Fly Me To The Moon(s)

[FC Error]

September 24th, 2242
Near Tiara Station, Terran Orbit
14:25 SCT


"All personnel, brace for acceleration. All personnel, brace for acceleration."

Almost idly, you tap your heels together, disengaging your magnetic shoes; grabbing a nearby handhold, you steady yourself. A brief rumble is your warning before the acceleration hits you; 0.2 gravities and steadily rising as the drives are throttled up.

You take a moment to appreciate the distant sight of Tiara Station, her rings spinning serenely; turning to the hatch, you make for the bridge, mildly wobbly under pseudogravity after nearly two weeks in free-fall.

You listen to the rumble of the drives as you walk - a sound that's quite soothing, actually, given all the time you've spent in space. Now, though, you're not a kid running around the corridors of an old transport, you're Freesia MacKenzie - owner/operator of your very own spaceship.

Speaking of said spaceship, you call up the ship overview on your PAD, running your eyes over the wireframe schematic of a…

>Mid-range freighter; Not old, not new, but solid and efficient. Surprisingly comfy, too.
>X-boat; Small and not much cargo, but her small frame is faster than fast.
>Salvager - a bit creaky at times, but she's about as rugged as they get.
>Survey vessel - for all the fact that surveys can be dull, they pay well… and you get to go everywhere.
>Other: suggest a hull.

Exchanging nods with a crewman, you turn into the bridge - a smile crossing your face at the sight of the crew - your crew - nodding respectfully. A few even salute; you wave them down. This is hardly a UN battlewagon, after all.

"Commander." Your XO, a Terran by the name of Laura Shaw. "Up to cruise acceleration, outbound for our departure window."

"Very well." you acknowledge. "Status report?"

"Loadmaster reports no problems. Engineer is swearing up a storm, as usual, but says we're good to go. Oh, and the paperwork from the Space Authority came in. They like the name you picked, apparently."

>Optional: suggest a name for your ship.

"Good to hear. Time to clear Tiara control zone?" you inquire. Shaw glances at the nav display.

"An hour, just about. Assuming some moron in a shuttle doesn't cause problems with traffic control."

You quirk a brow, but nod. "Alright. I'll be in my office."

Suiting actions to words, you make your way into the small ready room/office off the bridge. Taking a seat, you bring up your display and begin familiarising yourself with the system.

Idly, you think back; remembering your time back home.

>Proficiency: Navigation - Orbits, courses, and astronavigation come to you easily.
>Proficiency: Engineering - You've always had a knack for machines.
>Proficiency: Socialite - You find it easy to get along with people.
>Proficiency: Science - While no specialist, you know a little about a lot, when it comes to SCIENCE.
>Proficiency: Other - Request another proficiency. Subject to QM approval.

Flipping through the database, you bring up the navigation display, staring at the projected course plot.

>Where are you going?

>[] Mars
>[] Hawking Station
>[] Saturn
>[] Ceres
>[] Other: specify.

________________________

QM's Note;

So, I've wanted to do a space quest for a while now. Still hammering out the finer details of the setting, but overall it's mostly done. Feel free to post questions; I'll answer according to your character's knowledge.

Basically put, it's a medium-hard sci-fi setting with a side order of cosmic mystery.

I'm not abandoning FOHA... my muse just adamantly refuses to let me work on it for the moment.

 

[FC Error]

Some basic details for those interested;

Spoiler

The Sol System, 2242:

Humanity, contrary to expectation, hasn't self-destructed by the mid-23rd century. In fact, it's doing pretty well. Colonies across the Sol System, unprecedented peace and prosperity, even mostly-competent political leadership.

For now, anyways.

The Places;

Earth (or, as the cool kids these days call it, Terra) is, as ever, the home of the vast majority of humanity. More or less as one would expect; a pretty, relatively comfortable blue-green space rock. While various countries still function (mostly) as normal at home, all offworld affairs are handled through the United Nations - specifically, the UN Space Authority. Handling space law, enforcement, and administration, they're an entity of considerable power and influence.

Mars saw its first permanent settlement established in 2046, and has since grown into a planet of some 170 million people. Semi-independent of the UN, the residents are looking forwards to the proposed terraforming projects coming over the proverbial horizon.

The Asteroid Belt is the domain of mining drones, manufacturing facilities, and shipyards. Its only real population live aboard Ceres Station (built on the eponymous planetoid) and O'Neill Station, humanity's first venture into self-sustaining spaceborne habitats. Generally either a very boring place to work, or a very fun place to party.

Saturn, much to the surprise of many, was next on the list for colonizations; specifically, in the form of floating habitats in the upper atmosphere, and stations in orbit. While boasting a populace of a scant 400,000, Saturn's near-self-sufficiency in terms of water and food make for an interesting case study on the "habitability" of gas giants.

While little exists past Saturn save some scientific stations and the occasional survey vessel, rumours about recently of a mysterious archaeological expedition dispatched to an asteroid near Neptune...

__________

Active Vessel​

SV Untested Hypothesis [NCV-22496]
Atlas-class Survey Vessel
Science Vessel
Cargo; 5/400 (current/total)
Passengers: 12/40
Crew; 22
Drives; x4 Rolls-Royce SL-206
Armament; N/A
Other Facilities: x4 Science Lab, x1 Astrometrics Lab, x2 Probe Launcher
Upkeep Monthly; €620,000

Vessel Traits

50% Bonus to all Sensor, Sensor Analysis, and Science rolls
20% penalty to all Hull and Damage Resist rolls
20% bonus to all Electronic Warfare rolls

_____

Freesia Sofia MacKenzie
Birthplace: Noctis Labrynthus, Mars
Age: 27
Sex: F

Proficiencies;
Science I

Connections;
>Alouette MacKenzie - Mum (Mars)
>Joshua York - Cargomaster (Tiara Station)


Available Funds: €1,500,000

_____

Glossary


UNSA: United Nations Space Authority. The final governing body throughout much of the Sol system.

VMMD: Voss-MacMillan (Plasma) Drive. Standard spacecraft engine.

X-boat: High-speed courier. Engines, fuel tanks, and little else, used to transport sensitive data and cargo very, very quickly.

Tiara: Tiara Station. The primary interplanetary dock in Terran orbit.

Marvin: Endearing or derogatory term for Martian citizens, depending on context.

Gas-head: Endearing term for Saturnian citizens.

Lunatic: Term for Lunar citizens. Possibly derogatory.

 

[FC Error]

Log 2: Cruise Acceleration

Gain Proficiency: Science I
Update: Ship added [SV Untested Hypothesis, NCV-22496


You stare for a moment at the dot on screen, representing Saturn. Word has it, the University of Copernicus is looking for a few ships to schlep some undergrads around - something about field work out in the boonies.

Flicking your wrist, you shift to the next screen; crew roster. Scanning it idly, you sigh and lean back, trying to relax in the .8g of cruise acceleration.

