Precision Malfesense IC - Shiny

[TheAmishPirate]

People don't appreciate the substance of things. Objects in space. People miss out on what's solid.
-Jubal Early

STARRING
Mrs. Rebecca Snow the Battlebabe
Jane Amethyst Rose the Savvyhead
Willow Skaro the Skinner
Mr Harold Hall the Driver
Aeron the Brainer

OOC Thread

Spoiler: The Souls Aboard the Neruda

Show

(or at least the NPCs anyhow)

Crew

Thomas Chen - Relief Pilot, miscellaneous assistant, wiry and excitable
Unnamed - A chef.
Unnamed - An operations/cargo manager.
Unnamed - Security person
Ollie Anders - Engine assistant, competence plagued with laziness
Unnamed - Engine Assistant #2
Unnamed - Engine Assistant #3

Passengers

Mr. James Snow - Rebecca's father, a sweet and charming old scientist who's senility is causing him to forget his scientific ethics.
Mrs. Olga Snow - Rebecca's mother, an evil old hag who does not appreciate the decline in her living conditions.
Mr. Tom Snow - Rebecca's trophy husband - he's very pretty, very charming but very shallow and not used to being poor.
Justin Dober - Rebecca's creepily devoted secretary, who makes up for inexperience with obsessive behavior.

[TheAmishPirate]

In a sky full of stars, how do you find the sun?

It is said the people of Earth-That-Was set their clocks by daylight. Wherever you traveled, you woke with the sun, your shadow vanished at noon, and you fell asleep with the moon. So enamored with the day were they that they would conspire to all push their clocks forward, and spend a few minutes more in the light.

Now we have more suns than we know what to do with. This planet has one, this world has two, and every boat carries its own on their back. None of them ever agree - suns are temperamental and argumentative by nature - but this does not stop the Alliance. By their decree, all suns have made peace, the time is 0840 hours, and your morning news broadwave is next. Maybe one of these is useful to a Captain. On a good day.

The Neruda carries a sun with her too, though it has set for now. The black's chill creeps a little further through the hull, the lights carry a little shorter. All are in their bunks, waiting for the ship's dawn to rouse them. But this night, dawn will not come for them.

BWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARNNNNNNNNNNNNN

The proximity alarm will.

The klaxon blares throughout the ship, harsh and unyielding. It rings through every room, every hold, every ear, every nook and cranny of your poor, unsuspecting brain. The message is clear; something big, something near.

What do you do?

Oh, and when you're jolted awake, before your sensibilities catch up with you, what's the first, worst thing you think must be coming for you?

[Thanqol]

"I knew it!" said Mrs. Snow, sitting up sharp in Willow's bed. "This crumbling garbage scow is breaking apart! I knew nothing this ugly could be safe!" She continued grumbling as she hastily gathered and applied her clothes and picked up that mysterious silver briefcase she carried everywhere. In moments she was ready, looking professional though slightly windswept. "Well? You coming?"

[Anarion]

Proximity alarm sounding like that out of the blue? I rubbed my bleary eyes from a night spent in the engine room trying to find the loose gasket on the fuel ignition for back engine number 2. My hands left grease stains like spectacles around my eyelids. This can't have been natural, sensors would have picked it up and alerted us with less disruption way earlier. Either we're about to run into some debris that's got its own rockets or a ship just jumped into system right on top of us. My worst fear is that nobody's paying attention and we're about to ram an Alliance frigate and get ourselves hauled to jail for life.

[BlasTech]

Blood, screams and gnashing teeth.

Hall jolts awake, his hand going instinctively to his pistol. It closes around the cool metal just in time for Harold to realize that he's run out of bed to lie on, sending him tumbling to the floor in a twist of blankets and pissed off old man. By the time he's pulled himself free of the mess, rational thought is catching up. They're too far out of reaver space right now. It's not likely to be them. Working down the list, Harold settles somewhere around pirates or alliance as the most likely headaches of the day.

Zhe shi hen duo gou shi.

Muttering to himself, he pulls his shirt on whilst smacking the intercom with his other hand.

"Chen!" he yells, addressing the night-shift pilot. "What the Diyu is going on up there?"

