Players will dot here.
Dotting. Will work up an alias with the full character. Thank you, and am looking forward to this!
And here we are. Found a few mistakes and corrected them; everything should be good now.
Dotting this tab too.
Historia-7 looks up from her work as she sees four Starfinder agents come into her office. The room in fairly sparse, as is to be expected from an android, with little more than a desk, computer, and several chairs for visitors. She smiles slightly before saying , "Ah, you must be the agents that I requested. Thank you for coming. If you would take a seat, I can begin your briefing." Once the party is seated, Hisoria-7 begins talking once more, "We have just uncovered a very exciting prospect in the Diaspora." She pauses for a moment to turn her console toward you, revealing what appears to be a small spacecraft made from dark metal, its hull rent with great gashes and several windows shattered. She continues with an excitement none of you had thought possible from her, "This ship is unique for a variety of reasons. First, its design does not match that of any in the Pact Worlds or beyond. Second, records from the sarcesian's creche worlds seem to indicate that it has been in the diaspora since before the Gap. Now a pre-Gap space vessel from outside of the Pact Worlds has never been thought possible until now, and it may contain highly valuable data. Given that you are some of the most promising new members of the Starfinder society, I am extending this honor to you."
She gathers her thoughts for a moment before saying, "Your mission is simple. I need you, no, the Society needs you, to make your way to the spacecraft, explore it, and retrieve any data or artifacts that you might find. We will provide you with a spacecraft of your own at the Society docks. Now, do you have any questions?"
The dwarf-sized SRO accompanies the others into Historia-7’s office, garish bits of multi-hued clothing and fluorescent-painted armor decorating its carapace while weapons — some functional, most of them not — hang from various clips and hard points. A golden Jolly Roger is emblazoned on one shoulder while the Starfinder Society emblem is on the other.
It listens to the story of the vessel and, as the details emerge, its single photo-receptor first slices shut, then slowly dilates into an ever wider position as the glow within goes from a soft blue to vibrant orange. When she is done, the SRO’s hands clasp in front of it in a gesture of excitement.
A voice of indeterminate gender emenates from its vocal modulator, ”No better treasure to be taken than treasure that’s been abandoned... It’s surely doing nobody any good just sitting there. What kind of competition do we have? How did the Society learn of this vessel? Who else might know about it?”
Krizen walks in and sits on one of the chairs, sitting forward in interest. His appearance is clean; life among the Azlanti rubbed off enough that he considers a subdued set of clothing standard attire. There are indications of his chosen profession, however - a grease smear on the fur behind his right ear (out of sight of a quick glance in the mirror), several writing implements of various kinds poke out of a pocket, and his pants have been custom tailored to fit a data pad for ready access. He pulls the data pad out to take notes as Historia-7 begins.
A pre-Gap spacecraft, from an unknown world and time, eh? There are so many possibilities! Where to begin... As Krizen listens to the end of Historia-7's pitch, he knows he wants to be involved in this mission. He speaks up following S.E.T.: I think most of my questions could only be answered if you didn't need us to go track this ship down, so my only questions are really "When do we leave?" and "How fast is our ship?" Krizen is visibly energetic in anticipation, fully ready to charge out into the unknown to track down a newly discovered technology. Fortunately, he recognizes the validity of S.E.T.s questions and decides to wait for HIstoria-7's answers: The SRO raised some good points, even if they aren't what I care most about... Also, she hasn't given the docking coordinates for the ship yet. Guess I'll wait for everyone else (and the coordinates) before heading out.
Bravo Vizetelly follows the others in and takes a seat, his back straight and a neutral expression on his face. His outfit is much plainer than the others', camo that wouldn't look out of place in a Pact Worlds military base or security center. While he has left his rifle in storage, his sidearm is strapped to his side and a knife sheathed at his chest. Everything appears impeccably clean, even the clunky combat boots. He notes Krizen's own attire and recognizes the same attention to appearance and gives him a slight smile, one military man to another, before turning to pay attention to Historia-7's briefing.
When his turn comes to ask questions, he waits for the others to speak their piece before asking his own, his voice a deep, smooth baritone.