A beep sounds, and the light beside the door blinks. "Come in," you call, straightening up and collapsing the holo. A moment later, the door swishes open, admitting your XO.

"Commander." she greets, flopping down into the seat across from you. "We're on course and cruising. Found us something to do once we arrive?"

"Could be." You bring the holo back up, flicking over to the comms screen. "Word has it U of C is looking for ships to lug some undergrads around and teach them how to space." Tapping a string into your keyboard, you hit enter; messages fill the screen. Opening one, you skim it. "Yep, several open requests for survey ships to head into the outer system for research work."

"Not bad. What's the pay like?" Shaw arches an eyebrow.

"Flat rate of two million for a month-long trip. Space for two labs and twelve passengers… we can manage that, easy."

"Sounds pretty good. What's our time to Saturn?"

You do some quick mental math. "Bit over a week at current accel. How's the crew?"

"Mostly happy. Save Keller. Then again, I doubt he's ever happy."

You quirk a smile. "Sounds like him." Waving the holo off, you stand. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to drop by medbay for some g-drugs and take my shift on the bridge."

"Aww, does the Marvin need me to carry her in this high grav?" Shaw grins widely. "'Cos I will, too."

"Wow, that eager to cop a feel? I'll pass, thanks, we should at least pretend to be professionals." you return, tapping the door control.

"Aye aye, commander ma'am." she answers dryly as you walk/limp out onto the command deck.

_____

Easing your way into the infirmary, you nod a greeting to the medic. "Doc."

'Doc' - or, more accurately, Joseph Holloway - looks over at you. "Commander. Looking for adapters, I take it?"

"Read my mind," you confirm, falling into one of the nearby chairs. Holloway huffs a laugh, moving over to the glass-fronted cabinet beside his desk.

"Not even an hour in, and you're already going for the pills. That bad?"

"Week-long trip to Tiara at third gee, two weeks in free-fall getting this hull ready to go, then suddenly, wham, point-eight gee. Have some sympathy, Doc."

"Yes, you poor career spacer, you." he observes wryly. Pulling a bottle from the cabinet, to tosses it to you. "Take one now, keep another for later. Call it twenty-one hundred."

"My hero." you mutter, downing the meds as directed. Tucking another into your pocket, you recap the bottle, tossing it back. Getting to your feet, you head back out, intending to luxuriate in an acceleration couch for a while.

"Try not to keel over on your way back." Holloway snarks. You reply with a two-finger salute as the hatch slides shut behind you.

_____

Idly skimming through news headlines, you ponder your trip. Space travel being what it is, you often find yourself with little to do but stare at screens for hours on end. While any spacer worth their salt gets used to this quickly, you find yourself exceptionally bored - commanding a ship doesn't require you to watch reactor output, or tweak engines for ideal efficiency, or whatever.

Maybe a drill, in a couple days. Just long enough for boredom to really set in.

A notification pops up on your display; tapping it, you're met with a message.

TO: f.mackenzie/ncv-22496
FROM: j.york/tos-09200
SUBJECT: Of interest to you?

Freesia,

Friend of mine forwarded a message to me from U of OM - not really my balliwick, but you might be interested, if you want to give your new girl a decent shakedown.

Cheers,

Josh

You open the attached message - it is indeed from the university on Olympus Mons, asking for a civilian survey ship to aid in an "important study of several asteroids in the outer solar system." How mysterious. The offered fee, however, was five million - not a sum to be sneezed at, for two months' work.

Sitting back, you turn this over in your head.

>[] Proceed onwards to Saturn - You'd rather not change course out of the blue if you can help it.
>[] Call Shaw, ask for her opinion.
>[] Divert to Mars - you always did love a good mystery, and the pay looks good.

>Additional: Hold a drill during the trip? Fire? Acceleration? Other?

 

[FC Error]

Composite vote? Composite vote.

>Call Shaw, ask for her opinion.
>Divert to Mars - barring any major objections from the XO, it looks interesting.
>Hold an acceleration drill during the course change.


Thinking a moment, you hit the intercom. "XO Shaw to the bridge." Flicking over to intraship messaging, you compose a brief message to Reynolds, at the helm, informing him of your planned acceleration drill (and ordering him to keep it quiet, for maximum surprise er, effectiveness. Right.

Sitting back, you relax as much as possible and wait. It doesn't take long; a minute later, your (rather buxom, now that you notice it) XO sweeps into the room, eyebrow climbing her forehead. "Commander?"

Wordlessly, you bring up the message from Josh and turn the screen towards her; she skims it quickly, frowning. "Hmm. Not bad. Don't we already have something out at Saturn, though?"

"Nothing actually lined up - no lack of jobs, so it didn't seem critical." you return.

"Point." Mulling it over a moment, she shrugs. "Your call, but Mars looks pretty good. Asteroid survey sounds boring, but with that pay I am okay with that."

"Asteroid-watching it is, then." Sending a quick message to the helm, you smirk at her. "Also, find a chair."

Her expression switches from puzzled to realization as the distinctive descending tone of the acceleration alarm rings, sending everyone present (sans those already seated) scrambling for their seats. A moment later, gravity disappears abruptly, and the ship rotates in space, aligning to its new course.

"Five gees should be good for the initial kick, Mister Reynolds." you call out, briefly ensuring your drug dispenser is on and readied.

"Yes'm." comes the reply - and then an irate god reaches down and plants his boot solidly on your chest.

You're no stranger to hard acceleration - you are a career spacer - but they never get any easier. The sudden struggle to concentrate, to stay conscious, to breathe - always the same, no matter how many times you do it.

The burn seems interminable. Intellectually, you know scant seconds are passing, but they feel like hours, slowly dragging out as inertia does its level best to flatten you against your acceleration couch -

-and then it's over, leaving you to (quietly) gasp for air as the engines dial back to a comparatively-sedate 1g.

"Ouch." you mutter, brushing aside the lingering ache and releasing your straps. Sitting up, you turn to Shaw, who's also looking rather strained. "How'd we do?"

Checking her displays, she shrugs. "Not too bad. Twenty seconds from go to whoa. Maybe a few grumpy crew, but no problems reported. Keller's already sending us both angry messages, though."

"He can deal. Better we find out now if the engines will fold up at high-g than find out around Neptune or something." you grouse, checking your own screens - and, sure as sunrise, angry engineer messages are already appearing. Whiner.

Opening the shipwide comm, you address the crew. "All hands, this is the commander. Congratulations on surviving your first unscheduled acceleration drill. Twenty seconds from alarms to ready is an excellent figure. So you'll all be pleased to hear that i'll be holding you to those same excellent standards from here on out." You pause, grinning at the muted groan from the two junior officers on the bridge. "For now, assume cruise stations. MacKenzie out."

