>last companion quest
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>>33526630
Go meet Adam. You owe him at least that much.

You watch him through your armor's eyes. He walks straight past. He slips on the path- right the ice. You had meant to salt that. Oh well, you can do that later. He hesitates outside.

You can guess what he's here for. He's here on behalf of the foremost citizens of this poor world to plead with you to leave, before the next wave of hunters come. Better ones than just a pack of cops led by a man with a death wish.

You walk away from your suitcase, go for the door and open the airlock. Your link shows him jump at the movement.

"Come in, don't be shy," You coax him through the intercom, go looking through the cabin again for any excuse to stay at home. The airlock cycles. You can't see him now but you guess he's trying to build courage. He fails. When the airlock cycle finishes, and you go to the door again, he stands stiff as post, staring at you.

You nod to him. He blinks. You raise a hand.
"Adam."
"Sir!"
Adam stares for a bit before remembering why he came. Never was the sharpest tool in the shed.

"Oh! Oh, hello sir, I'm here from. I was told- no, I mean, Henry sent me to, to,"
"Henry wants to talk, right," You finish for him, shaking your head, "Now, or-?"
"Well, if, if-"
"Now then."
He gives a frantic nod, before craning his neck about. He looks at you nervously, before asking what you knew was on his mind the moment he stepped in, "Uh. Where's your armor?"

You ignore the question. Well, here you were. You know what the conversation's result would be: they would ask you to leave. Makes sense. You stay, this world becomes a warzone. You could skip this- go straight to the port. You know it, they know it. But, maybe they'd appreciate a goodbye.

>"Don't worry about the armor. Let's go see what Harry wants." No reason to scare them.
>"Okay. Wait outside. I'll be along shortly with my armor." Keep armor close at hand.
>"I already know, Adam. Pass on my good byes to everyone. I'll be leaving." Go to space port with armor in tow.
>Other.

>>33527036
>"Don't worry about the armor. Let's go see what Harry wants." No reason to scare them.

>>33527036
>"Don't worry about the armor. Let's go see what Harry wants." No reason to scare them.

Well looks like I'm not going to sleep yet.

>>33527036
seconding >>33527084
no reason to leave them unnerved, the armor will just remind them of the hostage crisis

>>33527084
>>33527103
>>33527114
Calm and polite. Writing.

>Look up this quest on SupTG
>rating 77
>back in 2013

Holy shit

"Don't worry about it," You give what you hope is a reassuring grin to the boy, before going for your coat and mask, "Let's go see what Harry wants."
"Is it in this room?" Adam steps forward half crouched, swinging his arms around at empty air, "You'd tell me if it was, right?"
"Cross my heart and hope to die, it's not Adam. Stop swinging around," You lean away from an ill aimed flail and try to put your hand on his shoulder- from which he immediately shies away from. You let your arm hang by your side. Well, at least he stopped flailing- all of his attention is on you. You shrug in to your coat, zip up, grab your suitcase, "C'mon. Let's vamoose, kid."

He lets you go first, following along a few paces behind.

You end up slipping on the steps down and bang your knee in to the corner of a rock. Still hurts. Still hurts out of the armor. To Adam's credit, he hesitates only about twenty seconds before giving you a hand as you try to stand up again from the ice. He returns to following after you immediately after. You can't blame him. You dust off the snow, totter along. Old man.

Your armor waits at the periphery- you keep it still as you break your connection. It won't be that far. And aside from that, you have nothing to fear from the townsfolk. If the worst came to the worst, what could they do to you that Extol hadn't tried?

At dawn there weren't many shuffling around the town. Only a few faces you recognize- most of the activity was centered at the space port, people moving equipment and dragging away debris. No one waves at you this time when you walk by, but they all watch you.

Arden's bar seems to be the meeting place. Adam by this point has determined you won't be cutting him open and eating his entrails, so he immediately comes by your side, and with a murmured apology slaps the intercom fro his airlock before you can.

"Hey, hey, uh, it's me, me an-"
"We can see on the cams Adam. Head on over to the port, Monica could use your help."

"Adam."
"Okay, okay, thanks boss!" Adam slaps the intercom off gives you an apologetic look and a shrug, then goes off at a half jog through the snow.

You step through the airlock, shrugging out of your coat as you go through. Arden always had the heat set way too high. As you step in to the main body, there's no change there.

Clustered around the bar and a pool table are the foremost of Saronic society, what little there was of it. Henry, the radioman. Surat, retired Xerco executive. Harry, biggest rancher in the area. Doctor Tabin, your doctor. Hvaspa, only owner of a freighter worth a damn on Saronic. Kara, technical owner of the Xerco starport. And Arden, owner of the bar.

Harry and Henry are playing pool. Henry has a bruise puffing around his eye. The others are at the bar- in two groups. Doctor Tabin and Hvaspa on the right, two seats from Surat and Kara. All of them look at you, then at other things. Harry takes a shot, pocketing a striped ball, the only noise breaking up the gathering. He looks at the others, then sighs. He turns to you, leaning on his pool stick.

"Don't suppose I could interest you in a hand of pool? Or a drink?" He nods to Arden, "Considering things, none of us would condemn you for indulging before noon.."

"Thanks Harry, but," You lift your bag, "I get the feeling I've some place I gotta be real soon anyway."

"Oh c'mon, don't be like that-" Harry smiles, offering you a cue stick, "Things might be a little, a little weird right now, but-"
"A little weird?" Hvaspa murmurs from her seat at the bar.
"Vaspa..." Doctor Tabin whispers. She raises a hand, goes back to leaning on the bar.
"But! But, y'know, I just wanted, wanted to be sure there were no hard feelings..." Harry sounds miserable. Poor guy had to take the lead.

>"Right. No hard feelings. Can I go now?"
>Indulge him, "Sure, I have time for a game."
>Clean up loose ends, "Those extol guys still bothering you?"
>"Would you let me stay then?" Why should you leave home?
>Other.

>>33527954
>Clean up loose ends, "Those extol guys still bothering you?"

>>33527954
>Clean up loose ends, "Those extol guys still bothering you?"

>>33527954
>Indulge him, "Sure, I have time for a game."

>>33528023
>>33528001
Be protective. Writing.

"Those Extol guys still bothering you?" You set your bag down, it was making your arm sore anyway.
"Look it doesn't matter," Tabin starts, but Hvaspa shouts over him.
"Damn right they are! They shoot up our port, take us hostage, and now they're just going to bounce on fucking out of here like nothing happened! I'm lucky my ship wasn't on the pad, or it might've popped like Surat's here."
Surat nods, raising a finger, "Exactly right, pilot Hvaspa is exactly right. Property damage, threats to life, and now they're just going to stroll away without paying a single red toman. It's unrighteous sir!"

"And we'll be dealing with that," Harry tries to regain control, "But we needn't trouble him about it do we?"

"Well," Arden speaks low and slow. Gravelly voice from drinking his bath tub moonshine, "He could fix it, couldn't he," Arden gives you a look. Just the day before yesterday he was gushing about his son's first steps. Now he appraises you like a snake. Or a particularly dangerous tool.

"For fuck's sake people-" Harry slams down his cue stick turning, "I thought we agreed not to bring that up."
"His past? Tabin got a fucking gun to his skull over his past! " Hvaspa is standing, shouting, hands balled in anger, "Least he can do is get us some money back!"

"Stop talking like he's a tool, he's right here!" Tabin turns, points at you, "What is wrong with all of you? Look, look, forget about it, we can pool our money, bring them to court later-"
"He'd get us our money back now."
"Over how many dead bodies?"

It kind of stumbles out of the doctor's lips. He winces at that. You can see the bruise still puffing on his cheek. He fears you more than he wants justice. Strange man.

Harry licks his lips, shakes his head. Gives a weak grin.

"Shit, I thought this'd be a happy farewell party. Sorry."

>"No harm done. I'll go talk to these Extol guys for you." Bring the armor.
>"It's alright. I'll get going."
>"No harm in asking." Talk to the Extol guys. No armor.
>Other.

>>33528547
Let's not get involved here, it won't benefit anyone. It's time to go.

It isn't right. What else are we to spend our final days doing? We've known these people twenty years.

We saved the Extol men's lives and they know it. Least they can do is check their stores.

>"No harm in asking." Talk to the Extol guys. No armor.

>>33528547
seconding >>33528636

>>33528614
Seconding.

>>33528636
this

Right, I'll give it five minutes more, then 1d2.