[Anarion]

"Chen!" he yells, addressing the night-shift pilot. "What the Diyu is going on up there?"

Chen would be getting a second message up from engineering with pretty much the same content right about now. I need to know if somebody is about to ask me to supercharge the engines too.

[Elanorin]

"I knew it!" said Mrs. Snow, sitting up sharp in Willow's bed. "This crumbling garbage scow is breaking apart! I knew nothing this ugly could be safe!" She continued grumbling as she hastily gathered and applied her clothes and picked up that mysterious silver briefcase she carried everywhere. In moments she was ready, looking professional though slightly windswept. "Well? You coming?"

Willow gasped at the chill air suddenly washing over her skin as the covers got yanked off. She sighed a soft sigh and smiled patiently as she watched Rebecca get dressed in a hastened flurry of fabrics, boots and that infernal suitcase. She eventually sat up and reached for an elegant yet simple gown which would not take too long to put on, and began securing it in place, followed by her hair. She wasn't rushing like Rebecca but she wasn't taking her time either. It is true the alarm was concerning but it's not as if there was much she could do about it other than stay out of the way of those with more applicable skills.

It would be prudent to be dressed however.

"I think the most helpful thing we can do is to stay out of Harold's way, to be honest." And then, with a admonishing frown; "and I'd appreciate it if you don't talk like that around Jane, please."

[TheAmishPirate]

Muttering to himself, he pulls his shirt on whilst smacking the intercom with his other hand.

"Chen!" he yells, addressing the night-shift pilot. "What the Diyu is going on up there?"

Chen would be getting a second message up from engineering with pretty much the same content right about now. I need to know if somebody is about to ask me to supercharge the engines too.

So you keep a night pilot? It's not every ship that does. Some folk trust the ship's computers to keep them on course through the night, but there's reasons enough to keep a man at the wheel at all hours. Like things that go bump in the dark, that's a good reason.

There's a mighty rattling on the intercom, and Chen finds his voice. "Alliance, Captain! Lao tien fu, they came out of nowhere!"

"I knew it!" said Mrs. Snow, sitting up sharp in Willow's bed. "This crumbling garbage scow is breaking apart! I knew nothing this ugly could be safe!" She continued grumbling as she hastily gathered and applied her clothes and picked up that mysterious silver briefcase she carried everywhere. In moments she was ready, looking professional though slightly windswept. "Well? You coming?"

Willow gasped at the chill air suddenly washing over her skin as the covers got yanked off. She sighed a soft sigh and smiled patiently as she watched Rebecca get dressed in a hastened flurry of fabrics, boots and that infernal suitcase. She eventually sat up and reached for an elegant yet simple gown which would not take too long to put on, and began securing it in place, followed by her hair. She wasn't rushing like Rebecca but she wasn't taking her time either. It is true the alarm was concerning but it's not as if there was much she could do about it other than stay out of the way of those with more applicable skills.

It would be prudent to be dressed however.

"I think the most helpful thing we can do is to stay out of Harold's way, to be honest." And then, with a admonishing frown; "and I'd appreciate it if you don't talk like that around Jane, please."

As the two of you get dressed, you hear something over the proximity alarm, twice as shrill and equally persistent:

"Rebeccaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa! Rebeccaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!"

Ah, yes. That would be Mr. Snow, looking for his wayward wife. Where did you tell him you were again?

[Anarion]

Oh god, oh god, oh god, why was I right? Why did I have to be right? I don't want to be right? Oh god. Okay, okay, engine is buzzing and humming, she can get us out of here if we can get a lead on them. But how in sam hell are we ever gonna get that?

I'm racing upstairs to the cockpit, hoping I can at least get a look at them. I'm sure I run into Ms. Snow and her entourage on the way up, and when I see her, first thing I do is shout. "Why in tarnation did you bring them here, Snow!? That ship will blow the whole lot of us to bits if it wants."

[BlasTech]

So you keep a night pilot? It's not every ship that does. Some folk trust the ship's computers to keep them on course through the night, but there's reasons enough to keep a man at the wheel at all hours. Like things that go bump in the dark, that's a good reason.

There's a mighty rattling on the intercom, and Chen finds his voice. "Alliance, Captain! Lao tien fu, they came out of nowhere!"