Hitting the button again, you turn to Shaw, grin evolving into a smirk. "Hear that, XO? Excellence. I'll be withholding your coffee rations if that doesn't happen."

"On some planets, those are killing words." she grumbles good-naturedly, waving you off. "I'll make it happen. If only out of enlightened self-interest."


<><><>


//Personal Log, 2142-09-24//
//Cmdr. Freesia MacKenzie//

A younger, less-travelled me would be rather shocked to discover that space flight is quite often boring. Logically, most of us know that spending a week cruising from point A to point B with nothing to do but stare at readouts won't exactly be the pinnacle of excitement and adventure, but logic was not ten-year-old Freesia's strongpoint.

Regardless, nothing's exploded, Shaw's only groped me once (and Holloway twice), and Keller has yet to snap and go on a murderous rampage. Gotta appreciate the little things in life.

Being honest, I had no idea how someone snuck a still onboard… and then I found it. It was built into the ship, apparently during construction. I'm not even mad. That's just amazing.

Thankfully, excessive drinking doesn't seem to be the order of the day. Given that we're due for two months out in the sticks, however… that may change. Yay.

//End//


<><><>


You're roused from a mildly-inebriated sleep by a prod to your shoulder. Flailing ineffectually, you crack open your eyes to see Laura standing over you, a distinctly amused look on her face. "Been drinking?"

"It's my spaceship and i'll drink if I want to." you mutter, dragging a hand over your eyes. "What's up?"

"Two things. One, we're about two hours out from Mars control zone. Two, and more importantly, your mom's calling."

You sit up, squinting suspiciously at her. "Say again."

"Your mom's calling. Wants to talk to you. Is she a spacer?" your exec's amusement seems to intensify.

"No, UN admin drone or something. Why?" you reply, swinging your feet off your bunk and to the floor. Gripping the handrail next ot eh bed, you sway upright. Shaw seems strangely glad to help steady you.

"I ask 'cos she's got a tongue on her that would make most Navy pukes sit up and pay attention. Where she learned some of that… well, I never." The Terran shakes her head mock-disapprovingly.

"Sounds like mum, alright. I'd say help me get dressed, but you're clearly enjoying this far too much." you grouse, limping towards the locker.

"Mmmmaybe."

"Go. go on, shoo." you wave at the hatch. "Go watch the bridge or something. Get."

A less-than-innocent smirk adorning her face, she gets, leaving you to (somewhat painfully) dress yourself.


[] Check with traffic control first; mum can bloody wait.
[] Take the call; it's been a while, after all.
[] Ignore it. Not much she has to say that you want to hear.
[] Other

(For the record, yes, this vote determines your relationship with dear ol' mum. Expect a number of these in future.)

Note: Apologies for the (very, very extended) delay. Writer's block, ennui, real life, and a heatwave all hit at once and basically completely drained my motivation and ability to write. I'll try to get things rolling again soon, both here and with FOHA.

 

[FC Error]

[X] Take the call; it's been a while, after all.


Bringing up the terminal beside the bunk, you check the comms tab and, sure as sunrise, find an incoming transmission blinking at you. Selecting it, you're greeted with the smiling face of Alouette MacKenzie. "Cherie! It's good to see you again."

"Hey, maman." You feel a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. "How have you been?"

"Oh, but life has gotten dull." She sighs, her inner drama queen apparently on full-blast. "Not so much as a vandalism or jaywalking charge in a month. Just routine make-work, I swear I'm losing my mind with boredom."

You chuckle. "You'd think that'd normally be a good thing, non?"

"Perhaps. I might have to look into a new line of work." Again, your brain supplies. She'd been doing that for as long as you can remember - bouncing from job to job, only staying anywhere for a few years at most.

"Maybe you can finally take up painting." you quip. "Like you've been saying for the last how many years?"

A chuckle. "Perhaps I finally will, cherie. Oh, pardon my manners! How have you been? I hear you have your very own ship!" Her smile is infectious - you find yourself grinning happily at the link.

"Oui, a survey ship. I don't think it's quite sunk in yet, honestly." You rub your arm awkwardly. "I'm not even that old, and commanding a ship… well."

"You are too modest, dear." Mum chastises you. "You'll do fine. This was your dream since you were une petite fille, oui? You won't let it fail, I know it."

"I'll certainly try not to." you agree, leaning back. "Not sure if I should be looking forwards to our first job, though. Two months out past Neptune, doing asteroid surveys with undergrads. Ugh."

Your mother' tinkling laugh filters through the connection. "You never did take well to sitting around, doing nothing. At least you have a crew to stay occupied with, I suppose?"

"You could say that." You feel a blush rising unbidden to your cheeks. "My executive seems to have designs on me. I'm… not sure what to think of that."

"Ah, the Terran you spoke of? What was her name… Laura, yes? Some might say it's too early to settle down, but, well…"

"Mum!" You can feel your face heating notably. "It's a bit early for that, I think."

This earns you what can only be described as a saucy grin. "Your father and I married younger than you are now. Don't let that stop you." Glancing offscreen, she frowns. "I'm sorry to cut this short, but I must go - something about some hooligans up at the spaceport. Au revoir, ma petite fleur."

"Au revoir, maman. See you later."

Closing the comms link, you set the console to sleep, standing and stretching. It'll be nice to get back into free-fall, if only for a little while, before the three-week trip out to the outer system.

But first, traffic control needs to be dealt with. A brief trip to the bridge later, you fall into your chair and take in the navigation display with a glance - seems it's a busy day, as there's easily several dozen assorted ships moving around Shiva Station.

Bringing up the comms address for the university, you begin tapping out a message. Glancing up briefly at the comms station - Anderson's on duty, it seems - you raise your voice. "Comms, signal Shiva and request approach and docking clearance."

"Aye, commander." she acknowledges.

Finishing your email - a brief "Heard about your offer, have ship, can help" to the university - you send it off, turning back to the holomap, idly scanning nearby ships. Freighters, miners, even a pair of UN destroyers hovering near the edge of the control zone.

Leaning back, you flick your screen over to external cameras, and spend some time spotting landmarks on the planet's surface. Time to play the waiting game.

<><><>

A half-hour later, a distinctive clunk echoes through the hull as the docking clamps engage, locking Untested Hypothesis in place. Floating near the nav display, you watch idly as the pressurized docking tube extends, sealing to the ship's airlock.

"Locked and sealed, commander." Reynolds reports from the helm.

"Very good. XO, pass along that crew can go aboard station during off-duty hours, we're not planning on leaving for at least fifty hours."

You smile at the muted yesss from Reynolds' direction and float over to your chair. Tapping the panel next to you, you bring up the station services page, and do a quick skim; you're still on almost 96% fuel, so it's not critical - topping up would be a fairly cheap prospect. Tabbing to another page, you're greeted with a list of shops geared towards spacers - including a ship equipment supplier and "crew comfort specialist".

