Miles
Spoiler: SHOW
It tastes like chicken. Except for the fact that it's dry as a bone and tough as nails, it's not half bad. You're glad you got that water, though.
Glancing over the room, you notice there aren't actually many other clearly-marked "inmates" around at the moment. Actually, you notice that the room is gradually filling up with people. Nemesis crewmembers are heading over to the counter, forming a line, getting their rations and sitting down at various tables. Most of them wolf down their ration bars with a ferocity that doesn't even seem human. They must have jaws of steel. You try not to stare at them.
Inevitably, it isn't long until someone comes to sit down next to you in the other chair you set up. You first notice her from across the room, as she approaches from the kitchen window. She's a pale-skinned girl roughly about your age - or, rather, what age you seem to be due to your cryostasis: about 22. Her light brunette hair that comes down just below her chin. She holds her meal-to-be, looking about shyly for a place to sit with her drink and ration bar, and, as mentioned, you have one of the few open seats at this point. She comes and sits down across from you, smiling in embarrassment.
"Hi," she says softly, neatly placing out a napkin, her drink, and ration bar on the table. She glances up, notices you staring at her, and giggles faintly as she looks back down. "You must be one of the people out of cryo, yes?" When you don't answer her rhetorical question, she swallows, seeming to feel mildly awkward, and tries to start up the conversation again. "I'm glad it wasn't me. I never was good with exciting things... I have a tendency to... well... faint sometimes," she admits, but then seems to internally question her reasoning for saying it. She picks up her ration bar - fruit flavored - and begins to nibble at it. "I'm Anelle, the chief librarian... or, I was the librarian," she giggles again, "before that portion of the ship got destroyed. Now, I'm... well, I don't know what I am."
Lemons
Spoiler: SHOW
She's impressed. "Yes!" she exclaims. "You are an engineer."
"I'm home-brewed," you say, shifting the analyzer slightly in your hands to get a better grip on it. "At best. Out of date with new equipment, sadly. I can tell it's DiUrt, but can't tell the generation. Sturdy thing, though."
She nods. "It's 14th gen, type C. Designed to hold together if roughed around, though it loses a bit of accuracy on microscopic scales for it. I'm Sanya, by the way."
"Alexei. Nice to meet you." Then, "Looks like the rear panel took some damage. Might want to check the radiator. Radiation unit comes loose in these DiUrt Sevens, it may have."
For a time, you help out Sanya and some of the other engineers in the lab. Many of them are stronger than you might have expected in a typical lab setting, which almost surprises you. You imagine Tartarus keeps these people at least somewhat combat-ready, just in case you get boarded. You're still a step above most, though. Your assistance is frequently requested - you've become almost popular. This suits you. You're able to show off a bit of your engineering knowledge while helping them get things sorted, and many of them - not just Sanya - take a liking to you. Sanya, though, seems to like you more than most, going as far as to follow you around a bit as you assist her with cleaning up her section of the labs. After a while, she asks if there's anything she could help you with. You decide to make an inquiry on military tech. "I was hoping wizard people here at labs have cards up sleeves. Anything I can help bring to action?"
She looks at you, puzzled. "You mean, can I give you some of the stuff here for you to take on missions?"
"Yes."
Sanya looks very uncomfortable at this request. "I.. I don't know," she mumbles, twisting a bit of cabling in her hands and looking away. "We aren't supposed to let anything leave the labs without permission. I don't want to get in trouble...."
((Failed charisma roll. She likes you at least, and that's always good, right?))
Saoirse and Bob
Spoiler: SHOW
Mr. Hoffman nods and laughs, beginning to say, "Well, lass, I do my best to -" Then he pauses, as though questioning himself.
Saoirse continues. "So, what I had in VR worked fairly well - a whacky spinny saff thing on a quick slot thingy, and a PSI pack with an electro, stasis, and gravity amp. If you have that. Actually, those might be handy to help around in the ship if anything needs to be moved forcefully, or electrified or something... Oh, and do you happen to know what happened to our personal belongings? Or who do I need to ask that? I know it's stupid right now but I kinda miss my bagpipes..."
Bob's eyes brighten; he looks at Saoirse curiously. "Bagpipes? Does Saoirse-Boss play musics? Bob loves musics. Old Boss (friendly boss) always used to play music for Bob when it was dark..." He grins widely, as he remembers the time he spent with his old boss. "Could Saoirse-Boss play some music for Bob and Jimmy?"
"Well, I need my bagpipes first," Saoirse replies carefully, "But... yes, after that, I could." She levels a meaningful gaze at Mr. Hoffman.