Course he keeps a night pilot. He's way too old and untrusting like of machines to let it run on its own.

"Hold course, I'll be up in a minute." he replied, after a moment's pause. An approach like that probably meant that it wasn't a routine patrol. Which either meant that the alliance already suspected something was up. Or ... well, he was already at a bad scenario, no sense ruminatin and makin it worse.

As the two of you get dressed, you hear something over the proximity alarm, twice as shrill and equally persistent:

"Rebeccaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa! Rebeccaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!"

Ah, yes. That would be Mr. Snow, looking for his wayward wife. Where did you tell him you were again?

"Who the ..." he growled, before tugging his jacket on the rest of the way. A few bounds later and he was on the bridge.

"Chen, give me visual. What are we looking at here?" he ordered.

[Thanqol]

Willow gasped at the chill air suddenly washing over her skin as the covers got yanked off. She sighed a soft sigh and smiled patiently as she watched Rebecca get dressed in a hastened flurry of fabrics, boots and that infernal suitcase. She eventually sat up and reached for an elegant yet simple gown which would not take too long to put on, and began securing it in place, followed by her hair. She wasn't rushing like Rebecca but she wasn't taking her time either. It is true the alarm was concerning but it's not as if there was much she could do about it other than stay out of the way of those with more applicable skills.

It would be prudent to be dressed however.

"I think the most helpful thing we can do is to stay out of Harold's way, to be honest." And then, with a admonishing frown; "and I'd appreciate it if you don't talk like that around Jane, please."

"Harold. The only thing as old as that man is his damn ship," muttered Mrs. Snow, hastily combing her hair into place with her fingers. "Jane's the one with the greasy face, right?"

As the two of you get dressed, you hear something over the proximity alarm, twice as shrill and equally persistent:

"Rebeccaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa! Rebeccaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!"

Ah, yes. That would be Mr. Snow, looking for his wayward wife. Where did you tell him you were again?

I told him I was taking care of my dear old mother, of course. It's the perfect excuse because he's too terrified of her to ever go and check on me.

Mrs. Snow snorts a little at his wailing and holds the door open for Willow even though she's evidently set to start rushing out of this place.

[Anarion]

"Jane's the one with the greasy face, right?"

Yep. The one that's shouting right at you when you reach the bridge.

[Elanorin]

"Harold. The only thing as old as that man is his damn ship," muttered Mrs. Snow, hastily combing her hair into place with her fingers. "Jane's the one with the greasy face, right?"

"You're always such a delight in the morning," Willow said with a quick reproachful glance Rebecca's way and put the last pin in her hair.

As the two of you get dressed, you hear something over the proximity alarm, twice as shrill and equally persistent:

"Rebeccaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa! Rebeccaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!"

Ah, yes. That would be Mr. Snow, looking for his wayward wife. Where did you tell him you were again?

Mrs. Snow snorts a little at his wailing and holds the door open for Willow even though she's evidently set to start rushing out of this place.

Willow looks up at the wailing on the intercom, throws another glance at Rebecca to the effect of 'you should see to that' and then follows her out the door, but as she's not rushing she soon falls behind and is quite content in doing so.

Yep. The one that's shouting right at you when you reach the bridge.

So the yelling is well under way then by the time Willow arrives to the bridge.

"Good morning," she smiles a very quick smile, "are we facing another imminent doom?" Willow makes sure to keep to the back and out of the way of everyone and tiptoes to catch a glance at the displays to see what's going on.

[BlasTech]

So the yelling is well under way then by the time Willow arrives to the bridge.

"Good morning," she smiles a very quick smile, "are we facing another imminent doom?" Willow makes sure to keep to the back and out of the way of everyone and tiptoes to catch a glance at the displays to see what's going on.

"Surely are." replied Harold, briefly turning away from the scanner screens as the passengers arrived.

"Ladies. Could you all be a'kindly not yellin' on the bridge? Already got one screamer in our speakers, don't need more."

[Anarion]

"Aye aye sir" I say, a little sheepishly. Probably was the wrong time to be hollering at someone. Least we hadn't rammed them, after all. "So, what's the plan?"