That… could either be interesting, or something to steer very clear of.

[] Go aboard the station. There's nothing you absolutely positively need to do right now.
-[] Visit the equipment supplier - Hypothesis is functional, but a tad barebones.
-[] Visit the… crew comfort specialist. Assuming it's not just a house of ill repute, two months in space with not much to do sounds distinctly unpleasant. Maybe they can prevent that.
-[] Just peruse the station promenade.

[] Stay aboard; you're still waiting for that reply from the UoOM.
-[] Chat with one of the crew (specify - you can also go meet ones you've not spoken to yet).
-[] Head to your cabin - you've got a date with a movie and a cup of tea.

[] Other (specify).

Apologies for the brevity, but really the intrigue will be starting soon. And yes, dear maman loves playing up her "stereotypical mother" image. Quite the drama queen, is your mum.

For the record, I've not got the mechanics of the quest fleshed out. Most of it will be in the background, but expect some dice rolls from here on out. Now 'scuse me while I desperately spam a name generator for the crew

 

[FC Error]

[X] Go aboard the station. There's nothing you absolutely positively need to do right now.
-[X] Visit the… crew comfort specialist. Assuming it's not just a house of ill repute, two months in space with not much to do sounds distinctly unpleasant. Maybe they can prevent that.

"Mister Reynolds, you have the conn." you call out. "I'm going aboard station to check on some provisions and upgrades."

"Aye, captain." the man responds, throwing a nod over his shoulder. Floating up out of your seat, you push yourself out the hatch, and begin sailing down the corridors towards the airlock.

<><><>

Standing in the .2g of the station's commercial ring, you eye the "crew comfort specialist" with a wary eye.

It certainly doesn't look like a brothel, but the flashy neon signs and frankly ancient-looking "retro-futuristic" (so says the prominent sign in the window) look in the store is… different.

Sighing, you push open the door and step/bounce inside, scanning the room. A row of collapsible, lightweight couches lines one wall; holoemitters are lined up on racks near the back of the store, and a wild assortment of entertainment consoles, portable computers, and even a zero-g sparring 'bot.

"Hey, welcome!" A young man dressed in an eye-hurting assortment of colours (and lights, you note) waves at you from the counter. "Welcome to Rockerboy's, I'm Klein. Can I help you with anything?"

"...possibly." You blink several times, clearing your eyes of the affront to good taste standing in front of you. "I've got a science ship that's set to spend a couple of months out in the boonies, and she's a little on the skimpy side at the moment, as far as crew amenities."

"Ah. Looking for something to keep the non-eggheads amused, I take it? Let's see…" wandering out from behind the counter, he scans the assembled merchandise, rubbing his chin in thought. "We've got a partial exercise set in the back, for the fitness types. Maybe a couple of the holos-" he waves at the emitters "-and some media libraries, if you don't have them already. Oh!" Moving off to the side, he indicates a display case, with a number of laptops arranged around a squat box. "We've also got a wireless server here. Runs separate from ship computers, so it can be used for games, media, whatever."

"Huh." you muse, pondering the options available. "You said partial fitness set?"

"Ayup. Some muscle bands for weightlifting, couple of treadmills. We were expecting some more, but the shipment got delayed. Customs hangup." He spreads his arms in a what-can-you-do gesture.

"Well, that-" a sharp beep-beep-beep interrupts you. Grabbing your comm unit, you note the caller's ID - Shaw - and sigh. "Sorry, have to take this. Just a second."

The shopkeeper nods amiably, launching himself back over to the counter while you answer. "MacKenzie."

"Shaw here. Looks like your high-forehead types from the university called back; they wanted to meet you on station, docking berth ten."

You arch an eyebrow. "Not one of the offices?"

"Apparently not. Just says berth ten, at thirteen-thirty."

"Ten minutes." you mutter. "Well, I'm not too far. Ta for the heads-up."

"'Course. Shaw out."

Stowing your comm unit, you bounce over to Klein. "Seems I've got an appointment. Have to run, but I'll be back to take another look at some of this stuff."

"Whatever works." He grins. "Have a good sol, yeah?"

"You as well." you acknowledge, drifting out the door and towards the lifts.

<><><>

Floating up to the airlock at berth 10, you note a cluster of people latched onto nearby handholds or magnetised to the deck - most in civilian jumpsuits, but two UN uniforms stand out amongst the assorted civvies.

One of said uniforms, a tall, dark-skinned woman with close-cropped hair, scans the assembled group, and speaks up. "Good, that's everyone. Captains, commanders, if you'll follow me." Turning, she floats into the airlock - looking closer, you spot the UNS Guangzhou DG06-2218 marked on the inner door.

Following everyone inside, you pull yourself into a corner, uncomfortable in the press of bodies. The so-far-mute UN officer cycles the lock, leading everyone out into a flat-grey corridor.

Observing the others as you float along, you note a wide variety of patches on the jumpsuits - freighters, an R&D company logo, what looks like a miner's patch, and one with the distinctive, sharp-angled form of an Atlas-class. Quite the assortment.

Ushering everyone into a room marked "Briefing 2", the presumably-junior UN guy closes the hatch and locks himself to the deck beside it, standing at the freefall equivalent of parade rest. The woman latches herself to the deck at the other end of the room, deftly manipulating a holodisplay next to her.

Waiting until the civilians have found seats, she clears her throat. "Good afternoon. Apologies for the cloak-and-dagger, but the UNSA declared this a classified briefing." (You idly note she's keeping her face carefully neutral.) "For the record, nothing you hear in this briefing will be shared in any way with anyone else until otherwise ordered. Understood?"

A chorus of murmured assent and nods answers. Nodding, she continues, "You've all been selected by the University of Olympus Mons, and the UN Space Authority, to join an expedition to a number of objects in close proximity to Neptune. Despite appearances, this isn't a simple asteroid survey."

You sit up, interested - around you, several of the other commanders do likewise.

"The objects all appear to from the same rock originally, broken up by something - we think tidal forces from Neptune itself. However, a deep-space observatory detected an EM burst from it - corresponding to the time when we believe it to have broken up."

"EM burst? Radio, or what?" one of the others - the miner-patch one - inquires. The UN officer - a Captain Greene, according to the rank bars and nametag - shrugs.

"They weren't specific in their reports. Regardless, they did specify it isn't something an asteroid does naturally. As such, we're going out to poke it, and do some mineral surveys while we're there."

"Is this just an investigation, or are we planning to stay if we find something exceptionally unusual?"

"For the moment, it's just a brief survey and sample-return." She responds. "If we find something, as you say, exceptionally unusual, that may be extended. The supply ship Provider is assigned to us, so provisions and fuel aren't going to be too tight. That being said, do make sure to top off both before we depart. It'll be covered by the UN, for this expedition."

