he calculations are complete.
"We're in position to make the jump, sir. Just give the word."
(I'm not gonna bother to detail this roll. It was more than good enough.)
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Camille stirs, slowly sitting up. "Ah, good. Thought he'd never leave. Did our new captain manage to not get us week-long patrols in empty space this time?" She yawns, blinking a few times to clear her vision. "McCall. I somehow doubt that a leg injury requires a Reverend, but your presence is appreciated."
Shuffling off the slab, Camille winces as she stands up. "I presume I need to talk to our new captain, then?"
-
Roland shook his head and said "No, I doubt a leg injury does require a reverend, though the poor kid on the table over there might need me for burial rights later. I just figured I'd check in here, figure most folk that end up here would rather see me then the Butcher. How is the leg doing by the way?"
-
"Hey, I don't like your fucking tone, were just lost." Said Collin, getting in his face.
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Charo puts an arm inbetween Collin and the bartender, he says, "Don't start anyfink, cap'n will 'ave our 'eads. We're here t' grab a bit 'a grub and leave, alright?"
-
Collin and Charo
The guy behind the bar slams two greasy, smudged glasses on the table in front of you, his eyes never leaving Collin's. "Well, what the fuck do you want?" He points up at the menu flickering on the display above him.
The porno on the display kicks back on just in time for one of the girls on the screen to let out a loud yelp as a pixellated, grainy shape has a go at her, and everyone jumps slightly. The tension, however, is broken, and most of the other patrons turn back to their previous conversations, filling the room with noise.
Over the din, you barely hear the grinding of the door closing, and Collin notices from the corner of his eye that the group of men who'd been plainly talking about you when you entered are no longer at their table, having moved over near the doorway.
(Not gonna bother rolling Collin's perception on this one)
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Charognarde had the "Meat of the Day","Th' grub's not half bad, reminds me of home t'be honest."" he looks at the group of men at the door, he speaks in a low voice to collin, "Cor, it's the cunts that were talkin' about us. They're blockin' the door."
-
"Ill just have some damn booze." He mumbles, also noticing the guys at the door. "Yeah, I see that." He said, trying to get a better look at them.
-
"I've had worse. Now if you'll excuse me, I'd rather get out of here and meet our current captain. Hopefully before the good doctor gets back." Camille says, giving a quick salute to Snow and McCall before heading up to the bridge.
-
Mark sat back into his chair before he gave the word, "Begin the jump."
-
Locke's hand slowly lowered as the captain sat back into his chair and gave the order for the jump. "Hm. Well. Alr#ght then." He grumbled, pacing a bit to the nearest console, which he began to lean on to wait out the little journey.
-
The Bridge
A shadow falls across the ship's command center as the massive slab of steel that acts as a blast shield slowly slides down over the viewport, blocking out the ambient light of the Solar system's star. From somewhere below you, several alarms begin, the klaxon ringing throughout the bridge for several seconds before being silenced by the crew as they make whatever adjustments had been required.
The blast shield locks in to place with a thud that is noticeable even through the meter of reinforced transparent alloy the comprises the viewport, and the ship itself seems as though it begins to vibrate with a barely audible hum. Suddenly, it feels as though something inside of you shudders, the hum stops, and for a moment, you are filled with a vague, intangible sense of loss.
A beep sounds to the right of the Captain's chair, and the displays monitoring the engine levels increase astonishingly as plasma floods their reactors. Speed indicators skyrocket, indicating a velocity that seems almost absurd, before finally surrendering and simply displaying:
WARP
Camille and Roland
As Camille enters the lift, Snow turns to Roland. "We might as well go up too, I'm not any more excited for a conversation with..."
She is interrupted by a noticeable humming sound that suddenly pervades every corner of the room. "Aw, shit." she mutters, immediately sitting on the floor. Something inside your skull seems to snap, and you are filled with a dizzying sense of emptiness, which lasts for several seconds. It disappears as quickly as it came, and is replaced by a slight vibration that passes calmly through the deck beneath your feet.
Snow stands again, looking visibly uncomfortable, and launches into a long coughing fit. "I'm getting to old for this shit."
Collin and Charo
The bartender slides your plates into a bucket at the end of the counter unceremoniously, and turns to some petty task behind the counter, ignoring any further requests you might have, while you turn to inspect the men near the door.
They are absolutely coated in varying levels of filth and ugliness, but share several features: They are very large, covered in scars, and are staring at you with what cannot be mistaken for anything besides malicious intent. Collin immediately recognizes the scars as tribal style markings common among members of some of the multi-generational macrocannon crews found on ships like this. By their size and the number of markings, they are plainly veterans of several combats, something rare in a group of individuals where life expectancy while on active duty is usually measured in weeks. They do not appear to be armed, and it's a very safe bet that whatever weapons they do have will not likely include firearms, given that men of their standing are not generally entrusted with real weaponry.
Five of them begin to advance towards you. "You fucks come to the wrong bar," the man in front growls, "I think it's time we help you..."
He is cut-off by an ear-shattering buzz that bursts into the room. Behind you, the bartender yells out something that you can't quite make out. Before you can even consider reacting, the buzzing is replaced by a distinctly mechanical scream that reaches into your bowls and sets your brain on fire. This is replaced by a huge, overwhelming feeling of crushing despair that sweeps through you, making you nauseous. It leaves after a minute or two, being replaced with the inescapable feeling that something, some essential, human part of you, has been ripped out and taken with it. The bar shakes slightly, causing the plates and glasses spread around it to clatter about, before this too passes.
All over the room, the other patrons react poorly to this - a young man in the corner, plainly on his first interstellar trip, vomits violently before collapsing on the floor, and you think you can hear the bartender crying softly. Suddenly, "meat of the day" and some "booze" seem like even more poorly advised choices than they did previously.
The large, angry men in front of you don't seem to be affected quite as badly, being relatively used to the effects of the ship's mass modification drive, and they begin to regain their feet. If anything, they look even madder, rather than sick. "YOU STUPID FUCKS!" The leader stumbles forward towards you, and it's apparent that you only have seconds before all five are back in fighting form.
The Iliad
The ship is now at warp, and should arrive at the Verin System.
((Ok, so, right at this second, no one has much to do until Blitz and Wilson act - at least, nothing that requires me is planned. Talk to eachother, ask questions of Snow, poke around the rooms, whatever. Things will come back together in a bigger scheme after they post, and then I'll likely time skip the rest of the warp if no one has anything they want to do or see on the ship. Up to you guys.
BTW, I rolled willpower to see how you guys would deal with the transition, and suffice to say you should all make a conscious effort to not be anywhere near the warp drives whenever you go to warp. I am not going to apply the effects to whatever happens in the bar, simply because both our heroes in there would likely lose the potential fight if I did, and I want a relatively informational combat to happen so I can tweak my mechanics. Please check the OOC thread for a quick rundown on combat.))
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Roland nodded, readjusting his hat that had tilted itself on his head during the warp. "Son of a- err, I mean that was painful. You're not the only one getting too old for this." Roland started towards the lift as he continued "and you're right, neither of us are excited for a conversation with the captain and his friends. Though for my part it's 'cause some of the captains buddies remind me of some things I'd rather leave in the past and I don't know if he'll want a man of god on board, we tend to have some requirements of our bosses. But we gotta get this done so sooner than later right?"
-
Roland
Snow finishes coughing, a grins at Roland knowingly. "I was gonna say the Butcher, actually. I have no desire to know what sort of 'informational surgery' he's performing on the dead rating over there." She wipes her mouth, and points at the corpse near the far wall. "Not that I'm particularly certain about the men he brought with him either, between you and me. Guess I shouldn't judge too harshly, I wasn't too certain about you when the Captain's father signed you on either, and look how that turned out."
She smiled again, taking another cigarette from the pack before tossing it to Roland. "Nothing like a smoke after having your mass altered. Shall we?" She gestures to the door of the lift, indicating you should lead the way.
-
Roland caught the cigarette and started towards the lift. "The Butcher's a pleasant fellow I'm certain, that is when he's not working. And I can just imagine what was going through your head when someone came in saying they wanted to sign on as a chaplain, not very many of us walking around these days."