Mr. Hoffman was paying close attention to the entire conversation; he eyes first Saoirse and then Bob carefully - Bob being taller than him by a fair margin. "Well," he mutters finally, his lips twitching a bit, "I guess I could help you out. I'm under very strict orders not to hand out weaponry... but I could potentially get you some PSI packs." He seems mildly uncomfortable with this course of action, mumbling aloud to himself as he walks away toward the darker recesses of the armory. Then he executes an abrupt about-face. "It's this way," he chuckles, then resumes the same frown.
Minutes later he comes back with some equipment: an old, well-used PSI pack, painted with REKT colors, several amp cartridges, and - gloriously - Saoirse's bagpipes. "Now," he says sternly. "Remember you are not to use this on other people, lass. The amps, I mean. I'm forbidden to give out weaponry, remember, but if you use this to help us repair the Nemesis... well, keep in mind, this is on both of our necks." He sets the PSI pack and accessories down in front of Saoirse, and hands her the bagpipes. He's holding them the wrong way. "I also can't get you the kinetic battlestaff yet, but I'll mark it up as something to give you when they send you out." Then he hands Bob his teddy bear, Jimmy. "Had the stuff stored for you. We got it out of the nacelle around the same time as we pulled you out. I got sent some of the bigger things for safekeeping. Hope this is what you were looking for. Is there anything else I can do for you?"
Just then, someone else walks in and starts announcing his name, and intentions, to Mr. Hoffman. Apparently, his name is Brom. "Greetings, Mr. Hoffman! It is I! Brom Keegan. Lord of Ermhelm's underworld, charming merchant and master assassin!" He seems an interesting fellow. Mr. Hoffman soon gets caught up in talking to him.
Frank
Spoiler: SHOW
Brenna seems absolutely shocked that you'd still offer to help you, but accepts it very gratefully. "Yes!" she bubbles joyfully. "I can handle the counter, but... the lights - " she turns halfway and points behind her. "Yes, you can help with the lights. There's some wiring under the counter I was trying to fix it with, but... well, I don't know, it's broken really badly or something. I'll handle the counter, if you can fix that? And then the refrigerator in the back isn't functioning for some reason - It's plugged into the wall and everything, too." Without a moment's hesitation, she opens the kitchen door and lets you around to the back, where she's standing. Someone else shows up at the counter just then, and you're left to figure out for yourself what was going on with the lighting. First, though, the fridge.
The "fridge" turns out to be a very large, long, deep box that undoubtedly used to contain frozen food - now it contains unfrozen food, and much of it is just beginning to smell. It's a freezer, essentially. Unfortunately, it slid away from the kitchen wall at some point. The power cable snakes across the room and plugs into the outlet at the other side - horrible design. Someone could trip over it - and undoubtedly has. It's definitely plugged into the wall, though. On a whim, you look behind the freezer and notice that it's not plugged into the wall. With some great acrobatic effort, you manage to get behind it, reach the cable, and plug it into the back of the freezer - which begins humming softly. With that fixed, you extricate yourself and head back to the counter to check out Brenna's "lighting problem".
As it turns out, it's a simple fusebox - which something has smashed into very, very roughly at an angle, leaving a sharp imprint with a broken, battered casing. Brenna's attempts at "fixing it" have left the wiring much more convoluted than before. It was a simple problem: the power shorted. Unfortunately, instead of simply replacing the faulty wiring and fuses, Brenna opted to rewire the whole thing from scratch, essentially, sans fuses. The box of replacement fuses is mounted right there next to it. Somehow she seemed to have completely missed the fact that it existed. There's several completely toasted pieces of wire scattered around as well - as though she tried to replace the fuses with them and they charred from the excessive flow of electricity. There's enough tools available, at least, so you get to work.
Before long, you have the entire wiring system for the kitchen and mess hall as a whole repaired. Some of the lights for the mess hall still won't turn on - this is likely because of broken cabling in the ceiling - but it's good enough for now. You stand up, brushing your smudged hands off on your jumpsuit. "Lights are fixed," you announce, and Brenna, having already noticed, greets you with an enormous hug.
"Thank you so much!" she exults. "What was wrong with it?"
Caleb
Spoiler: SHOW
Lydia laughs softly, a sort of muted chuckle. "We's all prisoners here, boy. But that ain't what you're asking now, is it?" She takes a few steps into the room, searching the walls for something. She seems to find it after a moment, heading toward one of the walls between two of the beds. There's some kind of panel there, jammed shut. She adjusts her mop handle, and the end becomes a sort of wedge-like tip, with which she begins trying to pry the panel loose. "What you're asking is, am I a criminal. And that, boy, I'm not supposed to tell you. It's that ol' computer-brain's doing." She grunts, and with a heave, the panel crashes to the floor. There's a mess of wires behind it - some of them look scarred. Lydia gives a pleased chuckle, feeling over the frayed cables with her hands.