Your eyebrows ratchet upwards in surprise. With anything that isn't a high-profile project or budget, the UNSA is notoriously stingy with funds. A blanket all-expenses-paid job offer? That was nearly unheard of.

"When are we leaving? I've got some equipment that needs replacing." one of the freighter commanders queries.

"Currently, we're scheduled to depart in two days. If you have any repairs, maintenance, or whatnot that needs longer, speak up now and we'll push that back. We're to depart in no more than a week, though." She glances around the room. "Any other questions?"

Hmm.

[] If you have any questions, now's the time: what ask?
[] You have two days; do you want any extra equipment? (Amenities, probes, lab modules, drones, etc.)

Vote by plan. Or don't. I'm a QM, not a cop.

For those curious;

Probes and Drones both operate by the same mechanics - you can carry a limited number of them in your Probe Bay, and deploy them to do various tasks. Currently,you're limited to Survey Probes (run detailed analyses of an area of space), Surface Probes (self-explanatory), and Repair Drones (exactly what it says on the tin).

Probes occupy 1 slot in a probe bay; drones occupy 2 (unless otherwise noted). Your ship currently has 10 slots in its Probe Bay.

Laboratory Modules are generalized physics, chemistry, geology, or biology labs (pick one per module). Your ship currently has 4 Lab Module slots.

All expenses covered by the UN, of course.

 

[FC Error]

Guess I should update thi-

-you wot.

Well. That's. Uh. A While.

Anyways on with the show-

[X][Amenities] Buy all the amenities. Well, reasonably buy all the amenities. Fitness equipment, separate server, sparring bot, all the books/ebooks, all the games, all the music, all the consoles, computers, etc. Just make sure they can all easily fit inside the ship without taking up too much room. Having that happen would be awkward...
[X][Labs] Split Lab Modules equally, One Geology, Chemistry, Physics and Biology. Also acquire a supply of seeds to set up a limited hydroponics facility in the biology lab, in just case it's needed for some reason in the future or desired. Include staples, other foods and maybe some luxuries like coffee.
[X][Probes] 2 Repair Drone, 3 Survey Probes and 3 Surface Probes
[X][Visit] Visit the equipment supplier, as well as look around the promenade. Might be some other things you want to purchase around the place.


Clearing the airlock, you float back towards the promenade, pulling your comm from your pocket. Flipping it on, you wait patiently for Shaw to respond, looking over the blocky form of the Guangzhou out the window.

"Shaw here, bosslady."

"Heyo." You respond. "So after the very spy-thriller-esque briefing, it seems we have two things. Care to guess what they are?"

"U.N. minders and a shipload of eggheads?" Shaw replies, grumping.

"A U.N. expense account, and two days to prep Hypothesis for a stay of nebulous length out in the Kuiper Belt." you correct, smirking.

Several solid seconds of silence greet you, followed by Shaw's voice, an unholy glee lacing her words. "When you say expense account…"

"Going to stock us up on amenities now. You, dearest Exec, get to go find us some drones and probes." You list off your planned complement - two repair drones, three-and-three survey and surface probes - and fiddle with your comms, uploading a station map to her comm. "I'll be sorting out our lab modules, plus some other stuff. You can update your porn collection after the serious stuff is done."

Grumbles filter through the link. "Fine, fine, I'll go do Serious Executive Things, then. You go sort our fancy sciencey stuff. I'm holding you to that porn collection thing, by the way."

"Get this done, and I'll give you the rest of the sol off precisely for that." you mutter, reaching the lifts - tapping your heels together, you anchor yourself to the floor and hit the Promenade button. "Now if you'll excuse me, I've got to see a man about a nerd."

Tucking your comm away, you ride down to the gravity ring in relative peace, contemplating. The ship has four science labs, all forward - but the foremost has direct access to the probe bay.

Probably Physics should go there, you decide, stepping out of the lift and making your way towards the University office nearby. Floating in the door, you bounce over to the receptionist - glancing up from his desk, he nods. "Commander MacKenzie, perchance?"

Blinking, you stare at him. "Yeah. How-"

Looking up, he smiles. "Lieutenant Bailey from the Guangzhou sent us the files on the ships going out on this mysterious expedition." He wiggles his fingers for emphasis. "Here to get your geeks and associated equipment?"

"I am, yes." you reply, settling down. "Lab modules for the ship, too, if I can."

"Fear not. The geeks come with their own equipment, and will even set it up themselves, if you point them at where they're supposed to be. Hang on, I'll call Doctor Feldssen." Tapping something into his interface, he nods towards the chairs nearby. "Take a seat, he'll be out shortly."

Doing just that, you pull out your comm again; flicking the holo up to full size, you browse through the station net, idly browsing. Time blurs, leaving you half-reading, half-pondering whatever happens across your mind.

"Excuse me, commander?"

The polite, accented voice snaps you out of your haze, drawing your attention to the old man standing nearby. You stare a brief moment; he is, frankly, the epitome of 'stereotypical grandpa'. Complete with woolen sweater, and faint, amused smile at your expense.

"Yes?" you reply belatedly. "Doctor Feldssen, I presume?"

"Indeed." he responds, holding out a hand; standing, you clasp it briefly, smiling.

"Freesia MacKenzie."

"Oh?" He arches an eyebrow. "Any relation to Alouette MacKenzie?"

"My mother." you reply, racking your brains - you're fairly sure mum never mentioned Cool Old Guy here. Probably. Maybe?

"Well. This should prove to be an… interesting trip." Surveying you with an air of friendly amusement, he nods towards the staff door. "I would introduce you, but the rest are in a bit of a tizzy, packing their equipment." An exasperated smile crosses his face. "I always tell them not to leave it for the last minute, and yet…"

"Herding ornery cats." you mutter, feeling a smile tugging at your lips as well.

"Quite so." He turns to the door. "Well, I should probably get everyone assembled and ensure they don't try to beat each other with microscopes or somesuch. Toodles."

Shaking your head, you pause long enough to confirm that the lab setups will be delivered to the ship, then head for the door.

<><><>​

The rest of the day passes in a blur; entertainment supplies are acquired, fuel topped off, execs fended off, and what few supplies you've used restocked. The off-shift finds you flat on your bunk (well, as flat as you can get in freefall), strong blankly at the ceiling.

Mostly out of boredom, you swipe your hand terminal off its stand and fire off a brief message to your mum.

FMacKenzie > do you know a professor feldssen perchance

In your rather drained state, you're very proud of spelling 'perchance' correctly. Hurrah.

AMacKenzie > Oui, he was one of the administration while I was the liaison to the university. Porquoi?
FMacKenzie > apparently he's riding herd on the eggheads i'm shipping out to neptune
AMacKenzie > Oh, mon petite fleur. I fear for your sanity.

You take a second to process that. He seemed fairly chill when you met him…

...then again, the old saying does note you should beware the quiet ones.