>>33528724
>>33528722
Wait never mind I'll pounce on that. Writing.

>>33528614
Yeah it's best to just leave now, no point in staying any longer

>>33528743
>>33528740
Haha

>>33528743
We gettan involved. Were you in the last thread?

>>33528846
dunno if that anon was, but I was, and damn that was awesome, I'm glad to see this continue

>>33528919
If you were, you'd know we've got investment here. These people tolerated us for twenty years, built our house, kept us together. We owe 'em, even if they hate us.

>>33529006
Oh I know, which is why I voted to help them out, I ain't the anon saying we should up and leave

"No harm in asking, is there?"

Doctor Tabin looks up at you aghast, and you raise your hand, "Just. Asking. That's all."
"And if they refuse?" Surat asks.

You'll have to think of that when you get there. You look up, catch Harry's eye.

"Watch my bag for a bit, would you? I'll be right back for it."

Tabin's fast twists up and he looks away. You're guessing massacres are dancing in his head. Nobody voices objections as you pass through the airlock in to winter again.

You walk to the edge of town, where you saw the shuttle had landed earlier. There's some citizens milling nearby who by all rights should have been back at home. They part as you approach.

Two men are leaning on the shuttle, stamping away the cold, rubbing their hands and trying to curse away the shivers. They stop at the sight of you, straighten up- for a moment they reach for their guns before thinking better of it.

"Morning boys," You look at each of them in turn, "Who's in charge now then?"

With a sigh of relief, one slams his hand on the shuttle door, "Abrams! Abrams! It's the fucking Companion."

It takes a moment for Abrams to stumble out, pulling up an oxygen mask- he gets a lungful of bad air, and starts hacking for a moment before regaining his composure, tears running from his eyes.

"Hey, hey, it's you. God, fuck this world. So, uh I'm a little-"
"Shot up a spaceport pretty good the other night, friend," You look back. Still some haze in the air over it, "Friends of mine asked me to ask about some due compensation."
"What, do I look like a Argbadh? I can't just pull money out of my ass to pay them here. I've already apologized here pal. Can't countermand Captain's orders-"
"You did at the end there, Abrams."
"-Well, yeah- but look okay, mistakes were made. It's not my department. They make a claim, I give my testimony, they'll get damages. People get rich off this shit all the time."

In the mean time, a struggling colony bankrupts itself to fix a ruined starport.

You've been on the other end of this before, come to think. An actual Argbadh, pleading for his orbital green house. Collateral damage. Rare specimens, a historical heritage, a missing daughter, something along those lines. You don't remember the details. Just being astounded he would approach and plead of you such an insignificant thing. Terat killed him where he knelt. Sabotaging the war effort. Shattered with a backhand. You never thought about that before-

And you don't have time to think of it now.

>Concede. He's right, it's not like he's hiding money on him. Any digital transactions would be reversed the moment he was in orbit.
>Force the issue. Use the reputation of a Companion. Promise terrible vengeance if he doesn't follow through.
>Make him pay in kind with direct threats. They've got some VTOLs that'd make nice gifts for the townsfolk to sell.
>Other.

>>33529313
>>Concede. He's right, it's not like he's hiding money on him. Any digital transactions would be reversed the moment he was in orbit.

Maybe we can give them some of our medals to sell or something. Those should be worth something.

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>>33529345
>Selling honorable trophies of war to hick plebs

>>33529313
>>Make him pay in kind with direct threats. They've got some VTOLs that'd make nice gifts for the townsfolk to sell.
surely they don't need all of them to leave the planet

>>33529377
>trophies of war

They're medals. Governments mass produce them. If you lose yours they literally give you another one but I guess that's not an option for him.

>>33529377
wheres your vote anon?

>>33529446
Good point.

We're a cool companion aren't we?

>Make him pay in kind with direct threats.

>>33529377
>Honorable
>>33529423
They're companion medals

>>33529313
Fuck it, they're not looking for trouble, you're not looking for trouble.

>Other

"Look Abrams, you don't want any more of what the captain was shelling out. You also don't need all this kit, including a few things you know I can take. Call it collateral damage and do it right, you're third-rate to command so you'll get promoted for coming back at all after facing me. Get your men unloading something command and the civilians will live with, would you?"

"Or do you want to be more like me than you have to and let people twist in the wind? 'Cause they're on your conscience far more than mine, just this once."

>>33529313
>Concede. He's right, it's not like he's hiding money on him. Any digital transactions would be reversed the moment he was in orbit.

Don't suppose the crazy guy from last time had any last minute donations to make before he died?

There was that gun of his that could be sold if the right people got their hands on it or maybe a VTOL just happen to be not be salvageable.

>>33529313
Try to convince him to leave unneeded vehicles and hardware, tell his bosses they were destroyed if need be, they can justify a fair number of losses to the higher-ups given that they went up against a Companion.

>>33529377
>>33529345
>>33529423

The medals memorialize genocide, most likely. They're not gonna sell well, and there's no market to take 'em to without shuttles and a spaceport.

>>33529497
This isn't bad. Try it. Or something less wordy.

>>33529497
This is good, we should use this.

>>33529520
>>33529547
>>33529497
Hm. Those three roughly seem to be on the same page, so let's roll with that. Adapting. Appealing to Abrams to let some things slip off the back of the shuttle.

You scratch your head. You're betting at the war making side of things than the peace making. You frown at him.

"Where are the VTOLs from the other night?"
"Parked them way out. We have to refit them to take them out of atmo."
"Nice stuff."
"Not really. Blast cradles're shit, they're only good for one, maybe two uses before you have to throw it away."
"No kidding. Think you might be short a few blast cradles?"

Abrams is an unsavory cur. He immediately gets what you're pressing at, narrows his eyes.
"You want me to leave a VTOL with you."
"Maybe two, and maybe some of your unnecessary gear. You lost one, you might as well lose three."
"The assholes at home keep track of whether or not I use two sheets or three when I wipe my ass, you think they're going to accept losing a VTOL?"
"Look at it this way, your superior officer just led you on a wild goose chase that got him killed, and you narrowly surviving. How accommodating do you think your officers will be when people start asking why some Extol officers shot up a space port and took some kids hostage for nothing? You can help them out, do a good thing, and not have this shit follow you home."

"I think they frankly won't give a shit what some raggedy ass undeveloped shit hole thinks. Boo hoo. A piss hole of a planet has to spend some money repairing some hand me downs they were lucky enough to steal while civilization was crumbling down. Free ride's over, everyone's life sucks. Join the fucking club."

Your first instinct is to slap him. But, you're out of your armor. Sure, you could kill him, but it'd be costly. Messy. You dial back your anger. You didn't have to stand for this shit when the Senate still stood. You really wish you had your armor right now. Abrams wouldn't be so fucking cocky if you had that.

But no. Dial it back. You shake your head, "Well. Sure, if Donnel was still in charge. But you're not an officer are you?"

There you go. Doubt. You launch on.

"I don't know about Donnel, but I do know when enlisted get ideas above their station, the people upstation pay them particular heed. They'll notice every mistake you made. Donnel paid his way in, rubbed elbows with their right people, and earned himself some slack. That pistol on his hip wasn't cheap. Bet he got that working in the first revolutionary armies. How about you, Abrams? When'd you join up?"

Abrams is looking down, doing some mental calculations. He'll add up your way. Bring it home.

"You come back alone, they'll ask questions. You seem smart, and your boys here will back you up, so you'll survive that. You're not going to get a promotion, but they'll let you squeak by. But, you come back, and then they hear about Extol cops acting like it's the big 'ol bad days of the empire? They'll find someone to pin the blame on. And they'd take pleasure in throwing an unlikeable fuck like you to the wolves."
"I get it, I get it!" He raises his hands, "You're right, I was wrong. You make a good point. Damn it. Okay-" He nods at one of his men, "We're ditching two of the VTOLs, the armor, the ordnance, and that weird clamp thing- make sure to rub out the tags right? And be thorough!" The man is nodding, moving off, putting a finger to his ear. Abrams turns to you.

"The people here won't say shit, right? As far as Extol will know, we come here, get ambushed, lose Donnel and some gear, and bug out. Clear?"

Somehow, this entire conversation has made you feel dirty. But it reminds you of the old days. At any rate, you don't know anything about Extol, or if they'd give a damn about Saronic's claim. But you knew he'd be paranoid enough to believe you.