As he continued walking he smiled and shook his head "Who knows, maybe the new Captain will let me have a room to turn into an actual church, with the pews and the podium. That'd be better than preaching every Sunday in the Mess hall."
As the two entered the lift Roland sifted through his pockets and pulled out a match box. putting the cigarette between his teeth he struck the match and lifted it to the end of the cigarette to light it. Putting the match out Roland put it in the trash before hitting the button. Talking to himself in a low tone that he thought(wrongly) Snow wouldn't hear "Not that I deserve an actual church, not after what I did. Still chasing those old dreams I guess."
-
Locke shakes his head clear of the warp after the first few seconds go by, blinking his eyes rapidly and exuding a static-like groaning sound. "Fucking h#te that. Eve#y single time." He mumbles, too quiet for most of those near him to hear, before he turns to the nearest bridge member, his hands in his pockets. "Oi, you. Booze. Wh#re can # find it?" Locke inquires somewhat impolitely. After getting directions, he'll nod his head in thanks and start on his way there.
(Depending on how fast he gets there, might be able to give Wilson and Blitz a little backup.)
-
((You may or may not all end up there depending on what happens. In the meantime, did ya really think a member of the bridge crew would point you to the same shithole in the bowels of the ship that some random, officer-hating, bottom-deck bastard in a random corridor would?)
Locke
The directions are simple, concise, and clear, exactly what you would expect from a proper, ranking bridge officer. You have no problem locating the proper compartment, and are happy to discover it's only a short walk and a lift ride away. The lift ride is unremarkable, but the walk takes you through the ship's observation deck and hydroponic farms.
While the large observation viewports are covered by their blast shields while the ship is at warp, the farms are a rather impressive sight, and not something you've ever seen on a ship before. The compartment that houses them takes up a vast portion of the ship's uppermost center deck, and while the transparent alloy ceiling is sealed by a retractable chunk of adamantium of it's own, the sheer magnitude of the rows opon rows of life found there is stunning, surpassed only by the several hundred artificial suns suspended above them. It does not take an experienced botanist to know that enough is growing here to keep the crucial members of the crew fed indefinitely.
After passing through the farm, you find yourself in front of a brightly decorated hatch with a small, scrolling display above it that reads
Officer's Mess - Fine Food - Quality Drinks - Entertainment
Pushing the door open reveals a brightly lit room, relatively empty, but well decorated. It has a few recreational stations, as well as couches, a well stocked bar, and several robotic servers. A stage against the far wall indicates that it may even have the occasional live performance.
A very young man in a well-maintained security uniform notices you enter, and approaches you cautiously.
"This canteen is for officers only, not for you riffraff. There's at least a dozen other places on the ship for like likes of you. Leave, now." he stutters, plainly unsure of himself, or maybe of how effective the shockstick at his side would be against you.
Roland
"You've got that right. I figured religion was a feeble savior for the weak. I never understood how someone could go for it." Snow smiled softly, entering the lift. "You did a good job of changing my mind on that, Reverend."
She stops, and places her hand on his shoulder in a friendly manner. "You've done a lot of good here, even if you don't know it. Your message has helped a lot of us who didn't even know we needed it. You're too hard on yourself, my friend - sometimes bad shit is a part of life, and we've all done things in our pasts." Stubbing her smoke out on her shoe, she searches around for somewhere to place it for a moment, before realizing that the lift has no waste receptacle. She places it back in the pack instead.
"Anyway, if you want to ask the Captain, you have my support. I know a few places that could maybe be re-purposed - and there's enough of of us believers on board now that we don't fit too well into the existing space. Besides, it couldn't hurt to bring your message to the ratings - right now, I think some of them see your meetings as a privilege held only for the officers, and some of them could sure benefit from an introduction to morals. Pretty hard for them to partake when they aren't even allowed in the mess. Might try mentioning it to him as a virtually no-cost moral benefit." Snow coughs slightly, seemingly still recovering from the transition to warp. "Couldn't hurt to secure your own position on the ship either. I knew the Captain pretty well when he was just Mark, but I don't know how he feels about having a chaplain on board these days."
-
By the end of the young man's sentence, Locke's almost visibly glowering with rage, his eyes taking on a far-off, almost demonic look, and his breathing clearly visible in the puffed movements of his chest, along with the static-filled, electronic noises emitting from his throat-microphone. "OfficeR Locke, seCurity d#tail, boY. W#tch your tOngue, oR h#ve it reMoved." Locke says, a bit slowly, his voice seeming to rise and fall with more frequency when he's pissed. "But noW thAt you men#ion it, I've no d#siRe to dine with stUck-uP, rEar-echelon swine s#ch as these. PoInt m# in the direction of sOMething m#re....SIMPLE."
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"You fucks wanna fight!?" Yelled Collin. "Well come at me! He said, smashing his bottle on the table.
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"God dammit. Yah wankers are pissin' me off..." Charo draws his ice axe from his belt, but doesn't get up.
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Camille leans against the side of the lift, waiting for the short bout of post-warp dizziness to finish. "No matter how many times we warp, it still gets me. Urgh.". She groans, reaching the bridge.
Appraching the captain's chair, Camille clears her throat. "Sir? Camille Viau. I'm your chief of security."
-
Mark spun around in his chair slowly, his right leg on top of the other. His head was propped up on his right hand as he looked over his Chief of Security.
"Good evening Camille, it has been awhile since I've had the pleasure of speaking with you. Did you require something from me?"
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"I just thought I should introduce mysel, sir. I don't suppose I could request to view the files of the crew members that boarded with you?"
-
"Hmm...? I thought you already had access to that information at your desk terminal. Ah well, you more than free to take a look yourself."
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Roland said "You're right, of course you usually are."
The lift stopped and Roland stepped out and walked toward the bridge. Walking through the doorway he moved so that the captain was aware of he was there and waited for him and Camille to finish their conversation.
-
"Well, our chaplain appears to want to talk to you, so I'll get back to my station." Camille salutes the new captain and heads to her quarters to both collect her gear and examine the new crewmember's files.
-
"And so, here you are Roland. Please state your business quickly for I have something important to do." Mark said, a slight scowl replacing the ambivalent demeanor he usually kept up.
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Roland stepped forward slightly so he wouldn't need to yell and said "Sorry to inconvenience you Captain, just had a simple request to make. I'd like to turn one of the unused rooms in the ship to make an actual church instead of just preaching in the Mess. It'll let the rest of the crew come instead of just the officers. At the very least it'll improve morale."
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"No I'm afraid we can't spare the resources, manpower, or energy in this endeavor. And I'd rather appreciate it if you'd stop preaching to my officers in the mess hall. Now if you'll excuse me I have an appointment that is long over due. And with that curt mini-speech, Mark would leave the bridge and finally proceed to the Captain's quarters.
-
Roland waited as the Captain left and then looked at Snow "Well, that went about as well as I should have expected. Guess the kid doesn't care what his father gave me the okay to do." Walking towards the door to the lift he continued "I'll talk to you later Snow, I've got some things to take care of and chief among them is letting the boys know I can't preach in the Mess. I'll just preach out of my damned room for now."
Entering the lift he pressed a button and waited. He put out the cigarette in his mouth and put it in his pocket to throw away later as he thought: Kid's new, maybe take some time but I ought to be able to figure something out, maybe find some place the crew can gather that's not an officer only area. Though I get the feeling the kid don't like me cause I'm religious.
Walking out of the lift he saw one of the officers that always attended his sermons and walked over. "Captains orders, I can't preach in the mess anymore. For now I'll preach out of my room until I figure something out, so do me a favor and let the rest of the officers know if'n you don't mind.
-
Collin and Charo
Seeing you draw your weapons does little to phase the man advancing on you, and he pulls a rather large wrench from somewhere inside his clothing. Behind him, the rest of the group has regained their feet, and produced similarly dangerous looking implements.
The conversation in the rest of the bar has stopped again, and all eyes have turned on you. Several men appear to be ready to join in the impending fight, though on which side is not completely clear to you.
The only person who doesn't appear to be interested in the events is the barman, who has recovered from the warp jump. Though his eyes widened slightly at the escalation of events caused by the introduction of potentially deadly tools, his overall expression is one of casual annoyance. Rather than react, he simply reaches over and hits a large button behind the bar with a closed hand, before leaning down on the counter.