[TheAmishPirate]

I told him I was taking care of my dear old mother, of course. It's the perfect excuse because he's too terrified of her to ever go and check on me.

Well then, I'm sure he'll have a grand time figuring that one out. Let's look back to the bridge, shall we?

"Who the ..." he growled, before tugging his jacket on the rest of the way. A few bounds later and he was on the bridge.

"Chen, give me visual. What are we looking at here?" he ordered.

Chen's a wiry fella, the kind you could fold into a ball without causing any lasting harm. As you all walk in, he's frantically juggling the scanners, the helm, and a rapidly-approaching panic attack. "Working on it, Captain..." He lunges out, mashes a few buttons, and the screens hum to life:

Spoiler: On-Screen

Show

Alliance patrol boat. Akita-class. One of the smaller ships of the "could swat you like a fly" category. Relatively small crew, likely a few fighter ships ready to deploy, and packing a suite of missiles and a nasty 20-pounder autocannon. They usually deal in customs enforcement, search-and-rescue, and, oh yeah, anti-smuggling patrols.

"We're bearing down on them, starboard side. Haven't changed course yet. Haven't hailed us. Haven't done anything and gorram it, where'd they even come from?!"

[Thanqol]

"You're always such a delight in the morning," Willow said with a quick reproachful glance Rebecca's way and put the last pin in her hair.

"And you are delightful in the evening, now shall we escape this collapsing pile of - oh, good morning Captain," said Mrs. Snow.

Spoiler: On-Screen

Show

Alliance patrol boat. Akita-class. One of the smaller ships of the "could swat you like a fly" category. Relatively small crew, likely a few fighter ships ready to deploy, and packing a suite of missiles and a nasty 20-pounder autocannon. They usually deal in customs enforcement, search-and-rescue, and, oh yeah, anti-smuggling patrols.

"We're bearing down on them, starboard side. Haven't changed course yet. Haven't hailed us. Haven't done anything and gorram it, where'd they even come from?!"

"Is there a reason why you have not immediately cut your engines and surrendered to the heavily armed patrol cruiser?" snapped Mrs. Snow.

[Anarion]

"Is there a reason why you have not immediately cut your engines and surrendered to the heavily armed patrol cruiser?" snapped Mrs. Snow.

"Hate to say it, but Snow has a point. I'd prefer not getting vaporized to start the day, Captain."

[BlasTech]

"And you are delightful in the evening, now shall we escape this collapsing pile of - oh, good morning Captain," said Mrs. Snow.



"Is there a reason why you have not immediately cut your engines and surrendered to the heavily armed patrol cruiser?" snapped Mrs. Snow.

"Well, typically I like to be asked to surrender first. Gives the whole thing an act of officialness." retorted Harold. "S'far, all I'm getting over the airwaves is your name."

He reached over, detaching a microphone from the console and opening the intership comm.

"Alliance ship, this is transport Neruda." he said. "We are cutting speed and standing by for instructions."

[Thanqol]

"Hate to say it, but Snow has a point. I'd prefer not getting vaporized to start the day, Captain."

"Yes, listen to grease-face," affirmed Mrs. Snow.

"Well, typically I like to be asked to surrender first. Gives the whole thing an act of officialness." retorted Harold. "S'far, all I'm getting over the airwaves is your name."

He reached over, detaching a microphone from the console and opening the intership comm.

"Alliance ship, this is transport Neruda." he said. "We are cutting speed and standing by for instructions."

While Harold waits on a response, Mrs. Snow picks the microphone out of his hand, switches to the ship's internal frequency and says "Tom! Be silent or I shall make you silent." She irritably flicked it back to external frequencies and handed it back to Harold.

[Elanorin]

"Surely are." replied Harold, briefly turning away from the scanner screens as the passengers arrived.

Willow flashed him a smile in reply that was only a bit worried.

"Yes, listen to grease-face," affirmed Mrs. Snow.

Mrs Snow would find herself on the receiving end of an elbow jab at that.

While Harold waits on a response, Mrs. Snow picks the microphone out of his hand, switches to the ship's internal frequency and says "Tom! Be silent or I shall make you silent." She irritably flicked it back to external frequencies and handed it back to Harold.

