The beginning of your new and next life.

"Miss Shanesseigh?" asked the hawk-faced secretary, poking his head around the door and peering over his spectacles at the trio of stone-faced uniformed women sitting in cushioned chairs in the waiting room. "They are ready for you. Best not keep them waiting."

The red-haired woman sitting next to Sabine nodded and stood up, then paused as Sabine reached out to touch her hand. "Good luck, Meg," she said, giving her hand a squeeze. "Knock 'em dead in there."

Meg Shanesseigh snorted. "Don't wish me too much luck. You might be needing it yourself. Besides, I might edge you right out of the program."

"Eh." Sabine shrugged. "I'm not worried about that. You take my luck. I won't need it." The two women exchanged self-assured smirks that convinced neither of them. Sabine saw Meg swallow hard, felt her return the squeeze, and then let go. Meg adjusted the lapels of her uniform jacket and the position of the beret under her arm, straightened her spine, and marched stiffly out of the room and out of sight, accompanied by the secretary.

Sabine was left alone with the one other remaining woman in the room. There had been twenty of them at the start of the day, but she was one of the last two. This was the curse of having a clan name starting with "T". She always came near the end of alphabetical lists, especially since well over half of the planet's population had no clan name and had to go by their patronymics - patronymics which nearly always began with "Mac-" or "Nic-".

The only other remaining person in the waiting room had her nose in a book and seemed totally at-ease. She was a dark-skinned woman about five seasons older than Sabine, whose dress uniform sported the midnight blue jacket and crimson kerchief of a major. Sabine felt under-dressed in her lieutenant's black and forest green, though she was pleased to note that the major only had a single golden starburst emblazoned on her lapel. One in-space combat, the same as Sabine herself.

There was a fourteen-hour analogue clock on the wall. Its ticking provided the only sound in the waiting room. After a few minutes, Sabine found her finger idly tapping against her leg in rhythm with the sound.

"Are you next, or am I?" Sabine asked at length. The major put a finger in her book to mark her place and looked up.

"Almost certainly you," the major said in a husky alto. Her accent was crisp and precise. She was from the city, not the outer provinces like Sabine or Meg. "My clan name is Walsh."

"Ooh..." Sabine winced in sympathy. "That's unfortunate. I'm a Tolmach, and I already was near the end of every list at the academy. What I wouldn't give to be a Byrne."

"Or an Aalanach," agreed major Walsh, and the two women shared a grin of understanding.

The secretary reappeared a few minutes later. "Miss Tolmach?" he asked.

"That's me." Sabine rose to her feet, placing much of her weight on her cane - an elegant piece made from polished dark wood and inscribed with the Tolmach clan sigil. She adjusted her jacket, did up her top button, and nodded to the other woman in the office. "Nice meeting you, major Walsh. I wish you luck." Then she clicked her booted heels together and followed the secretary out of the room at a brisk march, her can making a rhythmic "tap, tap, tap" on the tiles all the way down the hallway, fighting all the while against the butterflies kicking up a storm in her stomach.
This message was last edited by the player at 06:46, Thu 04 Feb 2021.

The secretary lead you to a door marked "Colonel Calum McGowan - Adjutant Ministry of Space Warfare" Looking at you over the wireframe of his glasses he opened the door revealing a spartan office, flanked to her right by a window looking out over the Capitol city complex below.

The Colonel sat behind a cluttered desk as Sabine entered the moderately sized room. To her left, an arrangement of filing cabinets, a book shelf and a wall of medals, awards and unit plaques. To the very far left, behind the desk there was a closed door.

"Miss Tolmach." He states neutrally. "Please, have a seat."

He was not alone in the room. Standing in the far right corner, looking out over the Capitol a tall shape in what could only be described as advanced battle armor, sans helmet. Sabine had only ever seen the like in video stills of Indaris troops. The foreigner does not seem to respond to your appearance, appearing to be lost in thought.
This message was last edited by the player at 10:18, Sun 23 Feb 2020.

"Thank you, sir. It's an honor to be here, sir," Sabine says. She assumes an expression of unconcerned discipline: eyes hooded, lips together, teeth apart, chin up.

She takes the offered seat across the desk from the Colonel and rests the cane against the arm of the chair. She is fighting not to fiddle with the hat under her arm, and becoming momentarily very aware of the position of her hands. They hover for a fraction of a second before one moves to the arm of the chair and the other to rest on her knee. She allows herself a single glance towards the armored foreigner, and then locks her eyes staunchly forward, waiting for further prompting. When in doubt, only speak when spoken to.
This message was last edited by the player at 04:08, Mon 30 Nov 2020.