The lead man is now within striking distance, and the rest are close behind.
((COMBAT! You guys go first. There's a small post on the OOC about how this should go in terms of mechanics.))
Camille
You have only just arrived at the entrance to your quarters when your personal comms device emits a beep.
"Chief, it looks like we have some minor issues in one of the scum pits on deck 74. Don't know exactly what's going on there, but it's not often one of those assholes actually bothers to call issues to our attention rather than dealing with it themselves - might actually be serious. I've already sent out an alert, but we don't have any personnel conveniently close by."
The Bridge
Snow is a little surprised by the Captain's tone, and after watching the Reverend leave in the primary lift, obviously dejected, she follows after the Captain. She catches up quickly, just as the secondary lift's doors begin to close, and slips between them with surprising agility.
"Captain," she begins, before being cut off by a buzzing over the lift's comm systems.
"Sir, I'm sorry to bother you, but we have a security alert on deck 74, compartment 124. It's likely minor, and I've alerted the Sergeant at Arms, but I thought you might like to be informed."
Locke
The trooper looks visibly intimidated by your discontent. "I'm sorry sir, but my crew manifest hasn't been updated yet. Let me check your credentials with my superior." he stutters, and reaches down to activate his personal comm. Before he can do so, it emits a beep, followed by a mechanical voice. "Security alert, deck 74, compartment 124. Available hands, please respond."
The look of concern on his face grows, and he seems utterly uncertain what to do with this information.
-
Collin lunges at the lead man and makes a stab at his chest.
-
Roland
The officer looks mildly surprised at this. "Is everything ok Reverend? I thought we'd been given use of the mess by the previous Captain Hansen?"
-
"What is it Snow? Are you here for an explanation on why I treated the Reverend so?" He said as he proceeded to the Captain's quarters. He wouldn't mind Snow following him to his destination as long as she stopped at the doorway to his office.
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"We had the go ahead from him yes, his kid just told me not to preach to you boys in the mess. I'll figure some place we can meet, but for now it'll have to be my room. If you got an issue with it you know who you'd have to talk to." Roland said, shaking his head as he thought about where he could host a proper sermon.
-
Locke groans loudly at the comm's mechanical voice reporting a disturbance in some area of the ship. Seriously, he'd been on board what, a few hours? This ship wasn't exactly in tiptop shape, apparently. "Ugh. FUcking U#seless. Y##, come wi## mE. You'Re gonna gui#e me th#ough this mess of a SH#p, and thEn sTand b#ck whIle I settle it." He grunts, pointing the kid to the door with a look of dangerous urgency in his eyes.
-
Sighing, Camille grabs her vest and revolver, making sure to keep it unloaded, and heads down to the bar, not really going faster than a jogging pace.
-
Charognarde activates the helmet, the suit hisses and spurts a bit of steam. He puts away his ice axe, he grabs his plasma cutter instead, he walks toward one of the men behind him. He wacks him over the head with the turned off cutter. "Take them down, but not out. Don't fockin' kill them."
-
Mark Hansen
"Partially. He's a good man, sir, and what he's doing has no drawbacks. There are a lot of us on-board who would appreciate a space for our worship." Snow looked a little uncomfortable to be having the conversation.
"I also thought you might have some trouble opening the captain's office up. It's been sealed for some time - short of just cutting it open, we can't seem to get in there."
Roland
A scowl crosses the officer's face. "That's fucking dumb, if you'll pardon my language Rev. We've always had a right to worship on this ship, and he thinks just cause he's in the big-boy chair now that he can deny that?" The officer shakes his head, plainly irritated. "I'll pass the message on. Maybe one of the other guys will have some ideas as to where we can meet."
Locke
((25 (charm) + 10 (scary dude who is possibly an officer) + 10 (maybe I should go) - 15 (but I shouldn't abandon my post) = 30, roll 18))
The youth seems to hold some kind of internal debate for a moment, before pulling out his comm. "This is 17. I'm on route to the situation with one of the Captain's men." his voice is a little uncertain as he speaks. He puts the comm back on his belt, exchanging it for the shockstick hanging next to it. "Let's go, sir."
The Bar Fight
Collin
(I'm not gonna list the modifiers and shit, just narrate it if you hit or miss. For the record, this is all rolled for, and you've both hit well and done the most possible damage a bottle will do.)
You lunge forward just as the man stumbles slightly, and the razor sharp edges of your bottle catch him in the stomach, well below the protection of his ribs. He lets out a disgusting, wet sound, and drops to the ground trying to hold his guts in.
Charo
Your swing is well aimed, and you manage to keep the plasma cutter from hitting your target hard enough to avoid breaking his neck. There is, however, a sharp, resounding crack that echoes through the room as his skull fractures. You aren't sure if he's dead or not, but he's certainly down for the count.
Mooks
The other three move towards you, two of them advancing on Collin, and the third on Charo. Both of Collin's opponents are armed with crude knives, while the man facing Charo has a shockstick that looks suspiciously like it came from a security officer's belt at some point.
Charo's man closes the distance first, swinging the stick as if it were a club. The arcing electricity casts an impressive array of shadows across the room, and they dance menacingly towards you as the shockstick comes down. Fortunately, the crewman is still a little off balance from the warp jump, and the blow misses you completely, connecting instead with the bar behind you and igniting it in a shower of sparks.
Milliseconds later, the other two are on top of Collin. One directs a stabbing thrust at his neck, which manages to instead catch the collar of his thick armour and deflect away harmlessly. The other makes a broad slash, catching him across the chest with similar results.
The Rest Of Them
The barman, no longer standing there looking bored, leaps back from the igniting counter, and quickly scampers off into the corridor, screaming about the fire. The rest of the bar erupts in panic and motion as it fills with smoke, and you can hear shouts and rapid footsteps and they rush around the room. Through the choking grey haze, you can make out several more shapes coming towards you.
((Because it's a big ship, I have no updates for anyone coming to the bar to help until a couple combat rounds have passed. If you wanna talk about things you see on the way, chat with your company, or do whatever else you were doing, feel free))
-
Roland reached a hand out and placed it on the officer's shoulder. "He just doesn't want me to preach in the mess, probably because I'm not officially an officer, he did not say we couldn't worship. And remember James One, verses nineteen and twenty: 19 My dear brothers and sisters, take note of this: Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry, 20 because human anger does not produce the righteousness that God desires. We'll be fine, just pray for now and we'll keep an eye out for some place to worship."
-
"C'mon you bloody wankers, hit me! HIT ME!" Charo shouts with his arms open, he's grinning under his helmet. He waits for one of them to hit him, he wacks them after he gets hit.
-
Locke's mouth widens into a grin as the trooper makes his decision, revealing many of his teeth to be missing, replaced with crude steel replicas. "Go#d mAn. Let'S g#t to it." There's a hint of excitement in his voice as he shoulders his coat tighter, before turning 'round and starting quickly down the hall with huge, lumbering steps, hopefully with the youth ahead of him, guiding the way to wherever things're going down.
-
(I don't wear my armor in crouded spaces likes bars, but oh well :/)
Collin thows the two off of him and kicks one in the shin.
-
"Perhaps it is doing no harm now but the potential is there, in the future. As he gains more followers aboard this ship his power and influence grows respectfully. Maybe he is as kind as you say he is but if he had more followers than I had loyalist and I did something to slight him? Well it wouldn't be much better than medieval Europe at that point where the church had authority over the crown." He would say as he pulled his father's old journal out from his jacket pocket.
"He's even touched you Snow. I remember your calm and poise being the anchor to my father but now... what did he say to you to make you act this way?"
He would then open the journal and begin reading it.
-
Roland
"I'll try to remember the Good Word, sir. But I don't think I'll be the only one unhappy about this. Let us know when our next meeting is, please, and if you find some space." The officer moves off to spread the news, leaving you to your thoughts.
Captain Hansen
"Well sir, I don't have your grasp of Terran pre-historic myth, so I'm afraid the reference is lost on me. I do understand what you are saying, though, and I can only advise you against this course of action as your faithful servant - I will of course deffer to your knowledge and experience as the Captain of this ship." She turns to leave, but stops.