Despite your subsequent interrogatives, mum refuses to reply with anything but emoticons or irreverent memes. Giving up in frustration, you silently gripe about your tech-savvy parent; a meme-fluent mother was something to brag about as a kid, but as an adult, it was just embarrassing when she out-memed you.

Which she did. Often.

Ugh.

<><><>​

1st November, 2242
Near Neptune, Sol
11:52 CSST


"It's a rock."

"Well observed, Mister Reynolds." you deadpan, watching the visual feeds. "It is, indeed, a rock."

He is right - the object hanging four klicks off your starboard beam seems to be, from what anyone can tell, a rock. Ovoid, lumpy, dull grey, and generally rock-y.

"Doc is asking permission to deploy probes." O'Brien, your do-everything warrant officer, reports.

"Open the bay and let him do his thing. Give him a comms link to New Horizons so the team over there doesn't overlap too much."

O'Brien nods distractedly, working the controls; you settle back as the other Atlas-class in the flotilla opens its own probe bay, a pair of scan drones gently ejecting from their mounts.

And now, we play The Waiting Game.

[] Go up to the lab; there's not much to do there, but at least you can listen to the technobabble.
[] Open a link to one of the other ships - gods know the Captains' Link has been used mostly for idle chitchat on this trip.
[] Just take a surreptitious nap - Shaw will prod you if anything interesting happens.


This one fought me to hell and back. Waugh.

 

[FC Error]

[X] Just take a surreptitious nap - Shaw will prod you if anything interesting happens.

You tap Shaw on the shoulder. "Poke me if anything needs my attention?"

She nods to you. "Sure. Got some reading to do anyways, and it's looking like this'll be a while." she returns, gesturing as the repeater displays for the ship's many sensor arrays, all focused on The Rock.

"Ta." you murmur, checking your lap belt is on and closing your eyes.

<><><>​

What feels like only a few moments later, you're shaken awake. Cracking your eyes open, you sight on Shaw's uncharacteristically-serious visage in front of you. "Report."

"Geeks did something." she states flatly. "Doctor Feld-whatever is going on about magnetic fields and exotic particles and such. Guangzhou's signalled all ships to back off to a hundred klicks; Reynolds has us moving now."

Blinking yourself to full wakefulness, you scan the displays; sure enough, Hypothesis is backing off from the asteroid (which is fairly glowing on the IR and EM readouts) and falling into formation with the rest of the task force.

"How long have I been out?" you ask under your breath.

"Two hours." Shaw replies flatly. "I honestly did not know the geek squad could fuck things up that fast."

"We're out here to poke the rock." you note. "We poked it. It's doing stuff. I'm not sure we can truthfully call this fucking u-"

You're cut off as everyone is abruptly yanked towards the deck; swearing, you glance at the engine readouts - cold. "Reynolds, wha-"

A mild sense of aggravation overtakes you as the ship yanks you towards the deck again in a sharp jerk, shoving you into your seat - Shaw nearly falls, catching herself on her acceleration couch as the other bridge crew start cursing.

A look at the navigational displays indicated why - they have, in brief, gone haywire. Nonsensical and flatly-impossible numbers flash past, updating rapidly, seemingly providing entirely random outputs -

All, you note, except radar and ladar, both displaying the other ships still arranged in formation, seemingly unmoving.

"al Fassi." you call to the systems officer. "Sensor diagnostic?"

"Running." he reports, shakily. You can hardly blame him; your accelerometer is displaying a number in the 12,000 region - which seems somewhat unlikely. Angular velocity is jittering between zero and a figure high enough to turn the ship into a debris field; only the active sensor readouts remain stable(ish).

"Commander, this is Doctor Feldssen." the comm panel next to you relays. "I think you'd best come to the observation deck."

You glance at al Fassi; he shrugs. "System scan will take a few minutes." he says quietly, glancing between his own screens and the navigational displays.

You exchange a Look with Shaw on the way out. "I'll try to contact the rest of the ships - if it's just our gear, they can pass us telemetry." she notes, moving to do just that.

Acknowledging, you move to the ladder at the rear of the bridge - shutting off your magboots, you kick off, sailing up the shaft towards the bow and observation lounge.

Pulling yourself to a stop on Deck 2, you open the hatch and push off down the hall, ponder why, precisely, the Chief Geek wanted you up here - only to have that train of thought neatly derailed by the view out the windows as your glide through the hatch into the lounge.

"I had thought the universe had been running out of ways to surprise me." Feldssen comments distantly, staring out at the view. "Good to know I can still be proven wrong."

"I suppose that's one way of looking at it." The calm in your tone comes as a surprise; you almost feel like this is just a bizarre dream. Reaching out, you punch the bulkhead and wince - okay, no, not dreaming.

"Commander, bridge." Shaw's voice filters through the intercom near the door. "Everyone else reports the same problems we have - whatever it is, it's not just our issue."

"Do you still have external cameras?" you ask, not taking your eyes off the windows.

"We do." your XO replies, almost a question. "What's outside to look at aaaaaane fuck me running." she continues in the same tone.

"Yeah." you say, still taking in the swirling mass of colours beyond the hull. "That's one way of putting it."

Blinking, you pull yourself together. "Guangzhou got any instructions beyond 'unfuck yourselves and wait', perchance?"

"None yet." comes the answer. "Everyone's trimming their formation from radar data, but at this point we can't do much but wait."

No sooner have those words reached your ears, the tunnel of light encompassing your ships collapses, vanishing in a swirl of dizzying illumination. You blink, staring out at at normal space once more - no. Not normal, your brain informs you; there's no stars.

"I'm on my way back down." you inform Shaw, and push off, suiting actions to words.

<><><>​

"We're in a box." Reynolds reports, pointing at the readouts. "About twenty by twenty by maybe ten klicks; one end looks to have some sort of hatch or door over it, the other is a flat surface, but that's the direction we came from."

"Perhaps a gateway or the like, then, given our recent… jaunt." Feldssen muses from the back of the command deck. "Has there been any reaction to our arrival?"

"Not that we can tell." al Fassi answers. "No movement, no changes to radar reflections, nothing on cameras - spotlights are just telling us that the walls are mostly unmarked and there's no other obvious entry points."

"Do we have any idea what that lightshow was yet?" you ask, glancing at the doctor. He shrugs helplessly.

"Ideas? Plenty. Any actual certainty? No. For now we're thinking it's some form of superluminal transit - given that no spaceborne structure of this scale exists anywhere within Sol, it's rather doubtful that we're still in the Solar System."

"Swell." you mutter, repressing your unease at that statement. "Anything from the others?"

"Not really." Reynolds replies, scanning the sensor readouts. "More of the same; Guangzhou is launching some probes, to take a closer look."

"We have a spectroscopic laser in the bow, right?" Shaw asks the room at large. "Do we want to try and zap one of the walls and see what happens?"