"So. Miss Tolmach," He shuffles some papers in his hands briefly and then sets his eyes on yours making eye contact and holding it. "What exactly do you think you're doing here? You're a cripple. An invalid" He holds up a hand to pre-empt any objection. "You are. Despite your Intel and Social scores, which I won't deny impress, your spine and legs are... insufficient. You don't have the physical capability to meet the requirements and yet you've pushed on. You've taken medical exemptions, you've found sympathetic officers who are willing to push you on for your whole career and you've never taken 'no' for an answer up to this point. Yet, you are walking with a cane into my office and I know you can't hold yourself physically to any of the other women in this program."

The armored man in the corner shifts slightly, not turning to see you, but perhaps to listen to your reply.

"So why are you here? Why are you wasting my time?"
This message was last edited by the player at 10:18, Sun 23 Feb 2020.

Seasons of military service have left Sabine well inoculated to such comments, but the Colonel's cold delivery combined with his rank do cause a slight tightening in her jaw all the same. When she speaks, however, it is with practiced military poise - steady and direct. "Sir, with all due respect, I have not come here to waste your time or my own. Regardless of my physical condition, sir, I'm one of the best options this military has. I graduated second in my class from Colebeinn fleet academy - and I'm sure I needn't remind you, sir, that the calculation for the end-of-season grade at the academy includes an assessment of athletic abilities."

This is an understatement, and both she and the Colonel know it. The final exam for the physical portion of the Colebeinn training program is a rigorous obstacle course which the entire class attempts to complete at once. The path is narrow, the time limit is strict, and anybody who doesn't complete the course in time is highly unlikely to pass the program, let alone achieve a high rank on the grad list.

She pauses in thought for a moment, examining the Colonel, then says "Sir, if I may, do you know how I passed the physical portion of the program, sir? It is relevant to the subject at hand, sir."
This message was last edited by the player at 06:48, Thu 04 Feb 2021.

"Go ahead, Lieutenant." He clasps his hands together and watches you with an inscrutable expression, challenging you to tell your story. In the corner, the 'alien' or 'outsider' or whatever you want to call him, seems to pay no attention to you or the conversation happening inside the office. As if he were a ghost, not really there at all.

"Sir, I knew from day one that I wouldn't be able to complete the test in the traditional manner. I'd already had six seasons* to get used to having my bum leg and deficient muscles; the restrictions that came with it were nothing new to me. So, from the first weight room session onward, I was paying attention to different things than my classmates. I was watching my drill instructors, paying attention to their teaching methods, thinking about why they made the choices they did. At the same time, I looked for other people who were struggling with the physical aspects of the program. I found seven of them, mostly other women, all on the verge of dropping out of the program. I gave them the help and attention they needed to stay in it; late-night training sessions, setting up and running mock-ups of past training courses in the gym based on stories from past graduates, putting those self-taught drill sergeant skills to some use to give them the personal attention and advice they were needing but couldn't get in a class of six hundred." Her shoulders twitch in the tiniest of shrugs. "Not exactly SOP, I know, but the school staff knew what I was doing, and they never put a stop to it. Even quietly encouraged people to show up to our little impromptu training sessions. Sort of an unofficial extra gym period. Nobody else showed up quite as consistently as those first seven, though."

"I took on a lot of the others' responsibilities around campus to free up their time for additional training. I spent nights and lunches in the library researching, not just for my own tests, but also constructing study packets for all of them. It was brutal, but it paid off; by the end of the program, of the original eight members of our little team, there were still six of us enrolled, most of us flying high. And, in exchange for my efforts, when it was time for us all to run the obstacle course, those other five hung back with me and kept the way clear in front of me; formed a wall with their bodies. We were so coordinated by then that we didn't even have to look at each other to maintain formation, and the other students were so confused they stayed well clear; we barely met any resistance on most of the obstacles. They gave me a leg up when I needed one, and I called out plays as we approached each obstacle. We ran and jumped and crawled, practically in lock-step, all the way to the finish line, chanting a marching tune all the way." She smiles at the memory. "In case you're wondering what happened to the others of our little posse, sir, I believe that one of them - a Lieutenant Megan Shanesseigh - was in here just before me."