"And if I may speak liberally sir, he has said nothing to spur this conversation. It is something that it is important to me personally, as well as to many of the officers." She walks away, leaving you to the journal.
A quick skim of the contents reveals that the journal itself is very similar to the ship's logs - mostly, it documents the vessel's recent travels and the former Captain's personal take on those and shipboard events. While there might be some further writing of interest in it that would be revealed on a more indepth inspection, there is a section towards the end that immediately catches your attention. It follows several torn out pages, and the date previous to them indicates it was likely written around the time your father's health first started to fail.
(https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uJKLfDeiPMs/V-wo4YZUeCI/AAAAAAAAAO0/rVqTMTyfOgU0sHOrAVFr3fhu8qftJ49EACLcB/s1600/note1.jpg)
Noticeably lacking is the password to the Captain's study. Apparently your father did not want anyone else to potentially access the room in the case of the Journal not making it to you.
Besides this, you also noticed a list of seemingly unrelated co-ordinates written on the inside of the book's front cover. It's likely that more information on them is included in the ship's logs, but they had apparently escaped Snow's attention when she compiled her list as they are rather old. They could possibly be worth running through the ship's computer when you have the time.
Locke
You make your way into the underbelly of the ship. As you step off the lift and on to the deck where the compartment is located, you are assaulted by the sounds of a fairly large brawl and the acrid smell of smoke.
The security officer quickly pulls the comm of his belt. "This is 17. It looks like we might have a fire on our hands down here. Requesting activation of non-lethal automatic suppression and a firecrew."
As you round a corner, you come across a group of men standing around a fallen security officer. They are delivering some truly savage blows to him, and from the lack of any effort on his part to defend himself, he's either dead or severely hurt.
The comm of the young officer next to you beeps, and a voice is broadcast through the hall confirming the fire suppression system's activation. Several of the men in front of you hear it, and turn to face you.
"There's more of the fuckers!" one of them exclaims, "Let's get 'em boys!"
((Your turn first))
Camille
You step out of the lift seconds after a call for fire suppression sounds from your comm. This side of the hallway is choked with smoke, and you can make out four shapes shapes ahead of you yelling and cursing as they kick at something on the ground. It would appear that none of them have noticed you and that you have the drop on them.
((You go first and have a Surprise! modifier))
Collin and Charo
((@Blitz: Noted for the future, though in this case it has maybe saved your ass. On the flipside, I did assume you weren't wearing your helmet, so any hit will be on your head and will possibly kill you.))
Charo shouts out his challenge, and is promptly obliged by the man with the shockstick. He lunges forward again, but Charo sidesteps the blow, swinging his plasma cutter around in response. It connects very solidly with his assailant's shoulder, and the man cries out in pain as it dislocates. He takes a few steps back, and then prepares to renew his attack.
Collin attempts to push his attackers away, his suit straining to augment his strength. He manages to move them enough to drive a kick at one of their shins, but this misses and instead merely causes the attacker to stumble slightly as he charges forward again and trips on your foot.
Mooks
Three more men emerge from the smoke, one carrying a heavy looking bar stool, and the other two armed with tools. The improvised weapons don't appear overly threatening. The move forward, and appear to be deciding which one of you to attack.
Both men already within arms reach of Collin make stabs at his exposed face, one coming no where near connecting, and the other whistling uncomfortable close past his eye as he leans back out of the way.
The Rest Of Them
Smoke has now completely filled the room, and the fire has spread to the shelving behind the counter. For anyone without a filter mask of some kind, it's becoming more difficult to breath.
From the sounds coming through the choking haze, it would appear that several other fights have broken out amongst the other patrons as they rush to escape. The room is suddenly bathed in a harsh red light, and a rain of fire suppressing foam gushes from an emitter in the ceiling, coating anyone in the bar itself and making the floor rather slick.
-
Roland moved to his room as he thought about what he would do. Walking through the door he sat down in front of his desk and idly tapped the metal surface for a time before picking up a pen and writing down a few notes that mostly pertained to sermons before sighing.
How many years of my life have I lived on this ship? I can't remember really, been so long. Am I really serving the Lord here?
Roland opened the desk drawer and picked up the old wooden cross necklace that he usually wore and ran his fingers over the rough wood. The cross had belonged to his father and now it rested in the hands of the son.
Standing Roland went to let those who listened to his sermons know he'd hold a meeting today.
-
Collin decided to barrel through the nearest guide, Running as fast as he could in his armor in the small space,
-
Locke's face contorts into a mask of unbridled rage as he spies the men beating on a defenseless officer. Grunts should know when they're in the presence of their betters, after all. "YOu b#ys have fUcked Up real b#d, I'll tEll you thAt." He hisses, his voice lowering 'till it's almost a vibration formed into rudimentary words.
He remains standing in the position he entered in, one hand swinging behind him, giving the young officer a silent warning to stay back for now, before both arms relax to his sides. Locke waits for the men to charge, and once they're within range, he explodes into action, his enormous arm scything through the air and using the first opponent's momentum, along with Locke's own superior reach, to smash his fist into the first man's jaw hard enough to reduce the bone to powder.
-
Charo finally decides that these wastrels aren't worth the time and turns on the plasma cutter, he slashes at the one with the stun baton. He's aiming for the lower abdomen.
-
Drawing her revolver, Camille quietly loads it, brings it up and aims at the four people. "Halt! Hands up, on the ground!"
-
Roland
You bump into several of your flock as you walk, and their general response to the news of your newly found lack of meeting area is a mixture of disappointment and outright anger. Much as with the first officer you spoke with, you try to calm the latter, and empathize fully with the former, and your words do seem to have a pacifying effect on all of them.
The majority of your regular congregation, however, is nowhere to be found. Several of their bunkmates indicates that their co-occupant left for the observation deck, mentioning something about having to attend a meeting there. After short trip through the halls, you come across the indicated compartment. Several loud voices can be heard through the sealed doorway, and it appears as though some kind of argument is taking place, though you can't make out the details.
Collin
You rampage over top of the fallen man, and he rolls with surprising agility to avoid being crushed under the weight of your suit. The other man nearest to you leaps back, as do two of the three newcomers. The man with the barstool, however, foolishly decides to stand his ground, swinging at you as you come. The stool shatters harmlessly against the side of your body, and your armour connects with him in a sickening crunch as several of his ribs shatter.
Charo
Flicking on your plasma cutter fills the room with a eerie blue-green glow that quickly overpowers the flickering orange cast off by the dwindling flames. You don't know if the man in front of you recognizes the tool or not, but either way, his eyes grow wide with terror, and his mouth opens as if to scream as you swing it towards him. You aim is a little higher than intended He raises one arm in front of his face, and attempts to bring the shockstick up, as if to parry your slash, but it's a futile gesture - the arcing plasma slices through it with no effort, continuing through his arm behind it. The stick explodes in a shower of sparks, and the arm hits the deck with a wet thud, followed shortly by the man as he attempts to stem his bloodloss with his remaining hand.
Mooks in the Bar
The smoke has begun to abate slightly as the fire suppressors do their job. The two men who were about to join the fray, upon seeing a charging, power armored beast on one side, and a maniac with a truely terrifying plasma cutter on the other, suddenly seem to reconsider their action and instead run out into the hallway.
Locke and the Security Guy
The lead man lets out a bellow as he charges you, and you bring your fist around in a well timed blow. Seeing this, he slows down just enough to lessen the impact, and rather than your mighty swing turning his facial bones into powder, there is merely a sticky crunch as his jaw fractures and dislocates. His momentum, plus the added force being liberally applied to his head, causes him to fly past you and into the reach of the security officer behind you. The officer, looking utterly terrify, quickly jabs towards him with his shockstick, catching the belligerent man in the spine, and he collapses to the floor, writhing in pain.
Camille
All four men cease their battery of the shape on the floor and turn to face you. For a moment, it looks like they will comply, but then one of them takes several steps towards you. Spurred on by this, a second man runs at you, swinging his fist towards your face in a clumsy blow. The man who originally moved follows after him, while the other two stand still, waiting to see what happens before either hitting the deck or moving to attack.