Looks and shrugs are exchanged throughout the bridge. "Call Guangzhou and run it past them." you instruct Reynolds, who nods, turning to his console. Bringing up the ladar display on your own panel, you eye the hologram floating in front of you; as Reynolds said, it's a box; only the faint indentation on the surface in front of the task force - looking rather like the seam in a hatch - mars the otherwise-smooth surface.

"Navy pukes say go for it." the helm officer reports a moment later. You nod to Shaw, who begins working the laser controls.

A half-minute later, she whistles. "I'm no mat-sci expert, but that's sure as shit not steel."

Feldssen, moving to look over her shoulder, hmms. "No, it is not. Almost reminiscent of titanium… but this suggests some rather exotic materials alloyed in, if that is the case."

"Pipe all that to the rest of our merry band." you cut in. "And prep one of our probes for launch."

"May want to put a hold on that for a moment, commander." Reynolds returns. "Our resident battlewagon is asking for a scientific opinion - they want to try putting a torpedo into one of the walls, to see what happens."

Feldssen pulls off his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Of course they want to shoot it."

You consider the question; the laser produced no reaction and not much immediately-useful information.

[] Go for it - advise the destroyer to take the shot. If nothing else, it'll tell you if opening that large hatch forcefully is an option or not.

[] Hold off - just because there's no sign of life doesn't mean it's not there, and the locals - assuming they're present - probably won't react well to being shot at.

[] I dunno lol - leave it up to the Navy pukes and the proper eggheads.

_____________

Woohoo update. Pls forgive shitty prose

Also expect somewhat more frequent updates to this; clearer schedule and a hefty dose of insomnia should let me get this moving again. Hopefully.

Spoiler: Ships in the task force

 

[FC Error]

[X] Hold off - just because there's no sign of life doesn't mean it's not there, and the locals - assuming they're present - probably won't react well to being shot at.


"No?" you query the world at large. "No works for me. No need to, you know, shotgun the hinges off the door because nobody answered the first knock."

Reynolds throws a look at you over his shoulder. "Should I couch that in… slightly more diplomatic terms, commander?"

"Please." you return, eyes on the spectrographic readout. You're only mildly more knowledgeable about metallurgy than Shaw, but the data on screen still may as well be Greek to you; Feldssen's comment about titanium seems right, but the rest of it is, for the moment, magic.

"If we're not going to shoot it, though, what else can we do, beyond maybe trying to get some material samples or somesuch?" Shaw asks you, neatly derailing your train of thought. You pause, considering the question a moment.

"Mister Reynolds, are there any other features of note on the structure? Hatches, airlocks, whatever, on either passive or active systems?"

"Not that I saw, but I'll run it again." he answers, working his console. A moment later, he frowns at something, leaning forward. "Maybe. Thirty-four degree starboard, inclination negative twenty. Doctor?"

Feldssen obligingly looks over the man's shoulder, scanning the assorted readouts. "I see it. There's a small portion of the surface slightly warmer than the rest; perhaps a few degrees. Fairly easy to miss, even with this sensor suite."

"Pipe that to the Navy pukes and send one of our probes that way." you order, pushing off from your chair and attaching yourself to the ceiling, reading Reynolds' displays as he and Feldssen comb over the sensor readouts.

<><><>​

"An airlock." Captain Greene repeats, sounding mildly interested. "Well, that does sound promising. How much of a geek squad can we put together to go take a look?"

"I can probably get together six or so." James Chun, from the fleet's other Atlas-class, offers.

"I can do about the same, I think." you answer, glancing at Feldssen; he nods, and moves towards the ladder.

"Alright. Prep them - full suits and whatever kit they care to drag along - and shuttle them to that airlock in an hour. I'll send a team of Espatiers in first to make sure it's at least mostly safe about ten minutes before that, just in case. Anything else?"

You and Chun both reply negatively, and both sign off the Captains' Link with the UN officer. Turning to Shaw, you stand, anchoring yourself with a hand on the seatback. "Prep shuttle one? I'll go herd the geeks."

She nods, issuing the relevant orders to al Fassi as you snag an earpiece from the rack near the hatch, floating your way up the ladder towards the labs. A thankfully brief minute of nerd-herding later, you reverse course, heading for the shuttle lock.

Some time later, you're watching one of the undergrads wrestle with his suit with considerable amusement when Shaw sticks her head through the hatch. "Blue-hats shuttle just launched; ten minute warning."

Nodding, you float over to the flustered student and assist in untangling the mess he's made of… everything, really, half-listening to the chatter of the bridge crew in your earpiece.

"Huh. Alright, that's new."

You raise a mental eyebrow at al Fassi's unhelpful commentary. Nudging your comm against your shoulder, you inquire, "Expand upon that, Ops?"

"UN shuttle apparently tripped a motion sensor; some sort of neon sign-looking holo just popped up next to the airlock."

"The leathernecks shot at it yet?"

"Surprisingly, no." he returns. "Alien moonrunes or something… alright, they've got the airlock open. That was fast."

"On my way to the bridge." you note, cutting the link. Offering a wry grin to the rather chagrined undergrad (now in spacesuit clad), you kick off, returning to the command deck.

<><><>​

Settling once more into your chair, you bring up the feed from the bow camera - zoomed in on the airlock - and indeed, what looks for all the world like a holographic neon sign floats beside it - the destroyer's shuttle holding station nearby as the troopers slowly float across the gap.

"Navy is piping comms and helmet cameras to us and New Horizons." Reynolds informs you, putting the indicated feeds up on a nearby display.

Vaguely surprising, for some reason, is the sheer… unremarkable design of the airlock. Alien text aside, it wouldn't look particularly out of place at Shiva or Tiara stations - some things are apparently universal. The soldiers pile in without incident, making sure to pan their cameras around liberally.

One of the troopers pauses, examining a panel near the door. Tapping it, the previously-unlit airlock is bathed in a purple glow; accompanied by the outer door sliding shut.

"Found the cycle button." the Espatier in question points out helpfully.

"Next time, ask before pressing buttons." grumps another voice; the airlock's lights flick to a cool blue, and the inner door slides open smoothly, revealing a long hallway, with several other corridors branching off at regular intervals to the left and right.

"Idle query; if the place still has power, why was there no response to any of our ships arriving or spamming EM emissions?" the button-presser asks the world at large.

"That's… actually a pretty good question." you note, glancing up at your bridge crew. Reynolds shrugs, but al Fassi frowns thoughtfully.

"We haven't moved, really… and the outer airlock hatch opened for the leathernecks when they moved towards it. Maybe the, uh, larger door works similarly?"

"...could be." Reynolds notes. "Why didn't it react to any of the probes, though?"

al Fassi shrugs. "Too small? Not enough thermal or EM output? Didn't say the magic word? No clue."

You ponder this a moment, eyes flicking back and forth between the Espatiers' helmet cameras and your own ship's sensor readouts.