*Seventeen Earth years.
This message was last edited by the player at 06:45, Thu 04 Feb 2021.

The Colonel listens to your story with a blank expression on his face, you might even think it was disapproval but there was something else...

By the time you finish, he looks over his shoulder at the other figure in the room and you see a smirk on his lips.

"I told you, Emissary." His smirk became a full grin as he turned back to you. "She's one tough mother bitch."

For the first time, the alien moved and turned turned to face you. His suit was unlike anything you'd ever seen, barely only a passing resemblance to the combat armor worn by Hegemony Astral Troopers. This was far more sleek and to your eyes, it looked more advanced, if that was possible. All thoughts of this were instantly forgotten as you saw his face. He looked human, tanned skin, a nose, mouth, hair, two eyes... but his eyes glowed with a bluish light, he had no pupils or irises that you could see, simply a glow like moonlight emanating from his ocular cavities. It was impossible to look right at them without feeling pain in your own eyes.

He then spoke, with his mouth to the Colonel and at the same time, impossibly, directly into your mind.

"I see what you mean, McGowan. You've not disappointed at all." His face appeared neutral. You felt his mind touching yours, something that only the monks on your world could do, or so you had believed until now. The rumors of Hegemony priests had proven true, although this man looked nothing like a Hrafnhelmr monk to you. Perhaps he was of the ruling class in the Hegemony? "Lieutenant NicDirhom. I've been wanting to meet you for months now. We have had our eye on you. My name is Aeson Indaris."
This message was last edited by the player at 07:49, Fri 28 Feb 2020.

Sabine tenses in surprise and automatically looks over her shoulder before she realizes where the second voice is coming from. She's encountered monks before - every task force she's ever been a part of had at least one of them on its staff, and there were a pair of them - bald, thin men in grey cloaks - who checked in at the academy every couple of months for inspections. However, all her contact with them had been distant and impersonal. Though she knows intellectually that many of them could speak directly into people's minds, she's never experienced it before.

"Sir, I'm glad to have lived up to your expectations, sir," she says, struggling to keep her voice steady.

Curious as to whether the link he has established flows both ways, she decides to try to speak back to the Emissary. She focuses on her internal monologue, trying to make it as loud and clear as she can, and says inside her mind It is an honor, Emissary Indaris. Thank you for your interest in me, and for your Hegemony's interest in my homeworld. Are you of the same House Indaris that gives the Hegemony its name?

She has been reviewing everything currently known about the Hegemony in preparation for this meeting, but still feels very much in the dark about more subjects than she would prefer. She watches him closely to see whether he reacts at all to her message.

The Colonel appears to be interested in something on his terminal, for the moment leaving you unattended, but the strange man with the glowing eyes has you in his full attention.

"You've learned a bit about us, not that I am surprised given your reputation. Yes. I am the third cousin of the Princeps Rex Vaynre Eculvari Indaris the Second, our ruler, our Prince of Worlds and Lord of Houses. Master of the Indari Hegemony." Aeson smiled enigmatically and Colonel McGowan began to speak.


"You may not be entirely clear on the purpose of the purpose of the Space Warfare Loan Program you have been selected for. The essence of it is that we supply native personnel... in short, you... to the Hegemony Diplomatic Corps. More important than that, the man standing there beside me is an Emissary. His purpose is to meet with other powers, other cultures, and negotiate an understanding, a peace between them and the Hegemony. That is why he is here. Hrafnhelmr is a prime candidate to not only join the Hegemony, but join the Hegemony Astral Forces Auxiliary and most importantly... form a new House recognized by the Star Court, which means a degree of sovereignty for our planet and the ability to enter into the politics and marketplace of the greater galaxy." He smiled strangely, no doubt enjoying the effect all this is having on you.

"Hel, I haven't even ever set foot on one of their ships and you're going to be living on one of them for the foreseeable future. In a lot of ways, I wish our places were reversed, Lieutenant."

"I hope you understand how important this is to our planet and the Papar Order. We are investing a lot of faith in you to represent our entire world out there in the Hegemony. Having said all that... do you have any questions?"
This message was last updated by the player at 08:21, Sat 29 Feb 2020.

Sabine stares in disbelief for a moment, then shakes herself out of it and says "S-sir, just to be clear, are you implying that I will be working alongside the Emissary? Aboard an Indari diplomatic vessel capable of interstellar travel?" She feels slightly breathless, and has to clasp her hands tightly on the arms of her chair to avoid wringing them in front of her like an overexcited schoolgirl.