((Suprise is lost, but because you caught them offguard, you get a second turn.))
Mooks facing Locke
Seeking to overwhelm you, all four remaining men rush you. The first to reach you, armed with a piece of pipe, makes an awkward swing that you easily sidestep, and continues past you, preparing to take a strike at the security officer.
The second one aims a kick at the back of your leg, catching you offguard while you move to avoid the pipe, and manages to connect solidly. The force of the blow makes it through your duster, and pushes you slightly offbalance. Nothing feels broken, but it hurts, and you can guess you'll have a nasty bruise in the morning.
Before you can recover, the third swings at you with some kind of makeshift knife. He catches you in the side, and you can feel a sharp prick as the blade manages to slip through your armor. Without having to inspect it, you can guess it's merely a flesh wound, but it certainly stings.
Finally, the fourth man makes it to you, swinging at you with an intact bottle, but you have regained your balance and easily avoid his blow.
The Hallway
Two men emerge from the compartment, their faces twisted into looks of sheer terror. The stop dead in their tracks upon seeing the events playing out in the hall, before deciding to take the less intimidating path of escape - they run towards Camille.
((So, just as a note here, remember that you guys can do two things each turn. This can be attack-attack, attack-dodge, move-attack, etc. etc.))
-
Seeing that the the coordinates from the journal is his only leads to opening his office, Mark will head back to his nav-computer and see where these coordinates lead to.
-
Mark
((40 (INT) = rolled 80. I was not expecting such failure.))
Plugging the co-ordinates into the nav-computer, and cross referencing them with the ship's logs is both revealing and frustrating. Five of them are directly related to deliveries made by the ship as a Condition of Warrant - namely of bulk amounts of UTA standard issue water purifiers to new colonies and recently reclaimed worlds. You jot down the names next to each listing in the journal, but there appears to be no obvious pattern or importance to them.
The sixth co-ordinates have not been visited by the ship, but the nav-computer denotes them as the location of a UTA factory world called Utis. It also mentions that the system containing the planet is listed as restricted access, and a variety of penalties that can be applied to anyone entering without authorization. Searching Utis in the general computer banks reveals very little further information - it's listed as mostly producing fairly mundane supplies of varying descriptions.
The seventh and final set is a bit of a puzzle. The ship's logs say nothing about them, and the nav-computer has no record of anything of note existing there. Similarly, they do not warrant an entry into the ship's general database. A bit of calculating coupled with a rough guess based on your knowledge of star charts puts them somewhere near the Solar system.
-
Collin decided to elbow drop the guy on the floor.
-
Rubbing the wooden cross again Roland wondered what was going on. Shaking his head as he pushed through the door to see what was being argued about.
((I mean, not much else to write for this one.))
-
((No worries. Works fine!))
Roland
You push open the door, and quietly enter the room. No one seems to notice you for several moments, and it becomes very obvious that the officers are talking about what to do in regards to the new attitude towards their worship. There are enough of them the room, and they are all talking over eachother. It's difficult to tell who is saying what through all the noise and the dim lighting.
"We can't just petition the Captain! You don't think Master Snow and the Reverend haven't already tried that?" one of the louder voices speaks up.
"So, what are you suggesting then? Armed insurrection? Mutiny? Don't be an idiot." the reply comes from one of the women.
"We could just leave the ship. Most of us aren't here on indentured terms of service. There's other ships, and it's not like we'd have trouble finding work." the third voice comes from the far side of the room.
The debate continues for a while before someone notices you. "Reverend!" someone exclaims, and silence reigns as the whole group turns to face you. Some look slightly ashamed to be caught having this kind of discussion, while others smile as if expecting you to weigh in in favor of their arguments.
"What are we going to do about this new Captain's ridiculous restrictions?" asks a young female officer at the front of the group.
((Combat updates are gonna wait till more of you have posted. Helps me keep everything straight.))
-
Camille sidesteps the second guy's punch and places her hand on his face, shoving him to the side and firing at the first guy.
-
"How strange... without actually going there I have no way of knowing. Though perhaps..." Mark whispers to himself as he searches through the book to find another reference to the points lasted at the 7th Nav marker.
-
Roland walked slowly through the group as he looked over the crowd. As he reached the front he turned and began "First of all I seem to recall a verse telling us to 'render unto Caesar what is Caesars'. You live aboard this ship, you live under the laws of it, and the captain dictates that law. So while you live here you obey that law!" He nearly shouted the last part to get it through to these men and women.
Waiting a moment hoping that would sink in he then continued, quieter but still loud enough for everyone gathered to hear. "Now I am an old man. I've lived and served the Lord my whole life, as a child beside my father and now on my own. Over those years the Lord has guided me to and from where he needs me, and guided me through dark times that I have weathered only thanks to his grace. Now I believe he needs me to move somewhere else and find a new place to preach the word."
Beginning to pace as he continued to look at the crowd "I WAS going to tell all of you that later today but it seems you need to hear that now. I will be going and any who wish to come with me may follow."
He stopped for a moment and looked over the entirety of those gathered. He wondered if this was getting through to them as he finished "I however will not endorse the idiocy of a mutiny, or any form of action against the captain. If you have issues with him then speak with him, but to respond with violence to something such as this is simply not something the Lord, nor I, would approve of. YES, there is a place and time for violence but this is not the time. As I said I will be leaving when we make planet fall and anyone, officer or otherwise. I want you to make the rest of the crew aware of this."
((well hope this diffuses the situation... either way I doubt Roland will be on the ship for the aftermath if it doesn't))
-
Mark
((So, you critically failed reading the book. Way to be.))
A further investigation of the journal doesn't reveal anything more in regards to the seventh set of co-ordinates. Further more, you fail to see anything of interest in regards to the other nav-points either. If there is more information contained in there, it seems like you'll have to spend some dedicated time looking through the journal.
Roland
((Wild success))
The first part of your speech seems to calm the room as everyone listens to your words of wisdom. Shame crosses most faces, and you can tell that you've likely dissuaded any malicious thoughts towards the Captain for the time being.
The second part of your words seems to catch everyone offguard, and many in the crowd are plainly upset and saddened by them.
One of them moves forward - a junior engineering officer, who you know from previous encounters to be one of the few indentured officers on board. Though pressed service is common for the general crew, it is not amongst the officers, particularly on this ship. From what you recall, he is here in the place of one of his grandparents, who had incurred some debt to a previous Captain or the UTA, but were too infirm to deal with the rigors of space travel. Though he could have let them serve, and likely perish aboard, he stepped forward and volunteered to take their place, knowing the potential dangers and that he would be forced to sacrifice several years of his life in the service of the Iliad.
"Reverend... what about those of us who can't leave the ship? What are we to do without your spiritual guidance and encouragement?" his voice wavers slightly as he speaks. There are a few nods and quiet comments of agreement from the others in the group who are also serving fixed terms.
-
Having failed in both reading and navigation, Mark was in a bit of a slump. He also was feeling guilt over how he treated the Reverend, especially when Snow gave him a piece of her mind. He reconsidered the Reverends request and decided that perhaps he wasn't entirely in the wrong. With that going through his mind, he would set out to find him and apologize for his conduct earlier.
-
Roland put a hand on the man's shoulder and said "One of you will have to take my place, and there are no doubt a few of you capable of doing so."
Roland looked throughout the crowd as he continued "You think the Lord would leave you without a way to follow him? Even if no one can preach aboard this ship there is still prayer, the bible still exists and is available to you. Do you think He would leave you in the dark when he called me away? The Lord simply does not work that way, he may test your faith, put you in a situation where perhaps you may not see Him, but there is always a way, and He is always there."
He stepped toward the group and continued "I know there are some among you who know His teachings well enough to take my place when I must leave. Do you think I would leave without ensuring there was someone who could not only lead those of you officers who stay, but to bring the Lord to the rest of the crew?"
((Basically Roland is going to try and come up with someone to take over his position who he believes is capable of doing so.))
-
"That's right you cunts! Run! RUN!" Charo says while chuckling. He walks to the man with a missing hand, "Oi. Arse face, Care to explain why you decided to fockin' fight with us?"