>"I'll leave that up to the people of Saronic."
>"Don't worry friend. You keep up your end, we'll keep up ours." Make sure to make that clear to the people on the colony.
>"Don't worry friend.You keep up your end, we'll keep up ours." Abrams can burn for all you care. Let the people press their report.
>Other.

>>33530045
>>"Don't worry friend. You keep up your end, we'll keep up ours." Make sure to make that clear to the people on the colony.

>>33530045
>"Don't worry friend. You keep up your end, we'll keep up ours." Make sure to make that clear to the people on the colony.

>>33530045
>"Don't worry friend. You keep up your end, we'll keep up ours." Make sure to make that clear to the people on the colony.
if they make a claim, that just brings more attention down onto them, and they don't want that

>>33530045
>>"Don't worry friend. You keep up your end, we'll keep up ours." Make sure to make that clear to the people on the colony.

>>33530112
>>33530111
>>33530084
>>33530074
Snitches get a kick in the britches. Writing.

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>Last Companion Quest

"Don't worry friend. You keep up your end, we'll keep up ours."

"Yeah, 'friend.' We're real grateful."

Can't make friends with everyone.

"I'll go tell folks the good news. Did a good thing here today," You try tossing a last olive branch to Abrams, but the man has turned away, banging on the shuttle door to be let in.

You walk back through the snow, and back in to Arden's bar. The first thing you hear is Henry's gruff voice, "Told ya he wouldn't kill anyone."
"How'd it go?" Harry trying to take the lead again. You instinctively try to hang up your coat, before remembering that you'll just be back out in the cold in no time anyway.

"I reached an agreement. They'll leave some of their wares here- two VTOLs and some other junk," You wave your hand, walking over to your bag- you lift it to your eye, look along the seam. Yeah, the tie was still there. They didn't peek. Satisfied you set it back down, "That kid, Ben. He's a real military nerd. He'll tell you what they're worth."

Jubilation doesn't fill the air.

"Wait, wait, wait," Hvaspa butts in, "They're not going to pay us, they're going to be giving us GUNS."
"And a pair of VTOLs," You correct with some amount of irritation, "And you don't have to hold on to them, you sell them."
"Why won't they shoot us and take the stuff? We aren't fighters! You think we know how to sell weapons?" Harry doesn't seem impressed. Really, of the crowd, no one looks happy. Well, except Surat. He's nodding, thinking. You didn't expect a ticker tape parade at any rate. You shake your head.

"Trust me, buyers will come."

They stare at you, disbelieving. Tabin starts laughing. A belly chuckle, doing his best not to laugh through a bruised face.

You explain the claims part.

He laughs harder, tears of pain mixed in with laughter.

"It's my fault," He stops giggling a moment, to cradle his face, "I did ask him not to kill anyone. Old man," He shakes his head, "You are the last damn person that I expected to be pushing is in to arms dealing."

The VTOLs could be used for other things. Strip out the ordnance, they could be useful. Their debt will be paid. But they'll have to find buyers.

The townsfolk drift to one end of the room to speak to one another as an Extol man calls the bar, asking who he should be dropping off the gear with. No one particularly wants to be the prime target. Hvaspa separates, drifting over to you. Explains the plan. You'll board her freighter, get to the Echo Entry point on the Royal Road. You're own your own from there. Whoever will be following your tag will follow you.

Away from Saronic.

"Thank you-"
"All we're doing is surviving," Hvaspa hisses, "And I don't know you like the rest of them. All I know is-"
"You asked for my help, and I gave it. I won't be back either. Don't worry."

Hvaspa clams shut at that, narrowing her eyes up at you. She nods.

"Good. You ready to go?"

Is there anything else that needs to be done?

>No. Grab your armor, and go.
>Actually...
>Other.

>>33531031
>No. Grab your armor, and go.

>>33531031
>>No. Grab your armor, and go.

>>33531031
>>No. Grab your armor, and go.

>>33531031
>Other

Say goodbye to Hatfen and make sure he didn't break anything again before we leave.

>>33531099
*make sure she didn't break anything again before we leave.

>>33531099
I support this action.

>>33531099
Beat me to it.

>>33531099
this sounds good, do this then grab our armor and we're set

Checking on that wacky Hatfen kid, then to the wild black yonder.

>>33531099
...Yeah, probably this.

>>33531163
For some reason I get the feeling that if this hasn't freaked her out too much she is going to want to come with us.

>>33531386
It's only every quest ever doing shit like this. We owe her an explanation, and it'd take VERY capable work by OP to make a tag-along even halfway sane.

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>>33531405
i believe in this op, he may be a faggot but he's a cool faggot

>>33531405
I don't think anyone on this dustball is totally sane

>>33531440
The act of tagging along with some ancient god-tier supersoldier on a death march, least of all one with a conscience.

"Hatfen-" You frown, look around, "I haven't seen her at all. Is she okay?"
"Who?"
"Hatfen. Look, never mind. Do you know where the people that had their airlocks breached are staying?"
"Temple, last I heard."

"Thanks," You part from the group, lift your bag, "I just have to pick up my armor and drop something off. I'll be right back."
"Just make sure you're back before nightfall," Hvaspa finds a seat and holds up two fingers to Arden. He obligingly sets two shot glasses before her, "Take a last look, old man."

You turn back to the snow, set out.

She isn't at the temple. Should have figured, she's got some issues with the divine right now. The priest there hopes that if you see her you'll direct her his way. He doesn't recognize you. As is typical of an offworlder, he's left out of the grapevine. You check her house. The airlock lays eerily open, with some good samaritan's attempt at taping it shut flapping in the breeze. You step inside, poke around. In the basement, you take the opportunity to shut off the water purifier. Upstairs, her room is a mess. She had tried to run- a knocked over book case and broken, flickering holo emitter attest to Captain Donnel's roughshod operation. Stuttering images of a happy family follow you as you check the rest of the house.

Too big a home for one child. You fight down your trepidation for her safety. Saronic was a good town. They'd make sure she was okay. You grab the holo album, give it a reboot, and tighten the lens so it's right as rain again.

No sign of her. You head back for your armor to send out drones on dispatch.

Unwilling to eat a faceful of snow again, you take the trail up to your cabin slow. As soon as you get a connection to your Anusiya, you get a ping.

Of course. She's only seventeen after all. She's sitting on your front step, shivering in a coat that's too small for her. Curled up, knees tucked in. This will be awkward.

You climb the last of the hill, and get in to her sights. After seeing you, she scrambles up and sprints at you. Unwilling to get knocked back down the hill, you step forward quickly to meet her half way. Even then, you have to take a knee and get pushed back.

It's hard to distinguish words at first. Halved hearing doesn't help either. But she's racked with sobs, pushing her face into your shoulder, squeezing you with uncomfortable strength. You pick it up eventually.

"Don't leave."

It makes sense. You've been there from birth, the guardian of her parents and her. Just two months back, her parents had been taken. And now, her grandfather had to leave.

"Please, please, please don't leave."
"It's okay. It's okay Hatfen," You've been there her whole life.
"Please, please, I- I don't want you all taken please, please, please, please," She's barely able to hiss it out, shouting from behind the mask.

Your armor's connection is there. You can go now. There's more lives than hers on the line. A bit of heartbreak was all she'd suffer- if you stayed, she might die. She nearly did die last night.

But you hold her tighter, and wish all you could that you could watch her grow just a little longer.

"You'll be fine. You grew up well, hah," You try to retract back a bit, and with some effort keep her from strangling you. You put one hand to the top of your head, and lift it above hers, "See? I keep getting shorter, and you keep getting taller. You'll catch up to me soon."
"Why?" Her eyes shine behind the mask, "Why the hell are you leaving? Why does everyone hate you now?"
"They don't hate me-"
"Tabin does. Everyone says you should go. Everyone seems to have turned in to an asshole over night."

You stop yourself from telling her not to curse.

"No," You chuckle, "They have a good reason. If I could stay with you, do you think there's a single thing anybody could do to stop me?"

"No," She looks down then up. She's thinking now. Dangerous, "What happened? What did you do?"

>Make a clean break here. Just go. Say you'll explain later. Promise to write.
>>Leave her a gift: The only medal you were ever proud of.
>>Leave her a gift: Your memoirs. They're not complete, but she'll learn from it.
>>Leave her a gift: The magistrate's pistol. It will keep her safe in lieu of you.
>>Leave her a gift: Other.
>You guess you have to. Even if she'll hate you for it. Invite her in, put on a cup of tea, get talking.
>Lie.
>"Ask Dr. Tabin. I have to go."
>Other.