"You keep your eyes open, you're likely to learn a lot more by yourself than you could ever learn from ol' computer-brain," she says, focused on her work. You step beside her and try to watch what she's doing. It looks like she's rubbing some kind of salve onto the cables. You assume it's nanobots, due to the strange shimmer. "Things aren't always as they appear. Mama Lydia... she look like an old fool, don't she? Bit shady, people say. Nobody trusts me, really, but sometimes... sometimes, boy... people change. You shouldn't be askin' me who I am, I might lie to you. Never trust who someone says they are, or what someone else says about them. Find out for yourself."
She takes out her mop again, and taps it gently among the cables, which have started to look a lot better. "And remember... If you ever feel lost, like you do now... let your questions light your way."
Suddenly, the room behind you lights up, positively aglow with light - not uncomfortably so, either. Mama Lydia then shuts them back off with a few switch flips, and replaces the panel. Then, she turns around to look at you, taking a step back, her head cocked to one side, hands resting on the handle of her mop. She's not remotely pretty - pockmarked, scarred, wrinkled, somewhat overweight, with wide lips pursed into a smile. You could see how someone could think she seemed shady, just from her appearance. "Mmmmmmhm. You're looking for answers now, aren't you, not riddles. So I'll answer your questions. SCAMPS can get mad at me if he wants, but he can't hear us right now. Yes boy, I was a criminal. But things can change. I'm not down here doin' my cleanup and fixing power because of my past. I'm here because that's where I'm needed." She pauses, then turns and starts to hobble toward the door, once more using her mop as a walking stick to pick through the rubble on the floor. "And where are you needed? What are you good at, boy? Where do you want to be needed? You don't always have to be an outcast, you know." She reaches the door - and this time, it opens for her without any intervention. Mama Lydia looks back over her shoulder with a pleased, toothy smile. "After all... things can change."
You get the feeling that she's been trying to tell you something deeper - more meaningful - than what it seems on the surface; that she's hinting at something she's not supposed to say out loud.
Buck
Spoiler: SHOW
While you're initially headed down to the engineering section, figuring that's where most of the computer terminals would be, you soon find one in an alcove just off the central hallway - an easy access point. You sit down and start scoping out what you can view, starting with your authorization levels. It's a different OS than you're used to, but you've always had a knack for computers. This is no exception.
A lot of stuff is off-limits and requires a DNA scan from Captain Machellan to be decrypted. Among these are the mission Nemesis was on, contents of the cargo holds, engine schematics, SCAMPS information, just as a few examples. You're apparently being treated as an ordinary crew member. The public files are still quite accessible at least.
The Nemesis has crash-landed on a planet called Nanyej. That much you knew. As you pore over the maps, you notice a Hiltorel colony called "Huhoba Qitsit" a short distance away. This is notable mainly because Nanyej has something closer to Earth gravity - 0.92 Gs, according to the files. Hiltorel are more comfortable with 0.5 Gs. You flip a few more pages and start reading a list of statistics. Interestingly, Huhuba's population is roughly 25,000. It can't be a very old colony.
Scrolling back a bit, you start looking up other points of interest in the system. The Nanyej system is a disputed area, supposedly within the Hiltorel reservation, but also claimed by the Outer World League. It turns out there's a gas giant near the planet you're on, simply named Nanyej II, in an orbit fairly close to that of Nanyej's. It happens to be hydrogen-rich, and is a favored spot of hydrogen miners. Nanyej's official name is Nanyej Prime, while the single hot Jupiter nearer to the parent star is simply called Nanyej I. Nanyej Prime also has a relatively large moon in fairly close orbit - it seems there's a significant trading base built there, owned by Ganglion Industries, an alien-based, politically neutral company. There's also a smaller moon orbiting slightly father away - this seems to be purely rock and is largely barren.
Brom
Spoiler: SHOW
Mr. Hoffman is somewhat taken aback, and startled, and turns to you with a stern look, eyeing you up and down. "Ah, Brom Keegan, is it," he says, recovering from his momentary surprise at your grandiose entrance. He quickly walks over and shakes your hand vigorously. He's an older man with a tight face and well-manicured white beard, wearing a dark green ballpark cap. "I am he, as you know. Hoffman, Chief Armory Officer, at your service. Nice to make your acquaintance. Is there anything I can help you with?"
"Yes indeed," you admit. "Great as I am, I was hoping to learn a bit about the recent advances in weapons tech."
"Ah, right," he mumbles, slightly crestfallen. His lips twitch a bit. "Recent advances... well, we don't stop by Tartarus often, so we don't regularly get new shipments of goods. Our tech lab can produce prototypes from schematics we have uploaded to us, but mostly they're not much different than they were fifty years ago. Our biggest advances over the past fifty years or so are in the areas of psionics and anomalous materials. A lot of our weapons are higher grade than those you'll see out in most of the galaxy, but this is usually limited to CASKET tech. Our infantry tech is mass-produced and cheap. If you don't have any piloting skills, you might want to learn some. They'll come in handy."