-
Mark
You are unable to find the Reverend in either the mess, his quarters, or any of the nearby rooms. After some searching, you end up on the bridge, where you are informed that no one has seen him since your encounter with him earlier.
"Would you like me to request him over the comms, sir?" inquires one of the junior officers on the command deck.
Roland
The young officer looks like he wants to say more, but merely nods and steps back, finding a free space to stand in near the wall and standing there quietly.
There is some conversation among the others as to who would be a suitable, long term replacement, and it's generally agreed that whoever will take your spot should come from among the indentured officers - particularly from those with terms of over two years. Three candidates have the courage to make their willingness as volunteers known, though ultimately, everyone present trusts your judgement and will happily defer to your choices. You are aware that while a choice will need to be made shortly, they will also understand if you require some time to think on the matter.
The first to step forward is one of the largest, loudest men present. You know him well - Davis, one of the weapons control officers, stationed in one of the central control towers overlooking the enormous macrocannon batteries and responsible for issuing orders to the lesser officers on the decks below, who in turn drive the guncrews forward in the loading, firing, and general operation of the massive weapons. Loud, imposing, and fairly charismatic, he has often interrupted your sermons with many questions, usually intelligent. You know from having ministered to him for some time that he is more interested in the sections of the Good Book dealing with order, and has a particular fondness for the stories of the Old Testament, than for some of the later messages it teaches. Unlike most of the others, he has willingly entered into contract with the Iliad, for reasons unspecified, but generally assumed to be because there are very few other ways he could be in such an elevated position.
The second is a much smaller, slimmer man, who you recognize as Crixus, one of the senior security officers on the ship. He is generally quiet, and speaks in rather low tones, though each word you have ever heard him utter is usually a very calculated one - sharp as a dagger when required, and soft as a pillow when needed. Though he's not as outgoing as Davis, you do not doubt his speaking ability. He's also unique in a very particular way - he is one of the very few onboard the ship who had previous experience with religion, having been raised on a sparsely populated, but very religious frontier world near the rim of UTA space. While he has never spoken up publicly, he has come to you often in private, and you've spent a great deal of time debating the finer details of Christianity with him. These conversations have never been entirely unpleasant, but you feel safe in saying that whatever the teachings his home planet adheres to may be, they are certainly rather distinct from your take on the Bible. Though he has never specified his reason for servitude, the rumors that have passed near you indicate he committed some sort of crime while living at the Coraven mining facility and was pressed into service as punishment.
The third candidate comes as a bit of a surprise to you. It is a very meek and shy woman named Meegan, who only converted and began attending your sermons in the last year. Though she has never spoken to you directly about it, your understanding is that she is somehow involved with the ship's hydroponics operation as a very junior officer. Despite her unfamiliarity with scripture, and perhaps some trouble understanding the fundamental messages, she has always struck you as a kind, humble soul. Since converting, she has attended every meeting diligently, and while your few conversations with her have left you feeling as though she is likely one of the least intelligent officers aboard, and with the impression often can not express herself well enough to make her voice heard, she is generally a genuine and well meaning person. The only real enigma about her is why she is present - from what she has told you, she was sold into service on the ship, which, while not unusual among the ratings, is literally unheard of in the officer corps. You can't help but think there is more to that story besides her simple interpretation.
The rest of the officers present either mill about, talking to eachother about the present events, or leave the room, likely to return to otherwise neglected duties.
((combat post after Forrest updates so I can keep you guys all lumped together))
-
Roland looked over the three before saying "I'll need some time to pray about this decision but I will make my decision soon. For now I suggest we all get back to work."
As Roland started to walk he motioned for the junior engineering officer to follow him.
-
Roland
The assembly dissipates, many returning to their duties, some to their quarters, and a sizable number move to the mess hall.
The engineer lingers until the room empties, before approaching you. "Yes, Reverend?"
-
Now, Locke was angry. And when he's mad, the only real way for him to calm down is to beat anyone pissing him off until they spend the next few weeks in the infirmary, or a few hours in the morgue.
Spinning on his heel, Locke slams his elbow backwards as hard as he can, hoping to catch the thug aiming for the young officer squarely in the back of the skull. Finished with this maneuver, he turns back to the others fiercely, stepping forward on his left foot and hurtling his head forwards, aiming to smash the arch of his skull, the most solid part of the human body, into the nose of the knife-wielding mook.
-
The Hallway
Locke
((Crit headbutt))
In a truly impressive display of martial prowess, you swing your elbow backwards, and, despite not really being able to see your target, you are rewarded with a solid thud as your arm connects with bone. There is a muffled grunt, and you hear the security officer's baton go off twice behind you. It's probably safe to assume another one of your assailants is down for the count.
You turn towards the guy with the knife, and watch as the malicious grin on his face turns to one of surprise at the speed which with you move. He raises his weapon as if to block a blow from your right fist, and steps forward to absorb some of the impact. Perhaps predictably, he does not expect you to ram your skull into his face, and the blow catches him HARD, probably harder than you intended. It stings a bit and for a moment your vision is filled with sparkling lights, but that's nothing compared to the damage it inflicts to his facial structure - there is a snapping of cartilage, then of bone, as you move his more prominent facial features back nearly a centimeter. He crumples.
Camille
The man adjusts for your movement, and delivers a solid punch to your jaw. That hurts, and you stagger slightly, your mouth filling with blood from a cut on the inside of your cheek. However, your years of experience in these sort of situations, as well as your training, both kick in, and you regain your composure just in time to drive 340 grains of "fuck you" through the face of your other attacker. He slides to a stop at your feet, very, very dead.
Mook Facing Locke
The last man standing on your end of the hallway strikes at you with a quick two-punch combo. You side step the first swing, moving back towards the wall, and manage to avoid the second swing as well. The thick steel bulkhead behind you, however, catches the full force of the blow, and a resounding clang rings through the corridor. It sounds painful.
Mooks facing Camille
The guy who just clocked you takes a few steps back to regain his balance, and prepares to come at you again, apparently ignorant of the enormous, ringing sound of the gunshot that just tore through the hallway.
The two other men, however, are apparently more aware of what's just happened, having been positioned excellently to watch the back of their friend's skull explode. One of them immediately drops to the floor, apparently deciding getting blown out an airlock is better than getting shot. The other simply stands there, looking stunned.
Of the two trying to escape, one seems to reconsider rushing towards your gun, and instead changes direction, moving towards Locke. The other is plainly too petrified by the events in the bar to rethink his course of action, and continues forward.
The Bar
Charo
While the man might have had some hidden motivation for attacking you, he's too far into shock to elucidate whatever it might have been. His eyes go glassy and stare off into the distance as the last of his blood pumps from his missing hand.
Collin
((To be honest, you had a "Lork roll" on this one and missed, but I wanted to write the following and it doesn't really matter in this fight))
Your target, gripping his ribs and grimacing with pain, attempts to roll out of the way. Were you not wearing a couple hundred pounds of power armour, it would likely be enough to cause your drop to be ineffective. You are, however, covered in a giant chunk of ceramics and steel alloy, so there is instead a strange popping sound as you come down on top of him. It's honestly a little gross, even to you, and you'll likely want to wash your armour off before attending any formal events.
Mooks
A massive gunshot rings out in the hallway, but both the remaining combatants are too far committed in their course of action to react. One directs a kick at Collin's head, which instead catches the collar of his power armour, and the other leaps on to his back, swinging his knife as he does. It deflects off the armour's shoulder pads, but he is well positioned for a follow up blow.
((Think I got you all))
-
Roland looked at the man, attempting to remember his name as he walked and said "Was there was something else you wanted to say? There's no need to remain quiet in this matter, everyone's voice is important."
-
Roland
The officer looks slightly embarassed. "It's nothing sir." He pauses, as if considering his words. "It's just that... I'm unsure if the others will be able to truly take your place. I know you've always taught to interpret the Bible in ways significant to each individual's own life experience, but I just... I don't know. I have a bad feeling about this, even more so than about us not being able to meet in the mess anymore."
-
Giving a quick glance at the man still running towards her, Camille decides to focus on the immediate threat (and definite combatant). Stepping towards him, she brings the revolver up and grabs his arm, bringing the grip down onto his face.