"That will be up to the Emissary, but yes... at least for a while, you will be living on an Hegemony Starship as you are taken back for education by the Diplomatic Corps."

McGowan smiled widely, but you could tell he was envious of your position.

"Don't screw this up Lieutenant. This is your last chance to ask questions. If you accept, you're shipping out in the morning. That's less than 6 hours, so say what you're going to say." The Colonel watched you carefully as you had been given a chance to speak. Aeson seemed distant, as if focused on something else and not entirely there.
This message was last edited by the player at 10:09, Sun 01 Mar 2020.

"Of course I-! Ahem. Yes, I accept the offer. No further questions, sir, beyond the time and location where I am expected to show up in the morning," Sabine says, placing one hand on the head of her cane in anticipation of her dismissal. "I am sure I will find out any necessary information upon my departure or during the journey, as it becomes relevant. I stand ready to serve the Order, sir. And the Hegemony now, I suppose."

"The Emissary will take over from here, Lieutenant." The Colonel stands up and offers you his hand. "Good luck, NicDhirhom. I expect you'll be outranking me the next time we meet." The man had a wide smile on his face, in start contrast to his stern expression. Of course he knew everything about you. Everything but seeing what you were made of for himself and now he had seen that as well as well as the Visitor.
This message was last updated by the player at 08:52, Mon 02 Mar 2020.

"Thank you, Colonel McGowan, sir," Sabine says. She adjusts the beret under her arm, pushes herself to her feet with her cane and then, with expertise born from long seasons of experience, deftly tosses it to her left hand to free up the right one to shake the colonel's. "I hope to do you, and my planet, proud."

She then turns to the Emissary and raises her right hand in a Hrafnhelmr two-finger salute, punctuated by a sharp click from her dress shoes and the tip of her cane. "Lieutenant Tolmach, reporting for duty, Emissary. Requesting any pertinent information on the topic of tomorrow's departure."
This message was last edited by the player at 06:49, Thu 04 Feb 2021.

You barely manage any sleep at all, excited as you are for the following morning and by the time the suns are in the sky, you find yourself at the D-19 Black Site, AKA "First Contact Landing Site"

A veritable fortress built around the field where the first Hegemony ship touched down and Emissaries came forth to treat with the Order. The local population was relocated for kilometers in all directions to keep this secret at first. It didn't take long before news began to spread. Within a few years, everyone in the system knew about it. Still, D-19 stays operational for "security reasons." There are elements that do not accept the Outsiders with open arms and want them dead and gone.

You'd seen the figures. The idea that anyone could openly resist was absurd. The Hegemony could have dropped billions of tons of rocks on Hrafnhelmr without so much as a 'how-do-you do' and there's nothing the entire fleet could have done about it except watch as millions died in an extinction level event, and if they were feeling less subtle, they could have simply deployed some of their impossible warships and nuked every continent into radioactive ash.

Past the security checkpoints, the towering obscurity walls with turrets along the rim, AAA and SAM batteries arranged with radar posts to provide maximum coverage. Past all these things was the landing platform, and on it, a bizarre vessel. It looked like a massive foil fish, Hrafnhelmr's version of something akin to ancient earth's manta ray. Wide and flat and thin, very little features on it that looked like a space ship to you. It had some features that were similar to cutting-edge hypersonic re-entry gliders, but it also had no obvious propulsion systems or control surfaces. You couldn't imagine how it could possibly take off, much less land in any controlled manner. Near the vessel, there was a Hrafnhelmran technician speaking with a towering figure in what you recognize as an "Indari Contact Suit." Basically, a massive faceless shell of powered armor, environmental support equipment and weaponry that the Hegemony representatives often appeared in during contact with other cultures and civilizations. The idea, as far as your scientists could determine, was that they be heavily protected but also present a terrifyingly transhuman figure to anyone they met.

Sabine shows up to the launch pad wearing her black and forest green dress uniform - the same one she had worn the day before, having washed it in the wee hours of the morning in lieu of the sleep she knew wouldn't come. Now that she's outside, her black velvet beret is on her head, set at a slight jaunty angle that skirts the very edge of regulation. Her cane's taps on the tarmac are consistent and confident, and, at first glance, an onlooker unfamiliar with her condition might mistake her limp for a barely-contained skip.