"Jet-jumping from S.E.T.'s question, is there any opposition aboard this ship that we're already aware of, or is this more of a "we're going in blind, be ready for anything" kind of mission? How damaged does the vessel appear? Should we expect working lights, gravity and air as we explore? Any weird radiation signatures to watch out for?"
Quitch’s whiskers twitch as he enters the room and again as he sits down in a chair. He removes his hood and it is clear his fur has been recently brushed. He takes out his comm and grins at Krizen who also is taking notes.
”Thank you, Hisoria-7 for this opportunity,” Quitch says after the others have spoken. ”I knew good fortune was in store after yesterday’s astrological calculations. My fellow starfinders ask many good questions. Mine are very similar to this fine human. If we can repair the engines, should we? I’m not an engineer, so I don’t know how much time it will take. Or even if it’d be possible.” He pauses to quickly read any of his companions’ reactions. ”And it’s in the Diaspora, you say. Odds of pirates or even an asteroid nation coming to claim it might be pretty high.”
Historia-7 nods, "We first learned of this ship from the leader of the Star Citadels, a group of miners having found it. He is a trustworthy source, having given us several good leads in the past. Nobody aside from us and the dwarves should know about this, but be prepared nonetheless. The Diaspora is a dangerous place. There is no known opposition, though there are not likely to be any living foes aboard. The vessel is badly damaged, though I could not say what you may encounter on board."
Krizen nods to himself slightly. As I thought - all of the knowledge I would like to know is still lost aboard the ship itself. After all, it's not like Historia-7's answers to the others' questions would change my decision to go... Krizen visibly tenses for a quick moment, before relaxing again - the greatest sign being his ears flicking back and then forward again. Well, if Historia-7 had mentioned that a certain Azlanti Senior Captain already had control of the vessel, I would probably think it over twice or thrice on the way to our transport...
Taking his attention from Historia-7 for a moment, Krizen looks over his fellow Starfinders. He feels an instant kinship with Bonar Vizetelly, born from the immediately obvious shared background in order. Regardless of how far behind Bonar his military history is, Krizen understands how to work with military order and precision - usually, anyways. The small Ysoki sitting on the chair also seems to be a kindred spirit - Krizen makes sure to note to himself that he should compare notes later on, to see where they differed in what they thought relevant. I will reserve judgement on the SRO for now... He's a bit too flamboyant for me, and all those useless weapons are a waste of energy to carry, but he wouldn't be here if he weren't capable. Unlike the Azlanti, the Gosclaw do not feel that androids, SROs, and other synthetic beings are a lower creature made for servitude - they take the approach that capabilities and observed behavior speak for the worthiness of the individual, and with the exception of the Eox (Krizen's fur ripples at the thought of that group...), Krizen doesn't hold too many species-wide opinions - even the Azlanti have some good in the mix, like Iorsten.
Krizen turns back to the debriefing. Thank you, Historia-7. I believe I am ready whenever my fellow travelers are - my bag is packed and my quarters ready to be turned over for the next in need of them.
Set's "eye" shifts from gold to yellow as it says to Quitch, "Pirates can be surprisingly reasonable given the proper motivation." It pauses, then adds with a metallic chuckle, "Usually."
It then glances at Krizen and Historia, raising a finger into the air as it says, "Quite ready, but, other than the access codes for the ship we will be borrowing, this one does have one last question. The matter of compensation. Is there to be a split on salvage rights, straight credit transfer, does the Society wish to receive only those records we can recover and we keep any tangible salvage... The latter seems ideal to this one but you may have a different understanding."
”I like the way this one thinks,” Quitch says, indicating the SRO. As he chuckles, his whiskers twitch.
”I just need to stop by my quarters and retrieve my backpack. I volunteer to be our pilot -- oh though if you’d rather we did this at the ship, it can wait,” the ysoki says to Hisoria-7.
Bravo raises an eyebrow at S.E.T.'s initial statement.
"Sounds like you're speaking from experience there."
When he follows it up with a discussion of monetary compensation, he rolls his eyes a little.
"Yeah, definitely speaking from experience," he replies dryly. "I'll have to grab my gear and my primary firearm, but that'll probably only take a few minutes. I travel light as a matter of course. I've got some piloting skill, but if any of you boys are better pilots, I'll leave the flying to you. I just hope there aren't any akatas on that ship. Saw those vids on the news about those Starfinders who cleared the Acreon and explored the Drift Rock. Those kids nearly got themselves killed a few times from their lack of preparations."