"Whoever said romance was dead?" Willow muttered to herself with obvious sarcasm.

[TheAmishPirate]

While Harold waits on a response, Mrs. Snow picks the microphone out of his hand, switches to the ship's internal frequency and says "Tom! Be silent or I shall make you silent." She irritably flicked it back to external frequencies and handed it back to Harold.

The shouting stops, completely and immediately. There is a shuffling on the other line, not unlike the sound of a hapless husband tugging a radio out of the pocket he'd left it in. A breath, silence, another breath, and the line cuts out.

"Well, typically I like to be asked to surrender first. Gives the whole thing an act of officialness." retorted Harold. "S'far, all I'm getting over the airwaves is your name."

He reached over, detaching a microphone from the console and opening the intership comm.

"Alliance ship, this is transport Neruda." he said. "We are cutting speed and standing by for instructions."

You're hardly done transmitting when the patrol boat veers suddenly in your direction. A sharp voice snaps over the comms: "Transport Neruda, this is the I.A.V. Fielding. You are ordered to release control of your helm, and stand by for boarding."

Chen flicks some switches, and you're slowing to a crawl. His hands are off the helm, the patrol boat is headed your way, and you have five minutes before a troop of the Alliance's finest are taking a tour of your lovely boat.

What do you do?

[Thanqol]

Mrs Snow would find herself on the receiving end of an elbow jab at that.

"Whoever said romance was dead?" Willow muttered to herself with obvious sarcasm.

"Oh please," said Mrs. Snow, "wasn't it you who told me, 'romance is my day job'?"

You're hardly done transmitting when the patrol boat veers suddenly in your direction. A sharp voice snaps over the comms: "Transport Neruda, this is the I.A.V. Fielding. You are ordered to release control of your helm, and stand by for boarding."

Chen flicks some switches, and you're slowing to a crawl. His hands are off the helm, the patrol boat is headed your way, and you have five minutes before a troop of the Alliance's finest are taking a tour of your lovely boat.

What do you do?

Mrs. Snow's hand twitched. She felt a thousand tiny pinpricks along it, felt the flesh swirl and warp, felt her fingernails lengthen and harden. It was reacting to something, something like it, and Snow let the strange blood-sense pound through her body as the Alliance ship approached.

Open Your Brain: 10; I want to know about what weird alien stuff is going on in that ship. Remember you can ask me questions before/as you answer.

[TheAmishPirate]

Mrs. Snow's hand twitched. She felt a thousand tiny pinpricks along it, felt the flesh swirl and warp, felt her fingernails lengthen and harden. It was reacting to something, something like it, and Snow let the strange blood-sense pound through her body as the Alliance ship approached.

Open Your Brain: 10; I want to know about what weird alien stuff is going on in that ship. Remember you can ask me questions before/as you answer.

Willow's standing right next to you. She looks your way, what's she going to see as all this is happening?

[BlasTech]

You're hardly done transmitting when the patrol boat veers suddenly in your direction. A sharp voice snaps over the comms: "Transport Neruda, this is the I.A.V. Fielding. You are ordered to release control of your helm, and stand by for boarding."

Chen flicks some switches, and you're slowing to a crawl. His hands are off the helm, the patrol boat is headed your way, and you have five minutes before a troop of the Alliance's finest are taking a tour of your lovely boat.

What do you do?

"Acknowledged. Ventral docking port standing by."

Hall put the receiver down, considering. On the one hand, they're not hauling any contraband. Well, besides the Snows, but the liklihood of a person looking for that lot out here was pretty thin.

I'm the other hand, there was something about the patrol ships actions that were off. Hall had been stopped by many a patrol boat, but rarely was it a case where he was the one doing the initial hailing.

Something wasn't right here, but what?

[Read a sitch]?

[Thanqol]

Willow's standing right next to you. She looks your way, what's she going to see as all this is happening?

Well, Mrs. Snow is wearing gloves to cover the fact that weird, multicoloured bird-of-paradise feathers are sprouting from her hand and the veins along her arm are standing out and running blue. So hopefully nothing but she is eerily perceptive sometimes.