She comes to a stop in front of the odd shuttlecraft, eyes scanning over it in an appraising manner before they come to rest on the pair of mismatched figures. She strides towards them - tap, tap, tap - and comes to a halt just far enough away that they can lower their voices if they don't want her overhearing. Unsure of what else to do, she braces to attention and raises two fingers in salute.

"Lieutenant Tolmach reporting for orbital transportation as ordered. Nice ship," she says, casting another appraising glance at the the smooth, polished metal just a few meters away.

The hulking figure turns its head towards you as you approach, the local technician is silent and then backs away, turning and walking quickly towards more familiar humans. There had been a rumor for sometime that the Indari representatives were not human, simply that they looked like you or that they in fact were in service of some horrifying alien species that needed them to deceive you into joining the servitude of a vast star empire.

Of course, officially that was all nonsense, but a faceless two and half meter tall machine which may or may not have had any human life inside it certainly made such reservations understandable.

A mechanical voice issued from the suit. "Lieutenant. Please, if you have any belongings or cargo, we can send someone to retrieve them. Now. Please follow me." The hulking figure swung about, surprisingly agile for what must have been easily half a ton if not more. It began to walk towards the ship and you could see now that there was an opening in the belly of it with a ramp that fed into the ship. The craft itself was not entirely smooth or featureless, there were obviously seams in the panels where the components parts came together and numbers of small blisters you could only surmise were sensor modules of some sort. The hull of it seemed to thrum slightly, and you suspected that the whole thing was powered on and idling as if they were planning to leave quickly. Did they even need lengthy pre-flight checks like you'd see on Hrafnhelmr vessels? No visible cockpit or glass anywhere on the ship, either. The whole thing seemed almost like a magic chariot or fantastical ocean beast than a space ship.

The officer gestured you up the ramp with a powered gauntlet.

In spite of herself, Sabine feels her mouth go a little bit dry as she approaches the ramp. She falters as she enters the ship’s shadow, then visibly braces herself and strides forward with confidence. One foot lifts and comes down on the metal of the ramp... and then she pauses. Still with one foot firmly planted on her homeworld, she addresses the officer in the encounter suit.

“Ah... there’s a local tradition to observe before we depart. My apologies. It won’t take but a moment, I promise.”

She locks eyes with the Hrafnhelmr technician, who hurries forward again. Sabine twists a small pewter ring off her finger and palms it. Then she reaches under the collar of her uniform tunic and pulls out a pendant on a chain, looking like an extremely ornate dog tag with the name “Tolmach” emblazoned on it, brass on black iron. She lifts this off over her head, folds its chain in on itself with a few practiced motions, and then passes the handful of metal - both the ring and the pendant - to the technician. Both bow their heads at the moment where their hands touch, and then the technician takes a step back, holding the ring and pendant in his cupped hands.

“Alright. Now that’s done with,” Sabine says, then lifts her other foot off of the tarmac and walks the rest of the way up the ramp.

The interior isn’t exactly what might be considered spacious, but after two seasons spent aboard Hussar-class vessels – spacecraft with such cramped cockpits that the tactical officer couldn’t wiggle his feet for fear of kicking the pilot in the head – the Indari ship seemed thoroughly palatial.
This message was last edited by the player at 06:47, Thu 04 Feb 2021.

The Officer watches you silently in their encounter suit and you get the unshakable feeling that you are being appraised. There are no visible sensors on the suit or the helmet, however, you know they must be able to see you somehow. Perhaps not even in the visible spectrum of light.

You step onto the ship and walk up the ramp into the ship. Right inside there is a cargo space in the belly, with several strange larger canisters strapped into the walls and floor. The boarding ramp continues up past the cargo bay into the habitation module of the ship, precisely what looks like two rows of seats with harnesses and stowage compartments below them. The inside of the ship is covered in what appears to be some sort of fabric material and there are very few right angles or sharp edges. Everything seems to be precisely engineered for the exact dimensions specified. Beyond the passenger cabin, you can see what looks like the crew compartment with room for two. There appears to be another Encounter Suit in what must be the pilots station, hooked directly into the ship via several cables.

There are no view-ports of any kind, but as you approach, images appear above the surface of the bulkhead and the ceiling, revealing an ultra-high resolution real-time images of the outside of the ship, as if the hull was transparent and you could simply look out at the tarmac, the black site and the sky above. Hegemony Holographic technology before your very eyes. The pilot presses something on the holographic console and the outside view disappears, replaced with a soothing bluish-white pattern.