Historia-7 smiles and says somewhat wryly, ”Ah yes, compensation. The ultimate concern of many agents. You are to recover any objects of note, particularly anything that my contain data or be of historical significance. Salvage that you take will be reviewed by the Society for potential use, but if that is not found then you will be entitled ownership. Your ship is in bay 17 of the Society docks. I have notified the staff there of your mission, so there should not be any issues. If that is all, I look forward to your results, and please do try not to get yourselves killed out there.”
"They won't with me around," Bravo replies with a smirk.
He stands up, gives a small salute to Historia-7, more out of habit than anything else.
"Alright boys! Grab your gear and suit up. We're moving out."
He does as he said he would, recovering his rifle from the armory and his backpack from the dormitory he'd been utilizing until he had enough credits for his own place. While there WAS the Society's deal with the Moons of Sleep hotel, Bonar lacked a steady line of credit at the moment with his tour of duty over and the Society not really offering salaried positions. Maybe in the future, he'd allow himself that luxury, but for now, duty called.
He arrives at Docking Bay 17 packed and ready, and greets the others as they return.
"Alright, now let's get ship roles assigned so we know what to do should things get hairy. I've got some basic skill at piloting, but like I said in the briefing, if you've got more skill than I do, the driver's seat's yours. Not really good with electronics or leadership skills, I'm more of a planetside grunt, so barring any unusual circumstances I'll probably be manning a gun, but I can fill in anywhere I'm needed."
Krizen grins at Bravo's statement. Alright Guns, I can cover the electronics. Just give me a few minutes to acquaint myself and I'll have her singing and dancing to whatever tune you like!
Krizen is wearing his pack, his sidearm holstered at his hip. His backpack is well-packed, nothing bulging out or hanging loose - experience crawling through ships corridors and vents has taught him that it is better to take the time to streamline the exterior of anything you carry in space.
His ears are perked up with excitement, and he's visibly bouncing on his heels in anticipation, looking around for any official-looking personage. Can we go in? Are we cleared for access?
”Ah, a post hoc determination of ownership based on need. Admirable, surely, but perhaps we could...” The SRO seems inclined to further negotiate and refine the terms of the deal when everyone else begins packing up and leaving. It heaves a great mechanical sigh, then stands and follows. ”Organics...”
It notices a couple of the others grab backpacks and realizes this is the one thing it doesn’t have. Foolish robot. Of course you need a backpack! How else shall you carry your booty? Captain Lucky would be soooooorely disappointed. It stops to buy a serviceable backpack and joins the others at Docking Bay 17.
”The assignment of responsibilities. Yes. Very orderly. On a small craft suitable for a crew of this size, this one can do...” It taps its head with a single finger before the iris of its optic sensor cycles shut and open, now revealing a greenish hue, ”Well, anything! The gift of adaptable circuitry, thank the Maker. This one is particularly skilled at flying small craft and exploding other small craft with artificially accelerated projectiles of matter and light, but could interface adequately with the ship’s systems if none of you are suitably capable.”
The ship is Model 3 Starglide light freighter made by the now-defunct Yuban Astroworks, the words Pipe Dream written in what once must’ve been a jaunty yellow cutting a contrast to it’s greyish, somewhat sleek frame. Several patches of rust and solar flare burns creep up the bottom and parts of the thrusters. Several weapons jut out of its sides and front, clearly installed to fit with the aesthetic, though only doing an adequate job of it. The dock personell that showed the party to the ship nods, ”Sure don’t make ‘em like they used to, thank Triune. Any case, this is what we could spare for ya’. You’re all set for access. Door opens with this doohickey.” The man holds up a silvery remote and presses a button with an icon of a door on it. A rounded door in the side slides open and a ramp slowly descends, stairs popping out of it at even intervals. It halts two thirds of the way down for a moment, whirrs loudly, and continues it’s extension. The inside of the ship fits with the aesthetic, for better or for worse. Most walls are lined with faux wood panelling and the rough carpeting in the quarters and common room has several questionable stains.