[] Relay al Fassi's theory to Guangzhou and suggest one of the group's ships approach the outer door - cautiously.

[] First things first - let the gank squad check the area around the airlock and give the high-forehead types time to look things over before anything else.

[] Why not both? Suggests the science teams head out now and have a ship make a pass at the door while they're working.

_______________

Bit of a short one today, but I'm angling for a better update rate. Low bar to set, I know, but still.

 

[FC Error]

[X] First things first - let the gank squad check the area around the airlock and give the high-forehead types time to look things over before anything else.

You opt to remain silent and let the gank squad continue on, moving up carefully as the corridor curves away to the right. Faced shortly thereafter with another door, the button-presser at least has the decency to wait for the team leader's 'go' signal before indulging this time, the hatch sliding silently open. On the far side is an airy, open room with large window on one wall; as the team moves in and fans out, you note the task group's ships are visible, floating in space.

"Is that a screen on the right, or a one-way mirror, or somesuch?" you inquire, glancing at the ship's cameras; the wall around the airlock looks entirely featureless, with no indication of an observation deck or the like.

Reynolds mutters something into the comm net, prompting an espatier to carefully advance towards the screen/window/thing and pan his helmet camera around. "No visible controls, no pixelation even up close - could go either way, but I'm inclined to say one-way window."

"Neat material." you opine as the leathernecks move on, stacking up near the only other hatch in the room, at the far end of the long observation deck.

"Bridge, Shuttle one is ready to launch." comes the somewhat-belated report from the skiff bay.

Prodding your intercom controls, you open a link to the shuttle. "Shuttle one clear to undock. Try not to wreck the paint job."

Shaw raises an eyebrow in your direction as the skiff pushes off and glides away on translation thrusters, joining New Horizons' somewhat weathered-looking twin. You spare a moment to return Shaw's raised brow before re-focusing on the feed from the espatiers, now through the next hatch and paused at a T-junction in the corridor.

You glance sidelong at Reynolds, ex-leatherneck that he is, as the team has a brief conversation comprised almost entirely of jargon and odd gestures before splitting into two groups and proceeding onwards, each taking one of the two available paths.

al Fassi switches the main screen to a split view, letting you comfortably track both teams' progress as the radar display indicates the two geek squad shuttles have arrived at the airlock, braking gently to a relative halt. You watch the Espatiers' cameras, arching an eyebrow at what looks for all the world like a large neon sign hanging from the ceiling.

The second team finds their way blocked by another door - though after some brief fiddling, it yields just as easily as the airlock. They continue in, finding another observation room - this one facing something other than the inside of the box. You blink and lean forwards as the camera pans across the large window. You're saved asking the grunt to keep his camera pointed that way when the team pauses, staring out at the newly-revealed scenery.

"Well. That probably explains why we've not met a welcome party." Feldssen notes dryly, eyes glued to the display. Dimly, you agree; visible out the window is what can only be the rest of the station; a huge - no, you muse, 'colossal' is a better term - structure, crescent-shaped; or it was, at least.

A sizable chunk of the sand-coloured facility seems to be missing; wreckage and structural members floating in a cloud near one end of the crescent. Several shapes, a bit too regular to be wreckage, also float in the debris cloud - ships, maybe?

You're pulled out of your reverie by Shaw swearing quietly. Turning to her, you freeze as she enlarges a portion of the image - a hatch, or hangar door, or similar - one with a clearly-visible '07' prominently painted on it.

"What the hells?" you murmur, trying to wrap your head around it. Numbers - Arabic numerals - on a long-dead space station, who knows how far from Earth…

A beep brings you back to reality - Guangzhou opening the Captains' Link. Hitting ACCEPT, you sit back in your chair as Captain Greene's voice comes through. "Well. This… explains nothing, and raises even more questions. In the interest of not just sitting and not getting answers, Guangzhou will approach the door to our front and see if it will open without intervention. The Espatiers will continue searching the facility's interior - team leaders, no more than ten minutes' walk from the airlock you entered. Understood?"

"Understood, Captain." the platoon commander responds crisply, waving at his team to get moving again. Directing a Significant Look at Shaw, you hit your push-to-talk.

"Captain Greene, should the rest of us recall our teams for now, or continue as they were?"

A brief pause ensues as the UNSA officer considers. "Hold for now. If the door does open, we'll see about moving the task force out into open space - if nothing else, mapping the exterior of this station might give us some idea as to what it is, and why we got dragged here."

The other captains return acknowledgements as the destroyer creeps forwards on reaction thrusters, gliding away from formation. The bridge seems to collectively hold its breath as the ship approaches the far wall - you see Reynolds twitch as Guangzhou begins slowing, still several klicks from the surface - only to exhale as one when a seam appears, growing wider as the large door slides slowly open.

"Well, that answers that." you note idly, watching unfamiliar stars appear as the UN ship continues creeping forwards. Shaw snorts.

"Now I just feel like we should have done that from the word go."

<><><>​

"Bluntly? We have no idea where we're at." Reynolds informs you some twenty minutes later. "None of these stars are recognizable, nor the pattern; we've been trying to triangulate with pulsars, but none of the few we've spotted match known frequencies. We could be anywhere from the far side of the galaxy to the arse end of the universe."

"Less than encouraging, that." you admit, eyes glued to the visual feeds - the task force has fanned out, recording everything possible of the exterior of the station. The sheer scale of the thing is still hard to believe - al Fassi notes that were a significant chunk not missing, it would just about break two hundred klicks in length. You haven't even tried to speculate the mass.

"It's not all bad news. Reynolds returns, a half-smirk forming on his face. "There's patterns etched on the station's hull that we've been able to match to constellations visible from here - with only a couple of exceptions. The two centre bays - the one we arrived from, and the one adjacent left - both have pulsar maps - al Fassi," he nods to the man in question, "recognized our own arrival point as the one etched on the Voyager golden records. The other, naturally, we haven't a clue."

"And the boarding teams?" Shaw queries, eyeing the holotank; a model of the station rotates slowly therein, updating every now and then at the ships share ladar data.

"Nothing much; observation rooms with seats, what look like storage rooms or cargo bays, one control room of some sort; overlooked the arrival bay, so maybe some sort of ATC-equivalent. Geeks are looking into things, but what with the not-knowing-the-language, it's slow going."

"Alright. So the question is, now what?" Shaw turns to you, eyebrow raising. You ponder a moment, gaze sliding over to the holotank.

[] Send a probe to poke the debris field - ladar shows what are almost certainly ships in there, and some data on those can't hurt.
[] Join the geek squad - the Espatiers have found nothing more threatening than some free-floating dust, so Greene cleared Captains to go aboard.
[] Try and get some physical samples of the station's hull - whatever the material is, it seems to have caught Feldssen's attention quite effectively.


Extreme-super-ultra-late-update!