With a soft hiss, the ramp closes up behind you and the other Encounter Suited Officer who silently looms past you to sit down in one of the passenger seats. A harness folds out and locks into place around the Officer's armor, holding them safely in place. The ship is almost entirely silent on the inside, only the softness humming all around you, mostly from the control consoles and a more bass reverberation coming from the aft.

Sabine cautiously reaches out one hand and brushes her fingers along the holographic "screen." She has to suppress giggles of delight watching the subtle way that the patterns shift as she applies careful pressure to the wall. Only after a few moments of marveling, both at this and at every other aspect of the ship's internal design, does she notice that the officer has locked themself down and that the hatch has closed.

"Uh..." she says, hurriedly hobbling over to a chair and following the officer's example by strapping herself in, "Sir? Are we not waiting for anybody else? Or a truck of crates, or... something?" Hrafnhelmr rocketry is leagues better than it was a few decades ago, but atmospheric lift vehicles still use old fashioned chemical aerospike engines for the first stage of ascent. As a result, sending a vehicle to orbit is still so expensive that, to Sabine, it feels wasteful to the point of madness to send a ship into space with this many empty seats, not to mention so much empty space in the hold.

Of course, she has yet to understand the full implications of gravitic technologies or modern power sources.

"Unnecessary. We are eager to proceed with your induction. The next shuttle rotation will carry up whatever supplies or sundries are necessary for your assignment and comfort." The mechanical voice is almost dismissive as if the occupant is distracted by something else. Of the handful of Hegemony representatives you'd personally met in your life, all but one had been wearing this sort of encounter suit, with no indication of who or what lay beneath. There were rumors that they were simply machines, but that couldn't be possible, could it?

There is a moments silence and the soft humming and whirring continues. The faceless head turns and seems to focus on you. "My apologies. You probably want to see your world before we leave it behind." Without so much as a gesture, the wall holographics morph and reveal the sky around and above you and the myriad lights of your world spread out below you like a massive glowflower field in summer. You know these patterns, they are the major cities of Hrafnhelmr. You couldn't even feel yourself moving. If not for the displays, you'd think you were still parked at D-19 idling on the landing platform.

_"Whoa."

The word slips out before she can stop it. Her pulse quickens. She can feel herself grinning like an idiot, and her eyes going wide as saucers as she looks about. A giggle - girlish and exhuberant as always dammit! - bubbles up in her throat and escapes. She reaches out again, placing her hand on the wall, planting her feet firmly on the cabin floor, reminding herself that it truly is just a display. It does take some reminding. As far as her instincts can tell, there's nothing between her and the stars, or the planet below. For one moment, it's just her - sitting in a tiny chair, a speck floating against the majesty of the infinite cosmos. The landscape below is dark, with a crescent of illumination still visible behind the ship. The sun is just cresting above the horizon, and it's sinking. It was morning when she left.

We must be going West, then, notes a disciplined part of her mind - the part trained for seasons as a navigator and pilot. And that means that my homestead is right... about...

"That's... that's Cynedyr city!" she says, swallowing the lump which has formed in her throat. She points down at the planet below, at a splotch of dull orange light glowing softly against the rapidly-darkening landscape. Cynedyr was one of the rare, lucky cities outside of the Iron Coast which had electric street lamps and a developed power grid - although many of the locals still did use oil lamps for indoor lighting. "I was born on the outskirts - a little rural homestead about ten klicks outside of town. But... Cynedyr is well over five hundred kilometres from the first contact site. Gods, even if we took off the moment the ramp raised, we can't have been in the air for more than a few minutes! How fast is this thing going!? What's the acceleration? I didn't even feel a nudge!"

She turns back towards the emissary, her eyes bright with curiosity. For just a moment, her usual stoic facade - built up over the course of many seasons trying to be taken seriously in a masculine-dominated military - has shattered, blown away like scraps of morning mist before the gale of her shock and wonder.
This message was last edited by the player at 06:48, Thu 04 Feb 2021.