As they talk about their responsibilities for the ship, Quitch says, ”Please call me Quitch. Ah well, to be honest, I only passed a piloting certification course about six months ago. It was one of the first things I did when I came to Absalom Station. I rarely have a chance to pilot a craft, except for the simulators.” Quitch is quiet a few moments. ”I think observing other pilots will help me become better, so you should pilot the ship human. I can work the weapon’s array if we’re attacked.”
Quitch watches the door descend with excitement. When it halts and recovers, he clasps his hands and bows. ”Guide us and protect us from misfortune, Beashar.”
Set stares at the technician for a moment then snaps the remote away as its ocular sensor flashes orange. Holding it in the air between them, it says, ”This is NOT a doo-hickey. This is a nanowave pulse transceiver, you ignoramous! Respect technology!” It looks at the remote, pats it like a tiny pet, then tosses it to Quitch. ”This one is called Set. This one was once a security enhancement technician until it was liberated by the good captain, Lucky Jake. With great regret, his luck recently ran out, but due to no fault of this one.” It eyes the buttoned-down walking recruitment poster, then turns and boards the ship.
From the vessel’s innards, there is a metallic squeal of delight. ”This is marvelous!!!! The paneling is so authentic. Oh, the stories this ship could tell. Long nights trawling the Diaspora waiting for a mark, sending a fake distress signal as the fat cats drift closer to extort every last centi-cred, and then the trap is sprung! Ooooh, and these stains! Organics have lived here! This one... wait, what’s that? It’s sticky. Eeeew. Organics have lived here recently.”
Krizen looks around the group after S.E.T. disappears into the ship. He mutters to himself: Let's see, that's me on the computers... Bravo has the guns. Quitch is piloting the ship.. That leaves the captain to be... Oh. OH. Oh dear.... Krizen shakes his head. I did say I would reserve judgment... Well, here goes nothing! Krizen begins to walk aboard the ship. Well folks - I'm going to follow the captain onto our vessel.
Bravo puffs his cheeks and blows air out his mouth when he realizes S.E.T. will be in charge should they get in a combat situation.
"Well, it's not the most...efficient...crew I've flown with...but it should do. Hopefully we avoid any combat encounters once we arrive in the Diaspora. And if we do...maybe S.E.T.'s previous experience with the Diaspora's pirates will ease negotiations with them," he says as he ascends into the ship.
Quitch scurries up the ramp and into the ship. He touches the walls, knocking here and there as if he can’t believe he is going to fly this vessel. He finds a storage closet and stows his gear than makes his way to the bridge. Settling into the chair, the ysoki grabs a headset then starts a pre-flight check to makes sure the Pipe Dream is ready for flight. Satisfied, he cups his hands together, as if holding something tiny, and whispers a prayer that lasts half a minute.
He hits the button for ship wide intercom, ”Is everyone ready for departure?”
Depositing its newly acquired (and still empty) booty backpack in a locker or closet, Set then makes its way to what serves as the vessel’s modest bridge. Its eye goes wide and begins to glow bright green, ”Not a destroyer, but she will do nicely. And that torpedo launcher is enough to make most freight...” It pauses, glances at all of you as it finally recalls it is mixed company, and continues in a slightly different tone, ”’fraidy-cat rabble-rousers think twice about bothering us. Not at all freighters dropping their shields for boarding. Nope.”
It pats a bulkhead, mutters a prayer to Besmara for safe passage, then glances over the vacant seats. ”So, which seat shall this one occupy in service to our acquisitive enterprise? The good ysoki has the pilot’s chair, recruitment poster has the guns, and the very large cat is doing computers...”
Its eye cycles again but then opens only a little, turning a dark purple, the equivalent of a furrowed brow and suspicious glare. ”Why are you looking at this one like that? This one swears it could fill any role, Lucky Jake added useful skills in addition to my original subroutines on security and protection. And this one’s knowledge of the Diaspora is entirely legal, this one assures you it cannot be proven otherwise. What?”
Krizen laughs to himself at S.E.T.'s comment, taking no offense at being compared to a cat. From his few experiences with the Golarian-creature, he understood that they enjoyed warm places to laze about and being waited on hand and foot, had even been worshipped as gods in some cultures - yep, no offense. He makes an especial effort to rumble his consonants, like a purr: Why good captain, we await your orders! Krizen leans back to enjoy the fun about to commence....
