Log 05: Cloak and Space Dagger
FC Error
Missileer
- Location
- Aware of where I am not
[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.
-[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.