The shuttle continues up effortlessly defying gravity and known physics in fact with a silent grace and ease. It doesn't really even feel like you're in a ship at all, more like sitting at home in your chair in front of a triprojector, watching some sort of science fiction ROM or educational program about space exploration. You keep reminding yourself you aren't wearing vidlenses or looking at your wall. As you call out your city, your host taps on something on the wall with his fingers and looks back up to you. A small glowing halo appears over the exact location of what must be Cynendyr City, outlining the natural orange glow. Data and text appears in lines around the halo and it quickly becomes clear that your world is well mapped out by the Outsiders.

You can almost sense a smirk under the helmet of your host, assuming there's a human face there at all.

"We're pulling a little over 100Gs at the moment, but we're already about to decelerate and make the initial approach to the Turpal's Star" He gestured towards the display in the ceiling of the craft and another halo appeared, circling a small, but glimmering glint of something, brighter than any of the stars. As the atmosphere faded to black and you could look out, the stars were bright and you could catch glimpses of what you thought might be local ships or satillites, maybe even one of the small stations that orbited your world.

"A hundred-!" Another giggle, tinged with hysteria, forces itself past her lips. "That's, uh, going to take some getting used to. I'm used to flying in Hussar war skiffs, and... um, never mind." She had been about to comment that Hussars could pull only about 6Gs, and doing so was only done during combat maneuvers. A sudden surge of embarrassment stopped her. It was simply a technical fact, but admitting how far behind her homeworld truly was felt like a betrayal, somehow.

Instead, she turned her attention toward the forward wall. At their current speed and acceleration, she knew intellectually that there was no way she would see their docking target until a second or two before they arrived. Even so, she found herself scanning the black sky ahead for a telltale glitter of reflected sunlight.

"Sssoooo... The masks. The encounter suits. Now that we're off Hrafnhelm, are you planning on continuing to, uh, present?" She indicates the host's armor and gives a wry smile. "I see the appeal of remaining aloof. Our Hrafnhelmr monks maintain an air of mystery. I only mean that it will be difficult to work in the diplomatic corps if I can't read expressions and don't know the names of my comrades."
This message was last edited by the player at 18:31, Wed 20 Jan 2021.

"Much faster than that and our navigational field will start to heat up too much, spoil the view." The figure looked at you curiously from behind the metal mask. "I've studied your ships capabilities extensively. It's part of the Contact Preparation Protocols we all go through so there won't be any surprises during acclimation." There was the slightest shift in the ship and you could see that glimmering speck, outlined by the holographic display, growing larger, but slower. Your transport was decelerating and only a tingle in your inner ear even registered it.

The vessel began to take shape to your eyes, the size was impossible to gauge without reference, but it was long and narrow, it looked something again to a sea predator, sleek with lines that flowed into themselves and split almost organically. The bow, at least you assumed was the bow, was almost a needle point it seemed and the aft was a tight cluster of what looked like flutes bundled together and tapering down from the widest point of the vessel perhaps two-thirds back from the bow ending up creating a silhouette that was half razorfish and half wind instrument. The skin of it was glimmering in the light of the Muninn Sun. You begin to see the crimson bands indicative of the Indari Starships on the surface.

"It would be foolish to remove my helmet until I returned to my own ship. Even with our technology, some basic principles..." The officer raps the top of his helmet with armored knuckles. "such as safety, remain the same." You sense the officer is enjoying it a little bit.

"Besides, you may not be assigned to work with me. I just happened to be scheduled on this haul when you came by. There's several ships like this all over your planet, running missions daily, ferrying personnel, material and the like to ships in orbit or sites on the surface." The officer stops. "Well, actually. It didn't just happen. I requested this flight. I wanted to see what kind of person you really were, Lieutenant Sabine Tolmach NicDhirhom."
This message was lightly edited by the player at 06:41, Sat 23 Jan 2021.

Sabine self-consciously brushes a short lock of dark hair behind her ear. "I, uh... I'm flattered?" Her eyes twinkle with amusement. "I hope my wide-eyed tech-oggling was to your liking, and that I lived up to at least some of your other expectations. If this is the only time we meet, I'm pleased to have made your acquaintance and I thank you for your hospitality."

She bows as best she can while strapped into an acceleration couch, then turns her head to observe the approaching vessel more closely. She makes note of as many features as she can manage, looking especially for docking umbilicals, arms, or... bays? Was this ship - this... Turpal's Star... a large enough vessel to have a docking bay? Even now, it was difficult for her to judge the silvery leviathan's scale. The odd zero-inertia acceleration of the shuttle was throwing off her sense of distance.