>>33531662

>Make a clean break here. Just go. Say you'll explain later. Promise to write.
>>Leave her a gift: Your memoirs. They're not complete, but she'll learn from it.

Who else would care to read it?

>You guess you have to. Even if she'll hate you for it. Invite her in, put on a cup of tea, get talking.

Not the whole truth, but the core of it. And may as well leave her a gift, but preferably not something they'll track you by like the memoirs being combed for psychological insight or the medals.

Not the magistrate's pistol either, Extol might come for that - some friend of Donnel's.

No, leave her the cabin. And maybe some repair manuals. Skilled hands can always find work.

>>33531702
This is alright.

>>33531662
>>>Leave her a gift: Your memoirs. They're not complete, but she'll learn from it.
>>>Leave her a gift: The magistrate's pistol. It will keep her safe in lieu of you.

>>33531662
>>You guess you have to. Even if she'll hate you for it. Invite her in, put on a cup of tea, get talking.

>>33531662
>You guess you have to. Even if she'll hate you for it. Invite her in, put on a cup of tea, get talking.

>Leave her a gift: Other.
All three gifts and the cabin if she wants it.

Promise to write.

>>33531748
Easy there, writing to her isn't going to keep her safe and we'll be dead in a few months anyway.

>>33531702
That's actually some sound reasoning. I'll change my vote to that.

Fuck yes! Read the first thread of this! Catching up now

>>33531662
>You guess you have to. Even if she'll hate you for it. Invite her in, put on a cup of tea, get talking.
>Leave her a gift: The only medal you were ever proud of.
>Leave her a gift: Your memoirs. They're not complete, but she'll learn from it.
>Leave her a gift: The magistrate's pistol. It will keep her safe in lieu of you.

>>33531702
This one.

Voting no on memoirs. She doesn't need to be traumatized that hard and we can probably find someone to actually publish them. The senate's crimes do not deserve to be forgotten, and it's a lot for a seventeen year old to carry.

>>33531702
secondan

This one was a bit too layercake-y, sorry about that. Lemme close the vote and start counting.

Also: Captcha please stop giving me freaking chinese characters god damn.

>>33531794
we could give her a timelocked copy while we get them published elsewhere

>>33531950
I'm thinking she'd get targeted because some jackass bounty hunter would want to steal anything that might give him insight into our thinking.

>>33531985
well if we get it published elsewhere, that ain't a problem seeing as it would be readily available

You've got plenty to time.

This will not be fun. You look up. No beams of light from the heaven to warm you.

"Okay. This will be a long story though," You bring yourself up, stand, "Come on. Let's go inside and have some tea. Do you still like Xos?"

A few minutes later, you're pouring a cup for her, and a cup for yourself. You had to fish the bags, mugs and kettle out of the pile of crap out front, shaking off the snow and ice. You lose a cup to temperature difference, but by the end you're sharing a table, taking your sips. Your armor stands outside maintaining watch.

"Where to begin..."
"The beginning is a good start," Hatfen smiles. Her eyes are remarkably red. You snort.
"Cute."

You slide away the tea.

>Admit guilt. You feel guilty, right?
>Just the facts. Don't allow any of your personal feelings to leak in.
>Spare the gory details. She's only seventeen, and she doesn't need your sins weighing her down. And making her a target.
>Make up excuses. You can't imagine her hating you. She's the only thing you have left. That can't happen.

"...It was the usual song of tyrants. 'If you think I'm bad, imagine what's over the hill, beyond the wall, past the stars.' I believed it. And at first, that's what we did. We defeated an alien race devoted to our senseless destruction. We had achieved our goal. Peace came to our empire."

"But no one wants to outlive their purpose. A hammer aches to be used. And so, in lack of enemies, our masters made new ones."

You tell her about Opis. About Bardiya. About the Satrap's Disease, about the Culling of Carton, about the extermination of the Hyskos, and the Fall of Ramnes. And how you had run and hid from your past and what you had done, and why the galaxy despised and hated you now. And that your armor is the greatest prize, that empires would slaughter and kill for.

You drag your tea back to you, bring it to your lips, drink. It's cold. Hatfen is looking at you curiously.

>Gift?
>Leave?
>Other?

>>33532236
>Admit guilt. You feel guilty, right?

>Gift?

Leave her the only medal we're proud of, and we may as well leave her the cabin, tools, repair manuals, that sort of thing.

>>33532236
>Spare the gory details. She's only seventeen, and she doesn't need your sins weighing her down. And making her a target.
>Gift?
Give her the house. We can send her a copy of our memoirs if they ever make it to print.

>>33532236
>>Spare the gory details. She's only seventeen, and she doesn't need your sins weighing her down. And making her a target.
>Gift?
give her the house and the only medal we're proud of, tell her to look our for our memoirs when we get them printed

>>33532236
>Spare the gory details. She's only seventeen, and she doesn't need your sins weighing her down. And making her a target

>Gift? Basically this >>33532306
>>33532311 And if we ever finish our memoirs we can send her the original copy.

>>33532236
>Just the facts. Don't allow any of your personal feelings to leak in.
>Spare the gory details. She's only seventeen, and she doesn't need your sins weighing her down. And making her a target.
>Gift?
House, medal.

Spare the details, leave her the cabin, repair manuals, and a bit of bling. Writing.

>Also, might pastebin the protagonist's account some other time. Right now too sleepy. To spehsssss

Rolled 9, 2, 9 = 20

>>33532406
Spess is best spess.

>>33532813
Whoops.

Her brow furrows and she looks down in annoyance.

"That's not the whole story."
"Not the whole story no. There was a lot more screaming and fire for one thing," You rise from your chair, taking the cups and walk over to the sink to wash them, "But you get the gist."

She doesn't. She is frowning. Thinking. She's a smart girl. It's just hard to reconcile the image of a mass murdering soldier and a kindly grandfather. You clear your throat.

"Hatfen?"
She looks up at you, blinks, "Yeah?"

"I have to get going."
"Wait, wait, you know, you never did explain the Shaoshyant-"
"Sorry Hatfen, you'll have to ask someone else," Maybe you'll send her your memoirs if you ever complete them, "But I have a pilot waiting for me."
"Come on! There's more! You have more to tell right?"
"Hatfen no."
"Son of a bi-"
"Language."

She bites her lip. Looks down. Looks on the edge of tears again.

"So this is it? You'll never come back?"
You only have two months. You give a nod.

She can't meet your gaze. You wash the cups, put them back in the cupboard.

"I'll miss you."
"I know. Take care of yourself."

She's still sitting at the table staring down, doing her best not to cry again when you head back to Arden's. Your armor stalks behind you keeping close.

It's about noon when you get there. Hvaspa seems a little soused. Aside from her, Arden, and Henry still playing pool, nobody else is in there. No great farewell parade for you. You go immediately for your bag, still by Hvaspa's side.

"Enjoy your little trip?"
"No," You pull it out. A little bit of dull siver tin and ribbon of purple. It's severely frayed.. 'Hyskos Campaign' barely distinguishable on the medal itself, crudely shaped a blazing sun.

>>33532813
spess is indeed best spess

>>33532406
>Right now too sleepy
methinks a bit too sleepy

You walk to the bar, lay it down, point at Arden, "This goes to Hatfen. My cabin and the land surrounding it are hers as well- along with whatever she can find in it. Tell her to look in the upper left desk drawer also, that's where I kept my old bound manuals. I set up that still for you and saved your wife from that fire Arden. I'm calling that favor in, so don't forget or misplace anything. Clear?"

Arden seems a bit taken aback by your personal interest and opens his mouth to say something snarky- but the look you give him quells that. He nods, "Right, right. Whatever you say. Uh," He finds the glass he's polishing far more interesting, "Sorry it ended up this way."

"Don't worry about it. Hvaspa?"
"Ready whenever you are chief."

The shuttle ride was silent. Hvaspa does her best to mask her contempt with silence and apathy. Her freighter was small, only a six hundred ton system skip. Mostly courier work to get her by, along with the occasional passenger job from someone that needs to get some place on the cheap.

She doesn't take the Royal Roads if she can avoid them. All of them lead to Ramnes, where most of the interrupts are, and a lot of imperial fleets gone rogue. She feels they're too dangerous, and she can't afford to bribe the runner like most of the bigger freight concerns.

The echo station is in sight. From there, the galaxy.