[Anarion]

I'm looking at how that ship's maneuvering and it's pretty off. We can't stop them, of course, but every instinct in me says I should be racing to make preparations. Nobody's better than me at prepping the ship for a boarding party, whether that means locking the doors or ushering them in with a bright smile.

[going to read a sitch, and not wait on the roll. Hall can modify his questions based on what I end up with. (2d6+1)[11]
[questions:
1. What's the best way through this boarding party without us getting killed or captured?
2. What's my enemy's true position here?
3. Who's in control here?]

[TheAmishPirate]

[Read a sitch]?

Go for it. Your mechanic's beaten you to it, but no harm in more answers, right?

[Elanorin]

"Oh please," said Mrs. Snow, "wasn't it you who told me, 'romance is my day job'?"

Willow flinched, it was subtle and easy to miss unless you happened to be staring, but it was there.

"Not exactly, but I can see how that was all you managed to take from it," Willow bit back.

You're hardly done transmitting when the patrol boat veers suddenly in your direction. A sharp voice snaps over the comms: "Transport Neruda, this is the I.A.V. Fielding. You are ordered to release control of your helm, and stand by for boarding."

Chen flicks some switches, and you're slowing to a crawl. His hands are off the helm, the patrol boat is headed your way, and you have five minutes before a troop of the Alliance's finest are taking a tour of your lovely boat.

What do you do?

Willow frowned and nodded once to herself before standing away from the cold metal behind her, direct a brief glance at the others and then turned to hurry back to her quarters where she'd do her best in straightening herself out and refining her appearance in the limited time they had before boarding.

Then, she'd make sure to be there, at the ventral docking port, with whoever else that intended to greet them.

[TheAmishPirate]

Mrs. Snow's hand twitched. She felt a thousand tiny pinpricks along it, felt the flesh swirl and warp, felt her fingernails lengthen and harden. It was reacting to something, something like it, and Snow let the strange blood-sense pound through her body as the Alliance ship approached.

Open Your Brain: 10; I want to know about what weird alien stuff is going on in that ship. Remember you can ask me questions before/as you answer.

Well, Mrs. Snow is wearing gloves to cover the fact that weird, multicoloured bird-of-paradise feathers are sprouting from her hand and the veins along her arm are standing out and running blue. So hopefully nothing but she is eerily perceptive sometimes.

What weird alien stuff? There's no weird alien stuff. The only people who think there's weird alien stuff are weird themselves, and we don't like them. Stinking rabble with crooked lips and wild eyes who belong far beyond the Rim where nobody will ever have to look at them again. Only thing here is the glorious pinnacle of human accomplishment. Look at the soldiers! Look at the ships! Look at how shiny-

-what's that you hear? Melting? Melding? Oh no, no, that's just not possible. This is pure, unadulterated human technology, with absolutely no bits of foreign additives slowly being assimilated in. Pay no attention to the sounds behind our porcelain masks.

They will cease soon enough.

I'm looking at how that ship's maneuvering and it's pretty off. We can't stop them, of course, but every instinct in me says I should be racing to make preparations. Nobody's better than me at prepping the ship for a boarding party, whether that means locking the doors or ushering them in with a bright smile.

[going to read a sitch, and not wait on the roll. Hall can modify his questions based on what I end up with. [roll0]
[questions:
1. What's the best way through this boarding party without us getting killed or captured?
2. What's my enemy's true position here?
3. Who's in control here?]

Your best way through is to convince these purple-bellies that you're not breaking any (obvious) laws, and to do it as quickly as possible. The feds have better things to do than yet another routine customs and smuggling check. But they were bound to stop, even though they'd rather keep going. If they were looking for a ship, they would have hailed you, not the other way around. Protocol ties them here, and if they don't find anything obviously suspicious, then they'll turn around and go their merry way.

This means that the man calling all the shots is bound to be the fellow with the sharp voice over the comms. Ship like this won't have much more than a group of soldiers and a single commanding officer, all linked up on shortwave. They won't so much as hurt a fly without his word. Convince him, and you're home free.

But he's not your true enemy here. Nobody on that ship is. No, you should be far, far more worried about old Olga Snow, who is at this very moment deciding she's fed up with This Sort of Thing.