-
Roland nodded as they continued walking as he replied "You're right, I doubt anyone will have the same views as me, and it is not a decision to make lightly. However..." He dropped off as he pondered for a second "...however there may be a chance I stay. If the captain decides he doesn't mind my presence then I may stay and continue to teach. If he decides that I'm not welcome, well who am I to stay in a place who's authority actively wishes me gone? I also have another question for you, what is your opinion of the three who stepped forward?"
-
Roland
He is silent for a moment. "Honestly sir, I'm not sure what to make of them. I don't mean to speak badly of my fellow officers or to pass judgement on them, but I don't know who would be suitable. Davis is a speaker, and assertive, but I don't know if he would truly have the interests of the congregation at heart. Before you entered, he was one of the ones advocating some of the more extreme actions in regards to the Captain's wishes." The officer thinks for a while longer as you walk. "Meegan is very nice, but I'm not sure how much of the message she truly understands, and I don't know if she's strong enough to lead the group - I think the others might simply ignore her or push her to the side, even well-meaningly. I've never spoken to Crixus - he seems like an ok fellow, but there is something unquantifiable about him that makes me uncomfortable."
-
"Eugh, gross..." He said, flicking some blood toward the other combatants. (Yusssss..)
-
Pitiful. Absolutely disgraceful. These men-no, these boys, really thought they'd stand a chance? Hopefully they'd begin to see the errors of their ways. That is, if they lived long enough to see them.
As the final thug erroneously gives the bulkhead a good thrashing with his unprotected knuckles, Locke steps forward, lifting his heavy right leg up high into the air, and brings it down hard, the bottom of his boot aimed directly at the goon's left kneecap. The kneecap's a comparatively sensitive, fragile joint when pitted against a speeding downwards stomp, and if it hits squarely enough, it should snap the thug's leg like a twig.
-
Roland nodded as he continued walking and said "Thank you for being honest with me. Now I'm going to go to the bridge and inform the captain of my possible departure."
With that he began heading for the bridge.
-
Locke
As you stomp on the side of the man's knee, it does indeed snap with a sickly sound somewhat reminiscent of a nut's shell being stepped on. He screams as a sliver of bone appears from the side of his leg, almost as if by magic.
Camille
You pull the man towards you, interrupting his next blow, and your revolver connects with his face in a satisfying crunch. He wobbles backwards, before stumbling and landing against the wall in a slump. Your tactical assessment of the other rating turns out to be correct - he rushes past you, but is met by the shocksticks of a group of security officers as they come around the corner.
The smoke has mostly cleared, sucked away by the ship's ventilation systems and dispersed somewhere in the bowls of it's life support system. At the other end of the hallway, several more officers step out of the lift, taking a moment to survey the scene in front of them before moving forward to check on their beaten and motionless companion.
The Bridge
Roland steps out of the lift and on to the bridge just in time to hear a page come across the comms from one of the lower decks.
"Captain, this is security control. We... well, rather, your officers and the Chief got everything under control. We've got one dead sec officer down here, and a couple of the ratings bought it in the fight. Two more aren't gonna last long, and we're gonna need the Surgeon if we're gonna bother to patch the rest up." The comm crackles as he speaks, and you can hear screaming in the background. "SHUT HIM UP! Sorry sir. Usually the previous Captain would leave justice to the Chief, but anyone down here who can still talk blame a couple of the men you brought with you for the fight. Haven't talked to them yet, but seems just as likely the only thing they did wrong was walk into the wrong bar. I can't find anyone NOT involved to confirm either side's story. Thought you might want to know."
-
"For the love of Cthulhu... I'm tempted to just hang them all. Just let the Chief handle the punishments but remind her that I will not tolerate insubordination from my normal crew or my personal officers." Mark said as he slid back in his chair, a dull throb now accompanying his guilt.
-
Walking slowly Roland said "Well, sounds like more funerals. Back where I'm from those boys would be running for the nearest UTA controlled city for fear the family members would come after them. Granted these boys you brought with you don't look like the running type."
Roland moved so as that he and the captain could easily converse and continued "But I don't think that will be any concern of mine, for very long anyway. I figure me and you need to talk about something Captain."
-
"Mmm... yes I suppose we should. First off, I would like to apologize for my behavior, the unexpected death of my father burns me deeply and a Priest was the last person I wanted to hear from. Though after some consideration I suppose a small, out of the way monastery isn't... so... bad."
-
Locke leans forward from his stomp straight into a forward drive with his right fist, catching the man hard in his cheekbone and sending him flat on his back with a resounding crack. (I'm gonna assume such an action would be trivial, what with how fucked up that guy was.)
"AHA###HA#!" His laughing burst forth with that rather unpleasant, microphone-feedback esque undertone, as he turns from the freshly fallen man to the others, spitting on the leader scornfully. "And stAy d#wn, sWIne." He mutters, gesturing to his young sidekick. "C#ff thEm, if you w#uld."
-
Roland seemed a bit surprised as he responded "Whatever is open and you approve of, though I came here to inform you I was planning on leaving the ship when we next reached a planet. My presence seemed to disturb you so I thought I should move on. As I see it this is your ship, so if I my leaving would ease your mind in any way then I should do so."
-
"Leave or go, the ship will function. Though if you chose to leave you will take the entirety of your flock since zealots without a leader would cause too much strife and I'd probably have to gas all of them. Of course you are free to stay as well though you should thank Snow for my... change of heart on this."
-
"Zealots...last I heard that word used my father was berating one of his church goers. But in the case of my leaving there is a way for the crew that does believe to stay, or at least those who are still indentured crew. Several people could take my place as reverend. Of course that is if you'd allow that."
-
"Hm... I'm already on a kindness streak. Hm hmm, I'd rather they keep their faith private and not try to evangelize the remaining crew. But I suppose if they keep to themselves they can still keep the small broom closet church."
-
"While I think they will be satisfied with a small church I will make no promises that they won't spread their beliefs. Though I will make it clear that they are not to explicitly attempt to speak of it to others, and only to further explain when someone comes to them or the church. I think that covers everything, though I may be mistaken in that."
-
"Mmm mmm, yes yes I do believe. Oh a quick aside though: If you do end up deciding to leave, do you have a preference on the kind of planet you end up on? May I perhaps suggest Barnard's Star or something fun like a pleasure world?" Mark said as he quietly began to spin in his chair.
-
Roland thought about that for a second before saying "No need to go out of the way, I'm sure wherever I end up I'll be able to continue to do the Lords work. Now I think I ought to go back to my room and start planning how to inform the others of your decision." With that Roland left the captain to continue with his work.
-
Locke
((Yeah, you pretty much assumed right. Puny opponents like these aren't well equipped to deal with leg-snapping.))
"I... I don't think I really need to." the young man says, looking awestruck at your skillful display.
A squad of security officers pile out of the lift behind you as he speaks, and spread out, administering shocks to some of the fallen combatants, cuffing others, and checking their fallen comrade. It's pretty evident he's dead. Several of them enter the bar, and you can see flashes of blue light reflecting from the portal as they zap anyone still fighting inside into submission. Shortly, one of the officers emerges, and speaks into his comm. You can't hear what he's saying, but it seems likely he's reporting on the events. After a quick exchange, he places the comm back on his belt, and moves to the woman with the gun on the other side of the hallway.
Collin and Charo
The 'fight' is interrupted by a group of security officers who storm through the entrance. The stun any of your attackers who are still moving, and it looks as though they might have similar plans for you, but have second thoughts after a quick inspection of the carnage you've wrought. One of the men has a few quick words with each of the combatants, and it seems pretty evident that they're blaming you for their foolish aggression. He moves towards both of you, and says "Stay put. The Captain might have some questions for you." before pulling out his comm and leaving the room.
Camille
"Looks like a mess down here, Chief." the approaching officer comments. "We've got two of the Captain's new friends in the bar. The scum that can still talk insist they caused this. Captain's said to leave any investigation and the punishments up to you."
Roland
The trip to your quarters is short and quiet, and it seems like you will finally have a moment of peace to plan out your course of action.
Mark
Roland leaves you to your thoughts, and you relax as the ship hurtles through the silent void. Seems like you'll finally have some peace and quiet.