Two months to live. How do you spend that?

>Cut off because I fell asleep several times during this post writing thinging whatever. Blargh. Sorry everyone gotta sleep. Pick up tomorrow at about 9:30PM PST?

>>33532968
>Pick up tomorrow at about 9:30PM PST?
Sounds good to me, thanks for the thread so far, glad to see this continued.

>>33532968
>Two months to live. How do you spend that?
Damn good question.

Thanks for the thread OP, go get some sleep, we'll try to keep the thread alive for you.

>>33532968
Waiting warmly for it to resume. Pretty neat thread.

>>33532968
coo

>>33532968
>Two months to live. How do you spend that?
Well, we could try and visit people to apologize and attempt to atone for our sins, but I bet most of the people we would talk to are long dead - they probably wouldn't appreciate the move anyway.

Maybe we should head back to the Imperial Core, to where everything started. One last journey through memory lane.

>>33534290
>Maybe we should head back to the Imperial Core, to where everything started. One last journey through memory lane.
Thats one good idea.

I'd like to try and ensure that whoever rules now doesn't be as terrible as the Senate and require people like us, so maybe we can try and change things high up.

bedtime bump, could another anon take over and keep the thread alive please

Bumpan for LCQ.

4am bump

9th page bump.

>>33532968
I honestly just want to take down the government.

>>33532968
I wouldn't mind trying to find out if there is a way to find treatment for whatever is happening to us.

There might not be a cure but it might give us some extra time.

File: image.jpg (29 KB, 430x224)

29 KB JPG

>>33541231
All governments revert to their true form anon.

It's the nature of humanity to centralise and then abuse power, for the 'good of the people' of course...

_

>>33544353
Bump

>>33526630
>check catalogue
>Last Companion Quest 2
>HOLY SHIT I remember that, that was the one by Herodotus
>check thread
>yep. No sleeping tonight.

Sorry for the delay. Writing. Thanks for keeping this up. Setting up station description and options.

>>33550263
dude, get a twitter account and post it so you can tell us when you're going to update

A conjoined pair of softly turning crescents, with a few transponder buoys as guides to the cluster of distant rings that formed an entry for the Royal Road. The sides of the echo station facing the rings were black and pock scarred- natural accidents when it came to downshifting freighters coming out of the roads.

It was a recent creation, probably dating back to the end of the Senate when they thought the rebellion was just politics as usual. The design was a patriotic call back to old designs from the age of beauty, and true to the era, were awfully impractical. Meant to be seen from afar, from yachts zipping by rather than for people to really use. The view doesn't impress much in Hvaspa's garbage strewn and crowded ship cockpit.

Hvaspa touches the retrothrusters, let's the ship drift gently in to a docking arm for the station to finish. She nods to you.

"So? What's your plan?
"Get away from Saronic."
"I mean beyond that," Comms squawk, and she leans in to answer- usual call and response. The operator on the other end cracks a joke about her losing weight, and she obliges him with a polite laugh. Probably in reference to her not playing courier.
"Search me," You look back to your armor, crouched in a ball back in the cargo hold. Its arms and legs are detached and laying in front of it to allay Hvaspa's fears. Not like it meant much- it could assemble itself. But you don't let that on.

"You don't have a plan?" She taps at the stick, makes a minute adjustment, "Nothing at all?"
"Getting away is plan enough I think," A low thump as the arm takes you in- along with an uncomfortably sharp squeal, "I'll think of the details later."

You have options that you can think of, but no real great reason to share them. Not that you don't trust Hvaspa, but she didn't really need to know.

"Right, well," She flicks a few switches, and you feel a momentary nausea as the arms swings you in to the station, "Suit yourself. Here," She pulls open a drawer by her leg, pulls out a small package of carefully folded silk, "Our goodbye gift."

You take it, open it. Frown. A thousand toman.

"Money enough to get you on the royal road, and away from here. Don't book transit with a ship that promises to get you some place for less than fifty, or more than two hundred," She's brusque, business like as she shuts the drawer, getting in to advice offered to many customers before you, "The missionary liners are the safest bet, but if you can't make that, hitch a ride with one of the passenger ships. If a freight captain offers you a lift, it's a trick no matter what he promises. If you need to eat, don't get it from the echo's stalls, they'll charge you out the nose. Hang by the docks, you'll find some-"

"I get it, I get it," You chuckle, slip away the money in your coat, "I think I'll be okay."
"Hmph," Hvaspa gives you another look, then shrugs.

"Your funeral."

The station's arm drags you in to its belly, letting you float in its scuffed and worn hangar just a few inches from the ground. Hvaspa does her final cooldown of the craft, and signals the all clear. For a moment, you feel your stomach hiccup as the ship's grav field conks out, and the station's takes over. Hvaspa's ship hits the deck.

Your armor rights itself, and slips out of the visible spectrum. The ship grinds into the dock, and the air cycles. You take a deep breath of the last air of Saronic. The vessel's door opens, and humid and warm air, rank with oil and steel floods in.

Hvaspa gives a nod, "Bye."

You step out, and your silent armor follows you.

The echo station is quiet. You go to the airlock, wait in there while an array of flashing lights and hovering doodads scan you, trying to recognize any signs of infectious illness or other reasons to quarantine you. Your armor passes its notice.

Problems. You have three, your armor reminds.

Your disease.
Your tag.
Your hunters.

You were dying due to a failsafe. If you want a cure, you should find the Ramstep medical academy. Ramstep was a barren moon that became an academic capital, a leading home for research and development. Ironically, for producing some of the most heinous weapons of the war, it became one of the germs for the resistance. As of such, it remained aloof and nominally independent last you heard, leveraging its great wealth in to mercenary fleets to protect it. If anyone could find out what's wrong with you, it would be them.

The Senate's tag though, meant that you'd always be followed. Anyone wanting to find you, and anyone you're hiding with could just go check up on the databanks linking back to Ramnes to see you. They were supposed to be secure, but if this last unpleasant visit was any sign, they weren't. You'd have to go to the war torn former capital Ramnes to find out who has access, and try to cut them off. Without being hunted, all the other objectives would be easier. You can guarantee that it wouldn't be lightly guarded.

The last option, would be the easiest, relatively speaking. Extol were the first ones to prod you. If you want Saronic left alone, you'd have to go to Extol to find out who else knew about you living there. Try to draw them away, try to show them sleeping dogs still bite, try to find out who got them the link to Ramnes- a lot of options.

The airlock announces you are clean. No infectious disease. What's killing you won't harm anyone else. You step through, greeted by festive colors, streamers and banners declaring deals, and crowds of people from the galaxy over, moving on to bigger and better things.

The only option you didn't have was to stay.

>A cure. Find the shortest route to Ramstep.
>Find your tag. Book a course for Ramnes.
>Pay Extol a visit. Buy a ticket to Extol.
>Put your ear to the ground. Find out what's going on in the galaxy.
>Other.

>>33551359
>>Find your tag. Book a course for Ramnes.
>>Put your ear to the ground. Find out what's going on in the galaxy.

>>33551359
>>Pay Extol a visit. Buy a ticket to Extol.

>>33551359
>Find your tag. Book a course for Ramnes.
>Put your ear to the ground. Find out what's going on in the galaxy.

>>33551359
>>Put your ear to the ground. Find out what's going on in the galaxy.

>>33551359
How long does it take to get around? If we're looking at month long voyages I think we should get healed first.

>>33551359
>Find your tag. Book a course for Ramnes.
we get the tag removed and then beeline for a cure and we're good
>Put your ear to the ground. Find out what's going on in the galaxy.

>>33551450
thats a very good question, and might change a few votes, I wanna know now

>>33551450
>>33551481
A quick check on the local net while you're browsing the stalls brings up a stellar map.

Saronic is on the periphery of the galaxy- the sixth generation from the throne worlds. The Royal Road network should make any journey a matter of days. The official estimates are-

Ramstep: 6 days.
Ramnes: 9 days.
Extol: 4 days.

However, this depends on bandits not breaking connections and harassing travelers for tolls. A constant threat these days. Unofficially, people regard the roads in to Ramnes as the most dangerous and expensive, having the most former fleets and deserters roaming the routes. Most speculate you should add anywhere between a day to a week on to any journey, so long as your pilot doesn't offend and you're not abducted by the pirates for ransom or killed.

Somehow, you're not as worried about that last part.

>In the news...

Extol Republic scandal- what happened to Captain Donnel, and the Over There?