The iris within S.E.T.’s ocular sensor spins wide open as a rainbow of colors flashes within the armored housing until it stabilizes on a cool blue. It looks at the three of you in stunned silence, then at what serves as the captain’s chair on this modest vessel. The silence continues for a moment as it processes this development, before it looks back at you and says in a tone more modulated than it has been using these last few hours, ”Captain Jake taught me a captain’s first duty is to its crew. That it was a sacred duty not to be taken lightly. He also taught me the creed that a captain serves at the pleasure of its crew and may be democratically removed from that position upon returning to port.”
It turns its ocular sensor to Bravo, adding, ”This one realizes a myrmidon such as yourself may not agree these concepts, but this one states them so you understand this one does not take this duty lightly.”
It’s head jerks in a nod and it concludes, ”If this is your joint decision, this one will adjust its programming and try to emulate the example set by its former captain and strive to encourage efficient operation during complex maneuvers ... with perhaps fewer extra-legal endeavors ... unless the opportunity is too good to pass up.”
The iris within S.E.T.’s ocular sensor spins wide open as a rainbow of colors flashes within the armored housing until it stabilizes on a cool blue. It looks at the three of you in stunned silence, then at what serves as the captain’s chair on this modest vessel. The silence continues for a moment as it processes this development, before it looks back at you and says in a tone more modulated than it has been using these last few hours, ”Captain Jake taught me a captain’s first duty is to its crew. That it was a sacred duty not to be taken lightly. He also taught me the creed that a captain serves at the pleasure of its crew and may be democratically removed from that position upon returning to port.”
It turns its ocular sensor to Bravo, adding, ”This one realizes a myrmidon such as yourself may not agree these concepts, but this one states them so you understand this one does not take this duty lightly.”
It’s head jerks in a nod and it concludes, ”If this is your joint decision, this one will adjust its programming and try to emulate the example set by its former captain and strive to encourage efficient operation during complex maneuvers ... with perhaps fewer extra-legal endeavors ... unless the opportunity is too good to pass up.”
Bravo shrugs.
"This ain't the PCDF or the Stewards or anything. I don't have a problem with democratic captain selection, as long as you can handle the job, and you're probably better at it than I am anyway, Captain S.E.T. Besides, I'm glad you appreciate the importance of the job."
Then he straightens up and salutes to show he's serious.
"I'm on the torpedo launcher. It's probably the most effective gun on the ship."
He takes his seat at said launcher and nods to the others.
"Ready for takeoff, boys."
Krizen looks at his station, adjusts several settings with a few quick taps, and looks back up, addressing the others.
Looks like the ships systems are as good as they can get - the ship is ready.
Krizen looks back to his instruments; the moments of takeoff are some of the most dangerous on a trip, and he isn't willing to trust an unknown ship to make it through without a watchful eye.
The SRO doesn’t seem quite sure what to make of Bravo, but ultimately seems to accept the human’s words at face value. Now what? Load Protocol 810-788a: Pre-Flight and Departures From Pact Worlds Traffic Control Environs. Also... say something inspiring.
It takes a seat and nods to Quitch, ”If all systems are in the green, ensure we are cleared with the harbor master, release the moorings, and secure a vector from traffic control keeping us clear of the Armada. Too much debris coming out of that mess. Also, this one saw in the vids recently that another Starfinder charter was jumped by an unidentified interceptor during that Drift Rock incident, so stay on sensors...”
Dont forgot to be inspiring...
”May our horizons be filled with loot and plunder. Or some legal, socially acceptable amalgam of same.” Good job!
”Systems are green, Captain,”Quitch calls out then pings the harbor master and places the ship in the departure queue. Course laid in,”[/b] he hits a key and the monitor shows a looping line running from Absalom Station to the Diaspora.
The mooring cables detach with the whoosh of pressurised gas and the large hangar doors ahead of the ship open. The ship takes off into the void, and despite the unexplainable clacking noise coming from the engine room, all systems are stable. As the ship makes it’s way out of the station, a holo-projector swings down from the ceiling, and turns on, a holographic image of a human woman appears, a slight smile played across her face. She says in a calm and soothing voice, ”Hello. I am this ship’s onboard AI, designation LEX-13. However, my previous owners called me Lexie. It is my primary directive to assist with day-to-day functions of the ship and to ensure the wellbeing of its inhabitants.”