((Time skip after Camille posts. The rest of you can do whatever you like, though please try to make it something that will suck up more than an hour or a couple of minutes, since I'm sure you'd all like to get on to adventuring.))
-
"The Captain's boys? The hell are...?" Camille cuts herself off, facepalming. "Screw it, I'll decide what to do with them later, space the ratings involved."
-
Camille
The officer nods, and all the crew involved, including the dead, are rounded up and drug off to the nearest airlock.
Collin and Charo
The officer re-enters the room, having apparently consulted with his superior. "You guys are free to go. In the future, use the officer's mess. It's nicer than this shithole anyway." He gives you some quick directions, before pulling out his comm again and calling for the janitorial staff to clean up the mess Collin made.
((We're now at high warp. The trip will be roughly a week. Like I say, post what you like, but try to make it be "in a couple days" or, "for the next couple days" please. Update on the first nav point will likely come this evening, as I forgot to bring some potentially crucial stuff to work, and there may or may not be an OOC post on ship combat to look at first.))
-
Charo asks, "Where would that happen to be?". He unseals his suit and has the suit put the helmet off.
-
Charo
The officer gives you a puzzled look, before restating his directions. Unsurprisingly, they are to part of the ship much higher up, in the central spire.
-
"God, That was fucking stupid..." Collin said, sighing. "Charo, Want to get some actual food?"
-
"Oh, uh, sorry. Me ears are still buzzing from the foight. Didn't quoite 'ear you... Yeah, Collin, let's get some actual food." Charo starts to follow the directions.
-
Charo and Collin
You make your way to the officer's mess, which is thankfully exactly where the security man said it would be. This part of the ship is noticably cleaner, and the entrance to the mess itself is a charming, decorated hatch with a scrolling display above it.
Officer's Mess - Fine Food - Quality Drinks - Entertainment
A sign posted next to the door declares it to be off-limits to the regular crew, and that all patrons must check in with the doorman, but he is nowhere to be seen.
On entering, your ears are filled with the sounds of a live band. The singer is a rather attractive woman with a sultry voice, and she is entertaining a rather large crowd with some songs done in the style of Old Terran jazz.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S39BnYdGD6Q
Several of the patrons give you odd looks when you enter, casting some particularly appraising looks at Collin, his armour still covered in a thin paste of macrocannon crew, but they apparently accept that you belong there, and turn back to their food, drinks, and entertainment.
The food menu, displayed in crystal clarity above the bar, does not seem all that different than the one from the shithole you just left, but you have no doubts that the items such as "steak" and "pomegranates" are of less suspect origins or quality than your previous fare. No prices are listed - either the mess operates on a "if you have to ask, you can't afford it" basis, or food is free for officers.
The drink menu, however, is far more expansive, with everything from luxurious Tagerian soft drinks, to high quality alcohol.
Most of the seating is filled, but there are some empty spots at the bar itself, and several of the vast array of entertainment consoles are free. It appears the only available game at present is something called Bunker Command (http://utterlymad.smfnew2.com/index.php?action=arcade;sa=play;game=214).
This, by most standards, "is more like it".
((The ship will arrive at it's destination this evening.))
-
Collin leaves his armor at the entrance. He stretches. "Ah, this is more like it." (Also now Collin can have massive mood swings. :/)
-
With everything finally concluded, Mark will attempt to study his father's journal for the rest of the trip.
(Sorry for the short post)
-
Locke lets out a rumbling electronic laugh at the young guard's words, nodding as he watches the rabble-rousers get led on over to the airlock. "YoU're RIght a#out th#t one, bOy. All in A g##d day's wORk, I suppose. NOW th#n, I've got dr#nking to do, if you don't mInd me h#ading on back to your oRIginal p#st." He says with a conciliatory pat on his protege's back, turning dismissively to the assumed captain of the guard and her flunkies. "YoU lot c#n thAnk mE l#ter. Was just dOing m# part as A m#mber of this fIne sh#p." Locke shouts across to them, turning on his heel with a flip of his coat and heading on back to the officer's lounge.
Locke strolls through the door with a heap of confidence, seemingly bolstered after beating five men half to death before watching them get casually executed. He passes by two of the men he'd boarded with, giving them a brief, cursory salute and striding straight to the bar. "New YOrk sour #nd a stEAk, r#re, my frIend." He grunts in the politest manner he can muster, leaning against the bar lazily with his mammoth arms.
It's right to assume this'll mostly be where Locke hangs out for the entirety of the jump, drinking, eating, listening to jazz, and disturbing anyone within ten feet of him.
-
((Alright, now that I'm done being drunk, update time. Guessing no one checked out the posted ship combat rules. All good, we'll deal with that when we come to it.
For the sake of the non-combat possibilities here, here's a quick breakdown:
Most instrument related actives are based off of one or two skills. Directing the ship's fire, for example, uses BS, running the scanners uses Int or Per, whichever is higher or stated to be used, and will give different results. Commanding the crew to perform an action may use Cha, or something else depending on the action. Generally, these tests are representative of you directing something (such as directing fire with BS) rather than actually doing it yourself (such as firing the macrocannons directly). You guys will not find alot anywhere if you don't make use of the ship's systems, just as a heads up.
I will try to advise what stat counts for what action you want to take in the OOC thread, so that you guys can go into it with the best person(s) for the job.))
Mark
The journal is expansive, long, and mostly unexciting. Reading through the whole thing will take some time - you get a good start on it during the warp, but have yet to see anything of particular note regarding the co-ordinates.
The Illiad
The remainder of the journey is fairly uneventful, and you all spend the next week and a half taking it easy and learning your way around the ship.
Finally, you arrive at the Verin system. The engines cease firing, and within a few hours, the warp drive kicks in, returning the Illiad's mass back to normal. The slightly uncomfortable feeling that's been with you since the start of the jump finally abates, and the crew seems more rested and at ease. The ship drifts towards the system for two days, finally slowing to a stop at it's outskirts.
The Bridge
"Full stop, Captain!" Snow announces as the ship comes to rest. "Open the viewport."
At her command, one of the deck officers hits the port controls, and the enormous blast shield retracts. Visually, the Verin system is much as the ship's log described - a massive graveyard orbiting the light of a dead sun. While bits of planetary debris and chunks of wreckage float around you, the vast majority of the objects present surround the star in a wide orbit, a slow funeral procession making innumerable trips around it in the the void, and allowing only a haunting, spectral glint of blue-white light to pass through here and there.
"Passive scans don't show much." Snow comments, looking at a display on one of the consoles. "Actives might. From what I can tell, some of this stuff has been here for a long time - if any of it works, and we could find a way to get at it, there's gotta be a small fortune in salvage here." She enters a few commands, and the hololithic display tank begins rotating through an analysis of some of the nearest objects.
Some of the hulks drifting in the ring of ruins are fairly readily identifiable as relatively new UTA warships and merchants, but others are far too damaged to be recognizable. More interestingly, some of the ships that seem to pre-date the UTA, many of them not conforming to known designs in the Illiad's database. The one or two it can recognize indicate they've likely been floating here for hundreds, if not thousands of years before the UTA's inception.
(https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-csyi9MTMOCo/V_6c-RXDEBI/AAAAAAAAAPY/dOUkfyUU22wWzbRI9yKoW_ua8-JD6jNPwCLcB/s1600/verin_edited-2.jpg)
-
"A beautiful and yet terrifying image. Turn on the active sensors and bring us in closer to the field. I can only imagine what we may find scattered throughout this scrap-ring."
-
Locke had spent the last few days drinking, popping pills, and generally throwing his weight around the ship. Not in an overly irritating or menacing way, at least, but he was probably known by a good few people by now, despite the short amount of time he'd been onboard.
The final day of the Illiad's journey sees Locke at the bridge with the other officers, seated in a chair a bit too small for him semi-near to the captain. He looks a bit under the weather, thanks to the ungodly amount of cocktails, both in liquor and in narcotics, he's consumed since they'd began the warp, but despite his red eyes and lazy demeanor, his unconsciously flexing knuckles and the void-carbine slung over his back still meant business.
"We f#nally thEre th#n? AbOUt tIme, #'d say. B#tter be a pAyoff for hEAd#ng straight into th# mIddle of nOwh#re."