NPC Clive-bot's page

Quickly re-aiming the Missile Launcher on the enemy ship, telling the missile to jet around and target the enemy's forward arc. As usual, he requests assistance from Clive.

WOW!

"That missile strike is substantially more destructive than what statistical data would indicate for analogous payloads. In fact, my initial calculations show that to better than a one in two-thousand shot.

"It was... beautiful."

*ping*

"Good morning, crew. Be advised, we are eight hours from Drift exit. Be advised, eight hours from Drift exit."

At the Captain's order, Alfin directs Clive to initiate the jump to Drift. With a whirring spool of light, the Inscrutable drops out of the Material Plane and into the colored haze of the Drift.

"Drift jump successful, Captain. We will arrive at our next destination in..." In-System Drift Jump: 1d6 ⇒ 3 "...72 hours. All systems are nominal."

Using the access card, Cranston logs into the lighthouse's system and begins looking around for the drone protocol backups.

Mills has little difficulty locating the drone backups. With a cursory glance, it appears that Cattergorn had spec'd his drone for ranged combat, armor, and cargo capacity.

When prompted, Clive copies the files to the ship's databanks. "Updating Thumper protocols... update complete."

As the starship levels out for the final approach, Clive chirps in.

"Captain, I'm receiving a homing signal from 'Cattergorn Lighthouse', but there's no response to hailing messages. We're at 100 miles and closing."

"Attention, crew. Attention crew. We are ... EIGHT ... hours from Drift jump. Please report to the bridge at T-1 hours for briefing."

Wrap up whatever you care to and report to the bridge when ready.

"Clive? You're not playing with the drift coolant, are you?"

"I have not altered any settings in the drift circulation system. I know 537 games, but none of them involve coolant. Perhaps valve B134d is the culprit - I'm detecting voltage drop at the solenoid.

"Perhaps you could teach me the coolant game at a later time? I keep a repository of new games. I am quite good at the "surprise false alarm" game, but I have not yet figured out a winning strategy in the "quiet, you dumb bot" game."

"Drift jump successful, Captain. We will arrive in low Akiton orbit in..." In-System Drift Jump: 1d6 ⇒ 4 "...96 hours. All systems are nominal."

"I am pleased to report that I am back online, Captain. Thanks to Science Officer Ziyad's efforts, my distributed error rate has been reduced by approximately 93% and my natural language parser is operating at 224% of the last benchmarked position. Additionally, I find it prudent to note that the galley is precipitously low on powdered sugar, clarified butter, and plastic explosive material," Clive chimes in with a synthetic, but not unpleasant, tone, notably different from his previous mechanical chirping.

Cranston steps to a terminal and begins digging around himself.

With a clattering jangle, an articulated camera springs wildly from the wall, settling into a rough orbit around Lucille.

"GREEEEEETings mechanICAL engineer with... pet human. I see your REquest for maintenance logs. You may find it... pruuuUUuuudent ...to search under the gallEY directory. Many many maintenance logs in gallEY and 17 recipes for SOUP."

After a few minutes of searching, Mills starts to turn up all sorts of maintenance records, and it quickly becomes obvious why Lucille couldn't find much - the ship's computer storage is highly distributed, and there seems to be no rhyme or reason to the data storage protocols. In fact, it appears that the ship's AI has been cross-pollinating files between different systems for the better part of 70 years.

Further complicating matters, it becomes obvious that the ship has undergone multiple retrofits over the years, each a partial patch job over the last. There are layers upon layers of work-arounds and back-compatibility tweaks.

Fortunately, the power core is only about seven years old, and has seen very little use - Mills predicts that only a few minor components will need more than a cursory inspection.

"Okay... simulated excercises?

Aflin notices that, although the ship is generally dingy and worn, the control consoles on the bridge have all been retrofit with new hardware. He actually has to peel a protective wrapping off the pilot's chair before sitting down.

As soon as he speaks, a small camera extends from the ceiling in front of him, flexing back and forth on an articulated arm before focusing in the bridge of Aflin's nose.

"GREEEEEEETings miniature huManoid and welCOME to the... INSCRUTABLE. It is a SHIP meant for SPACE.

"You wish to perFORM simulated exerci-ci-ci-cies that reflect the NEW modifications to the SHIP meant for SPACE. YOu are AUTHorizzzzzed. That is... yes."

The bridge's viewscreens cut to black, and a simulated shipyard of basic, unshaded polygons appears. A list of exercises flashes up on the console in front of Alfin, about two dozen in total, ranging from simple docking procedures to complex evasive maneuvers.