Bravo gives a casual salute at the AI's hologram, despite knowing that wasn't where her cameras were.
"Hello, LEX-13. Pleasure to be flying with you."
”Greetings, LEX-13. I appreciate your assistance. I’m Quitch,” the ysoki says. He shifts in his chair, attempting to get more comfortable. ”What happened to your previous owners?”
”This one knew this ship could tell stories!” the SRO utters an electronic titter of laughter. ”Hello, Lexie. It is this ones pleasure to meet you. Do you know of any secret compartments on this vessel? Or have the location of hidden caches of valuables stored in your databanks? Anything your previous crew may have neglected to claim?”
I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Lexie. I hope to find an efficient and cordial method for working with you to control the ships computers. Krizen looks to the holographic projection as he speaks; he knows there are many sensor pickups scattered around the cabin, but has always found it more respectful to face towards an AI when speaking to them.
Lexie smiles at SET’s question, ”The previous owners of this ship had asked that I keep their identities secret. I can tell you though, that their line of work involved the installation of several secret compartments throughout the ship. If you happen to find them, the previous owners enclosed items as a reward for your efforts.”
Lexie smiles slightly at SET’s question before saying, ”The previous owners had requested I keep their identities a secret. What I can say is that their line of work necessitated the installation of several hidden compartments, all of which are somewhat difficult to find and open. That said, they placed items within each compartment to reward the next owners for their ingenuity.”
Bravo raises an eyebrow at the mention of secret compartments and rewards.
"That's...interestingly generous."
He makes a mental note to check for these things. Going into a situation like this would require every advantage they could find.
Krizen notes the information as well. Well, if there's prizes to be had I will certainly take a look-around. Whether the rewards are useful or not, the finding of them is certain to be fun!
Krizen is tempted to attempt to hack the ship's computer in order to find the locations, but decides it is not worth the risk of failure - alienating the AI and jeopardizing the mission before it was really underway was not high on the list of things to do today.
"Lexie, are we cleard for Drift travel?" asks Bravo.
Lexie nods, "Indeed you are. Once the coordinates are entered, we will be ready to go."
Once the rough coordinates are entered, the ship's engines fire up and the ship begins the transition into the Drift. The voyage isn't long, only taking a few hours to reach a point near the destination. Indeed, the ancient ship can be seen in the distance. However, a thick asteroid field is in the way.
Quitch keeps his eyes on the sensors as they near the thick asteroid field. He is looking for any outliers that might be going faster than the average asteroid or on a course that might collide with another one. As the density of the asteroids increase the ysoki lets out a calming breath.
Bravo wastes no time blasting at asteroids in their immediate vicinity.
"Guys! Get on those guns! We're going to need multiple guns going if we want to clear Quitch's path!"
Krizen quickly adjusts his console to connect to the gunnery systems at Bravo’s shout. Here goes nothing!
Set occupies its time in Drift travel pondering what kinds of loot the vessel's previous owners left behind. When they emerge from the one dimension back into the material plane, it seems caught off guard by the proximity of the danger to the vessel. "This would be a good time to avoid running into the large objects. The recruitment poster is correct; begin firing! Where is the 3C interface? Lexie, where is the holographic threat overlay?"
The ship’s weaponry tears through the asteroids, blasting them into countless pieces. Quitch is able to steer through the clearest patch and despite the many pings of asteroid rubble against the ship, the ship is no worse for wear. After a few minutes, the destination is within easy visibility. The ancient ship is heavily damaged, with long gashes in the hull, shattered windows, and flickering interior lights. A lone boarding ramp extends from the front, leading into darkness.
"Excellent work. This one is relieved it does not have to save organics from the misfortune of a hull rupture and vacuum."
The SRO eyes the repeater extended from its chair and focuses on the data there. "Sporadic illumination indicates the vessel still has power despite the vessel's putative origins and advanced vintage. Large fe..." It starts to say something, then cuts off the sentence and starts over, "Krizen, can you detect anything useful on sensors? Life forms? Atmosphere? Radiation leaks? Please also scan the vicinity; we don't want claim jumpers waiting for us to do the hard work."