Fighting flares up again in orbit over Opis.

General Horace gives an ultimatum to the world of Callow, demanding two bushels of foodstock for every person on world. Callow, currently suffering a famine sends pleas to the paralyzed Extol Republic.

Companion spotted at galactic periphery?

The official outlets. Informal inquiries might yield better results from the spacers.

>>33551578
In that case I'll keep my vote as Ramnes. If they can track us the other places will probably be more dangerous.

>>33551578
>Ramstep: 6 days.
>Ramnes: 9 days.
>Extol: 4 days.
>
>However, this depends on bandits not breaking connections and harassing travelers for tolls. A constant threat these days. Unofficially, people regard the roads in to Ramnes as the most dangerous and expensive, having the most former fleets and deserters roaming the routes. Most speculate you should add anywhere between a day to a week on to any journey, so long as your pilot doesn't offend and you're not abducted by the pirates for ransom or killed.
right then, my votes unchanged, I say we plan to allow 3 weeks for travel to and from Ramnes, and then a day or two to get the tag removed, then we leg it to Ramstep to get cured

>>33551633
>>33551618
Gotcha, sorry I should have included the travel times earlier. It's also worth noting that since Ramnes is relatively central to the empire, getting from there is a lot faster.

Anyway, I'll allow another five minutes just in case anyone has anything to say, but rumors and Ramnes flight securing is going.

>>33551359
I think it'd probably be pretty safe to go to Ramstep even before getting our tag off, since anyone looking for us once we're there would have to risk getting on the bad side of a rich and well-regarded independent tech hub by attempting a military action.

An element of their mercenary guards getting dollar signs in their eyes and deciding we'd be a prize worth losing their jobs for might be an issue, but that also seems like a fringe case.

>>33551677
this is true, but I'd rather anyone trying to follow/catch us does not realise we got our failsafe removed and cured and we're loose in the galaxy at large and as >>33551673 said, getting from Ramnes to Ramstep shouldn't take that long, which would mean cutting a weeks worth of travel time out, so we won't be spending that long getting our tag removed, and anyone trying to hunt us down will run into a cold trail at Ramnes

but yeah, the moment we get that tag removed, we're heading off to get cured and make friends at Ramstep

>>33551757
How are we gonna pay for the treatment anyway? It's not like we're wealthy, and if we try coercion they'll just fuck us over when they put us under.

>>33551810
we'll cross that bridge when we get to it anon, we're a motherfucking Companion, we won't let that get in the way

>>33551673
>>33551677
>>33551757
>>33551810

Ramnes. So long as some shadow of Senatorial power still stands, we have unfinished business.

As for payment, we'll let them study any of the advanced recovery systems they wired into us if they want. Or give them some portion of the blueprints for the armor's medical suite. Or do them a favor. It's not like we're out of bargaining chips.

>>33551889
Ramnes it is, then. Let's go for the center.

Ramnes. Old ghosts lay there. Along with your tag. You research while you walk.

Things were more stable these days. You're hooked in the local, and it operates- you see most of the captains have a presence on it taking orders and offering prices for hauling freight and passengers. Last time you came through, there were sweltering crowds of refugees, no net presence, and the lucky few with their own ships standing on seats and boxes taking bids. Seller's market.

Not much better these days. You notice the vast majority of captains heading in to Ramnes offering the same price with different times. 220 Toman a head. A strange one offering at 175, a priest of the Singular offering passage on a pilgrimage ship for 100 to 'those faithful and worthy', but the rest stick to that price. At least the place wasn't mobbed with people stinking of fear and fire.

Stark white and black tiles turned dingy brown and gray by time and abuse surround you. You can smell cooking food, men shouting sales of almonds, offering carvelta (No idea what that is), and the usual collection of crack pot preachers hollering for salvation with cheap liquor on their breath.

Another turn, and you're behind a guard rail looking down on the collection of ships for the departure hangar.

The local net crawls up the corner of your eye as you look for ships- there's a rather large freighter hanging by the station. The pilot isn't shy in the advertisement boasting connections with the Yellow Scarves, the Red Eyebrows, the Lost 15th along with other infamous bands, claiming they all prey on the route. 275, but he promises a quicker journey since he bribes them ahead of time.

The 175 one catches your eye- a patrol cutter meant for intersystem work only allowing fifty people. Surprised it was so cheap. Maybe they knew something you didn't? Or maybe they were idiots.

Or you can play it safe. Get a 200 toman one. Just another regular cargo hauler, with all of its failings.

>Quick.
>Cheap.
>Safe.
>Other.

>>33551921
>>Quick.

>>33551921
>Safe.

>>33551921
>>Cheap.
Let's take Hvaspa's advice. The patrol cutter looks like a good option.

>>33551921
>Cheap.

Hvaspa did say to try and get on a missionary liner if possible.

>>33551921
I'll second >>33551980

and if shit hits the fan, a patrol cutter would be better than a cargo hauler

>>33551921
Quick. We have a deadline here.

>>33551961
>>33552055
guys, did you completely forget >>33551333
>If a freight captain offers you a lift, it's a trick no matter what he promises

>>33552067
Alright, I'll change muh vote. Go with the patrol cutter.

>>33552049
>>33552035
>>33551980
Cheap cheap cheap. 825 toman left.

Writing.

>>33551921
Cheap. We can fight off any pirates, when shit hits the fan, right? Unless we want to keep our powers as secretive as possible. Maybe Safe would be the best option.

You look at the toman. 1000 to start with. Had to preserve them.

'Sides, they weren't cheaper than 50 which was what Hvaspa warned you against. You're not exactly thrilled to be hanging around a bunch of fanatics though.

You bring your full attention to the net, mentally send a message to the Singulars. Yes, you'd hitch a ride. Payment would be in cash, see you soon.

You take the stairs down, get down to the hangar floor, hearing the familiar shouts of captains berating crew for slow work (Strange to see all the machines meant to handle the unloading left idle. Station manager dispute perhaps). You walk past, keeping your eyes down and unobtrusive. Occasionally you hear muffled grunts of confusion behind you as your armor follows you through the crowd.

You'll have to get a better way to transport that if you keep this up.

The cutter is further out and the crowds thin out much to your relief. The cutter is large, a sleek and dangerous maneuverable thing with a heavy belly of a cargo refit. You note with some admiration that whoever did the job tried to make it mesh with the rest of the ship with armor plating aping the proper design, but still it looked bloated and uneven. Worse still, you see the weapon mounts have been removed from it. Military surplus then. You console yourself that armed ships are, as a rule, engaged and destroyed by the pirate gangs to end the risk of pirate hunters and intimidate anyone that thought to get away without paying a toll. Still, it was a cutter. Cutters were quick, bloated or no. The crew are outside, waiting, and you can see the few people moving through giving them a wide berth. There are three of them keeping a border, stripped to the waist, daubed in strange and phosphorescent tattoos. The whorls start thin on their arms, coalescing and coming together on their bellies and hearts in great big blue and purple whorls. Three of them are there, hands out, sometimes calling to people that pass with cheery smiles.

A dour, older man with a shaved head, pudgier than the others but not missing the tattoos is sitting on the cutter's ramp in, idly running a large chain of five links through his fingers. He looks up at your approach. The three on the periphery perk up at your approach, opening their hands and preparing their spiel, but a bark from the older man causes them to draw back.

The pudgy one stands, steps closer to you- on his right arm, under the tattoo, a marker scar. Right. He'd have a call chip in him. Member of the old empire then, you're guessing. Another fellow running from his past. No Companion though. You're guessing one of the cannon fodder.

He gives you a bow, looking somewhere past you.

"You purchased the ticket?"
"Yes, I'm looking to get to Ramnes," You look around, frown. The hangar is almost deserted, no luggage or cargo "You haven't had many other passengers?" The man spreads his hands.

"The majority are filled, but we hope the inevitable shall provide. We await the rest of our passengers. Do you have objections?"
"I'd like to leave as soon as possible, if that's alright to you."
The man's wide mouth sags a bit as he nods, looking now to your left, "Of course, of course. We need to depart for Ramnes as soon as possible as well. But, this wretched world on the eve does not fill a belly for free," His eyes finally focus down on your bag, and he cocks his head, "That is all you take? Are you disenfranchised as well?"
"Not exactly- look, can you take me to my berth?"
"Of course," His head bobs as he turns, leading you up the ramp, "Of course."

The cutter was meant for a system patrol ship, not for comfort. The cargo hold stripped empty complete with torn out walls and lockers will barely fit all fifty of you. Mats are lain down with blankets at the ready- there are some quarters, but as the pilot explains, they're already reserved for other passengers. The crew apparently scorn such luxury, instead alluding to 'cradles of hope.' Whatever that means.

You won't have privacy or comfort, but you'll get to Ramnes cheap. One of the kinder followers of the singular is kind enough to grace you with an extra pillow in light of your elderly condition.

A hard steel floor and a mat that offers barely an inch of cushioning. Your knees and back cry out at the thought of it.

The other passengers filter in. Soon, you'll be remanded to the cargo deck- the crew make it clear that you won't be locked in, but they would appreciate it if passengers limited their explorations after they launched from the vessel.

You check the vessel in the mean time. One of the followers, a woman who is too old for this kind of nonsense is glad to show you around the vessel as you confide you're pretty new to this space travel business.

Fresh and new cabling, they'd stripped out the older Senatorial gear and got it updated to something modern. Off brand Xerco gear it seemed. No weapons, but the airlocks have some failsafe controls with updated software. A real hacker would clear it in a cinch, but an old script tool could be fooled. Fuel and amenities were a bit lower than you expected, most of the budget went in the front end you're guessing. No one, aside from the frowning pilot was a veteran.

Very fresh ship. The only two things old were the frame, and the senatorial grade relay designed to piggyback on the Royal Road system. The most valuable thing, though your tour guide didn't seem to notice it, leading you right past it. You guess only the pilot would notice.

Due to the cramped spaces in the actual ship, you're forced to leave your armor in the cargo bay. It waits on your mat, impatient.

Everything seemed normal for a refurbed pilgrim ship. The dour man was the only wrinkle.

>Confront the pilot openly. Admit you're a former soldier too.
>Confront the pilot openly. Don't play your hand.
>Lure him downstairs. See if your armor can suss out the chip with a ping.
>Leave him. Let him bear his secrets in peace as well.
>Other.

>>33552609
>>Lure him downstairs. See if your armor can suss out the chip with a ping.

>>33552609
>>Lure him downstairs. See if your armor can suss out the chip with a ping.

>>33552574
>mentally send a message to the Singulars
thought we were going with the patrol cutter which was 175 as >>33552084
>825 toman left.
implyed?

>>33552609
Is there a way he'd be able to tell he was getting pinged?

If he'd be unable to detect us, lure him downstairs and try it. Otherwise, leave him in peace.

>>33552664
Sorry if it wasn't clear, the 175 one was one and the same with the singular's cutter. The 100 price was for the faithful and worthy, which you're not. But the 175 price was still in play for heathens. I bad writter.

>>33552665
>>33552663
>>33552643
You outrank him. In the old days, underlings don't have a chance to talk back.He won't be able to detect it unless he's really and truly borged out which you're really confident he isn't.

Quick post for once. Writing.

>>33552609
>>Lure him downstairs. See if your armor can suss out the chip with a ping.

>>33552725
>Sorry if it wasn't clear, the 175 one was one and the same with the singular's cutter.
ah right then, it read like in the previous update that the cutter and the singular were separate

>>33552725
u no bad writer

You hesitate at the entrance to the cargo bay again, and turn to your tour guide. The woman looks at you quizzically.

"Uh, listen, listen I'm sorry but, I have to ask- are you sure the cabins are taken?"
"I'm quite sure sir, I'm very sorry," She does look very sympathetic, "But our word is our bond."
"Yeah, yeah, I get that, but c'mon," You gesture to yourself, "I think I could get a little extra accomodation."
"The pillow wasn't enough?"
"Consarnit ma'am, weren't you listening?" You raise your voice a little. Glance beyond her, down the tubed hall, and up the ladder. He'd have to hear it, "I'm-I'm sorry I don't mean to be angry-"
"Sir, please," She's getting flustered, raises her hands, "We've done all we can, and you've already gotten preferential treatment-"
"A pillow is preferential treatment! What kind of ship d'you have here?"

There you go. You hear a noise of steps from above, and start to see the pilot coming down. You step back, waving your hands.
"I mean come on, mats? We have a spaceship for crying out loud, you can't even build a bed and bolt it down? Mattresses are cheap, I could get a hundred mattresses for how much it cost to fly on this rust bucket!"
"We, we believe in a simple life," She's getting exasperated, brings a hand to her head- looks behind her and sees the dour man and breathes a sigh of relief. His eyes still don't look the right way as he lays a hand on her shoulder, leans in with concern.

"Something the matter?"
"Yes!" You raise a finger, step down in to the cargo bay, going to your mat- the armor has already pinged him in the entryway, but you go for broke. You really don't want to imagine the agony of sleeping on this thing, "Yes there is sir, this! This is the matter!"
You point at the mat. The man frowns.
"We already gave you a pillow."
"You can't do anything better than that? Good grief, I'm at death's door already, you want to help me over the edge with this treatment?"

The captain sighs and looks up with a plea, "Okay. I'll go get your money."
"Now hang on a minute I never said I didn't want to fly, just, in decent conditions."
"No, you want a temper tantrum to get you something you don't deserve," The pilot looks down his nose at you, shaking his head, "And I won't tolerate any more of it. You stay, you sleep on the mat. You want another ride, I give you back the money, and you go. Deal?"
"I just-"
"Deal?"

You sigh in exagerrated defeat, "Deal."

He turns, walks away with his fellow missionary in tow. The other passenger look at you with some bafflement. You stand next to your silent partner, looking through what he found.

>Deserter Found.
>Tag not present.
>ID Chip Secured
>Name: Colin Shar.
>Former Rank: Banner Bearer
>Former Unit: The Seventeenth Muster of Seraton.
>Duty: Mobile Police, Corfu.
>Last Reported Mission: Decimation of Erot Academy
>Service history analysis...
>Service history analysis...
>Sub par soldier. Zealous enforcer. Sadist. Enjoys inflicting pain on those weaker than him. Gravitated towards duties placing him in positions of power. Coward. Deserted in face of secessionists, hides from past.
>No threat.
>Current Scenario Assessment: White.
>Recommended Course of Action Based on Scenario: Execute Providers of Shelter, Capture, Flag for Magistrate to Return to Unit for Execution By Method Six.
>Magistrate Report sent. Please capture.

Somewhere, an unwatched server would receive a message never to be read.

Another runaway. The musters of the last era were cannon fodder, an attempt to put rebels in line with enough boots and rifles. Not worth caring about. You're sure there's hundreds like him. Those that managed a near escape and found religion.

>Leave him. Settle in for the ride.
>Find him. Confront him with the truth.
>Find him. Blackmail him for your advantage.
>Other.

>>33552741
>My fault, sorry. Mangled that post.

>>33553110
>>Leave him. Settle in for the ride.
We can sit on the information in case we need it.

>>33553110
>>Leave him. Settle in for the ride.
its handy knowledge to have, but using it now would only cause problems, lets leave it as our ace up our sleeve for know

>>33553110
>>Leave him. Settle in for the ride.

OH MY GOD ITS THE LAST COMPANION AGAIN.

The first thread was amazing, archive binging.

>>33553136
>>33553148
seconding

>>33553110
>Leave him. Settle in for the ride.

Letting the past stay in the past. Writing.

the rest of the passengers filter in, finding their mats. Bums, vagrants, runaways, some of the faithful smiling vaguely around like they were in a field of flowers and not the bowels of a third rate ship. You settle down and wait and immediately regret it as fire lances up and down your back. Nothing for it. With a groan, you settle yourself on the meager pillow, stuffed with hopes and dreams and remarkably little that was soft. You'd rather sleep in your armor.

You're vaguely aware of the feeling of movement, of a dull roar seeping in through the bowels of the ship as it moves out. The quick flop as your body gets used to the ship's grav field separate of the station's, and then a slight feeling of vertigo as it pushes its throttle and makes for the road. A momentary flash of light, a creeping wail, and the ship cuts its engines, letting the road take over to drag it to Ramnes. You shut your eyes.

You don't exactly sleep so much as lose track of the time. You come to on occasion. You're not sleeping so much asYour right side aches, but good luck sleeping on the left with your headache and the nausea. Your ear has started hurting, and you have a ringing that comes close and fades.

Your armor is crouched beside you, invisible. What would you do if it weren't? That'd be a bit of a shock for people. Trying to dismantle a piece of armor, carrying it across luggage, bringing it back together, that would be a pain. Charkh were designed for this kind of work. Good at hiding.

That's probably why you're the last.

You hate this haze between consciousness and unconsciousness. Made you emotional and nostalgic. Things that had happened years before sit at the forefront of your thoughts, as worrying as what you'd eat for breakfast, or if your disease would catch a march on you and kill you before you woke up.

Your right ear is working fine, and through the mat and in to the floor, you hear the engine rev up again. A split second later, your armor lets you know that it senses the transport has started up again. It taps the ship's status- out of the road. A ring interrupt then.

You sit up as your armor streams the chatter from outside.
"I say again, I say again, target, would you care to identify yourself?" A stranger's voice.

"I already told you, we are the Virgin Berth, and we are moving our way to Ramnes," Your pilot Colin.

"Did, haha, oh man, did you hear that? Virgin-" Another stranger's voice.
"I say again, unidentified cutter, please identify yourself immediately, or we will be forced to overtake and board you."
"For heaven's sake, we already told you, we are a ship of pilgrims, pilgrims!"
"Pilgrims don't have money," One of the voices sniffs, annoyed.
"But they failed to file a flight plan with the proper authorities," The first stranger has a harder tone, "And we've had a dry run."
"YOU'VE had a dry run. I'm sitting pretty- tell you what, you wanna grab a lot of robes and holy verse have at it. I'm bugging out. See you at Hotel Bravo."

Your suit taps in to the ship's sensor suite, but gets nothing. This close to a royal road, the interference was hellish to get through. Anything smaller than a cruiser was invisible to most commercial ships. You're unable to get a bearing, or any idea what you were facing.

"So. This is about money then."
"Your ship looks dangerous, looks like you took off the weapons, but we can't be sure, can we? Inspection time. Stop, and prepare for boarding."

A shakedown then. You look around for spare paneling to hide your things in. You can play at being a monk perhaps, someone with a vow of poverty.

"No. That one's mine."

A fourth voice, heavily distorted. And from a direction you can identify. Big ship.

>Get your suit on.
>Stay still and quiet. Don't overreact and freak out the passengers.
>Get to the cockpit now.
>Other.

>>33553846
>>Get to the cockpit now.

>>33553846
>Get your suit on.
If we can bag ourselves a ship that'll make getting places that much easier.

>>33553846
>>Other.
Go somewhere quiet but private, get the suit on and wait to see whats happening while we get a better handle on the situation.

>>33553846
>Get your suit on.

Alas I must head to sleep but I just wanted to say I love your writing and I look forward to reading more of it.

Suit up. Writing.

Holy shit I was wondering if you were going to do anything else with this, good to see you have.

You look around- no one else is awake. Right, you're the only one that can hear this. Around the rest of the dim cargo hold, you can make out sleeping lumps, or small whispering huddles. You try to get on your feet- your suit hauls you up.

"Ooookay then, he's all yours chief!" Your would be pirate is quitting the field without challenge. Bad news.

"Good. Virgin Berth. Move away from the ring. Collect your passengers. Power down your engines."
"What? You have no right"
"Force of arms are the only source of rights. I will put holes through you, and sift through your frozen corpses if I must."

Not your run of the mill pirate then. Your tag probably. You move quietly as you are capable to a corner. You could pull a magic trick, step into the suit and seemingly disappear in to thin air. Be hard to explain if a passenger saw
"We are a pilgrim ship-"
"You are my target. Last chance."
"Okay! Okay, we're moving-"

Wouldn't take long before they start to get to work. You can survive without atmosphere easily, and your suit won't be noticed. You go for a darkened corner, and stretch your aching limbs as you get dressed for war.

The low thrum of the engines stills again.

"Power. Disengage it."
"You won't hurt us?"
"Priming missile."
"Okay, okay! I get the picture."

The dim lights go off. Murmurs of confusion among the passengers. They're unaware of the gravity of the situation.

Your suit helpfully reminds you that you can survive exposure to the void, but lack any ability to maneuver within it. Any conflict outside of knife fight range for space was a ticket to cold madness.

Currently, your suit was stymied by the ship you were in. Get a drone outside via airlock, you might be able to see what you were dealing with, plan around it. Assuming nobody notices you opening an airlock.

You estimate the crew and passengers have maybe twenty minutes before they run out of air.

>Give it time. They'll board.
>Go for the airlock.
>Go to the cockpit.
>Other.

>Give it time. They'll board.
Get drones into position by the airlocks and a drone into the cockpit. Find an optimal position for yourself in the meantime. Wait, listen.

>>33554233
>Give it time. They'll board.

>>33554233
Seconding >>33554272

>>33554279
>>33554273
>>33554272
Lay in wait with eyes wide open. Writing.

Two drones- one on the airlock, the other up in to the cockpit. Get eyes in the proper place. Comms are quiet. For your part, you get creative. Get away from the cargo berth- armored though it was, it was a big open room begging for a hull breach. You walk to the stairs up to the crew quarters, and squeeze the door open just enough to let the drones through. There's a crewman, your tour guide nearby, watching the door and glancing over to the cockpit anxiously. Two shimmering unnoticeables the size of your thumbnail drift in. You direct one to the cockpit. The other you give especial instruction too.

Through the drone's eyes, you drift it in to the kitchen. No one there. You drive it into a glass left on a counter. It doesn't exactly have a lot of horsepower, but enough time and effort, and gravity does its job.

The woman jumps at the noise of shattering glass and rushes for the kitchen. You step through the unwatched door, and shut it quietly behind you. You aim for the comm relay you saw earlier. There'd be a link in the cockpit, and if that went down, you think they'd have move on their plate than fixing the radio.

In the cockpit, you see Colin is an unpleasant color staring at the vidbanks. One of his fellow poorly dressed cultists is coming in when the drone drifts in.

"Brother? Any demands? Are they drawing nearer?"
"No, nothing yet," Colin swallows his fear, looks up at his fellow cultist and tries his best to look serene, "Fear not. Even if we die here, we shall be preserved."
Weird words, but the cultist nods, smiling back benignly, "Quite. We are beyond their reach."

"Virgin Berth," The mangled voice speaks over the radio again, "Thank you for your patience. We are sending a shuttle over. Allow it to dock, and continue to follow our directions."
"Of- Of course."
"Good." Click.

ETA, ten minutes.

>Any other preparations?
>Also, do you guys mind if I sleep here, and pick up tomorrow using this thread/a new one at 7:00PM PST? I'm starting to nod off.

>>33554671
Sleep, OP. I can barely think to type.

>>33554671
>Any other preparations?
If we've got drones to spare, start having one or two go exploring through the ship, those religious guys words are rather unsettling and make me feel something up with the ship.

>Also, do you guys mind if I sleep here, and pick up tomorrow using this thread/a new one at 7:00PM PST? I'm starting to nod off.
Not at all, go get some rest, we'll try to keep the thread alive.

>>33554747
>>33554759
>Good good, that's excuse enough for me. Night folks, next time conflict time.

>>33554759
Man not every bunch of religious blather is code for a kool-aid cult.

>>33554772
Well I'd rather be safe than sorry, I'd hate for our final adventures to be cut short because of some random fanatics

>>33554786
>inb4 they worship the dead companions as gods and you are being a huge faggot

>>33554812
>and you are being a huge faggot
how?

>>33554879
Well its less faggot more overly paranoid, but I felt the need to insult you

>>33554891
Thank you for being honest and civil about your hostility, may I perhaps redirect you to the nearest QTG?

bump

Bump of life

bedtime bump, can some other anon keep this alive please?

bamp

I'll take it from here don't worry.

bump

Bump

bamp

Bump

Bump

bump

Rolled 17

>>33551578

You know, we really should've just gone to Ramstep first. Anyone with half a brain will guess that's where we're headed once we shut off our tracking beacon.

Oh Christ, I forgot entirely. I'm sorry guys I ended up having to do something tonight. Please let this thread die.

No worries, op. Catch you next time.

>>33571079
For a quest this good, I can wait.

See you soon.

>>33526630
Anyone have the link to the last thread?

>>33573573
http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive/27910496/

>>33571079
no probs OP, thanks for the thread so far, any ideas when you'll continue this?

>>33573691
I'm making a guess at Sunday, but I might be able to swing something more during theweek. I'll try to post to QTG a head's up when I get a certain date/time.

>>33575367
well depending on how long you intend for this to run you might want to get a twitter for it, but either way, I'll keep my eye out for it