"...But it's just 'Sabine NicDhirhom,'" she adds absently, not taking her eyes off the approaching ship. "Clans must stay with their land. My clan-name will remain on Hrafnhelm until my journey ends and I return to reclaim it." She glances beyond the growing bulk of the ship at the endless abyss of stars and the ominous red smudge of the Brigitte Nebula. "...However long that might take."
This message was last edited by the player at 10:38, Tue 26 Jan 2021.

The mechanical voice laughed. "I've been doing this for a while. You aren't the first alien I've talked to, but the Hegemony sees value in your culture and your civilization, otherwise we wouldn't here asking you join us." The metal head swiveled away as if they had heard something. Probably a radio transmission coming in, based on your understanding. Although in the back of your mind the word sits like a splinter "telepath."


A moment of silence and the officer does something on their wrist controls and points towards the holographic display inside the ship. A glowing circle appears around a distant star. Then, it enlarges to a picture-in-picture display, zooming in to show... a huge starship. It takes you only a moment to place it, even without the text telling you what you were seeing. The HAV Champion with a few escort ships, greatest among them, the twin Dragoon class ships known as Prince and Thunder. Ships you would know anywhere at sight, almost sacred in their representation by the priesthood as nearly folk-hero status. Brave and intrepid star warriors who beat back the eternal night and protected the commonfolk, doing battle with horrific villains and monsters in the Night Above.

With a moment of shock down your spine and a twitch in your fingers you register what appears to be an intercept course with only one possible objective... the alien vessel, the Turpal's Star.

The officer made a noncommittal sound and you finally heard something from the pilot of the ship. What sounded a bit like a grunt and a flurry of activity at the controls. Your minder spoke again and now strangely, their voice was even more flat and toneless. "It seems your navy is here to make a show of force." The tiny drive-plums of Hussar-class ships dotted the darkness, no doubt members of the 3rd Space Wing protecting the homeworld in concert with the rest of the homefleet that could be mustered.

The alien ship grew on it's own display in the shuttle, becoming larger and more detailed. You began to realize it's massive, perhaps close to the size of the Champion, give or take a few hundred meters. What seems to be a hanger bay has materialized near the midships on the hull facing you. It's not hard to surmise that is the destination of your flight.

"What?! Why!?" Sabine tenses, grabbing her cane with one hand and holding the other against her chest, ready to remove her restraining straps at a moment's notice. "What in the frozen pits of Hel are they playing at!? You're our allies!" She watches with some consternation as the enormous Hegemony ship approaches and fills her vision. If she goes aboard this ship full of aliens, and her people are making aggressive moves... how safe will she be, really? Where she was so excited a minute ago, now her stomach feels like it's collapsing in on itself like a dying star. The starship she had been admiring now looks very much like a crimson-striped doomwhale, jaws spread wide to swallow her whole.

You couldn't have asked for a better view of what was happening. The interior of the shuttle is a full 360 theater, with telescopic images of each vessel being tracked, showing the action in almost a cinematic way. It was clearly intended to impress, although the information is a bit superfluous for a tactical display. This was definitely for VIPs and not a combat bridge. Still, it looked incredible if the danger wasn't so very present and imminent. The officer rose from their seat, a frightening bulk of metal and plastics sliding beneath a fabric "skin" in places, exposed in others. Silently, he or she (or it) crossed the distance to the command console and conferred quietly with the pilot before looking back at you.

"We're being waved off. Turpal's Star is turning to confront your homefleet." The voice was matter of fact, even through the modulator. A moment passed and you realized they were relaying what they were being told through the wireless. "There's been a coup attempt. Admiral MacCarren has taken up arms against the priesthood and the 'invaders.' They're calling themselves the Faction of Dùn Èideann." Ahead, you could already see the shuttle changing direction, breaking off away from the incoming system ships and past the Hegemony cruiser. Points of light blaze in low orbit across the surface of the planet. Ballistic missile launches from defense satellites. The orbital guard fighting against the homefleet? Or joining them in attacking the Hegemony? It would take nearly half an hour for them to reach their targets even at the absolute closest ranges. To the starboard side, the panels showed the massive ship moving about, changing her heading towards the incoming fleet. Her aft glowed eerily, a pale blue like stories of the Will'o'the'whisp, but nearly as bright as the suns. She simply twisted in place, moving like your feared doomwhale as if she was in the ocean not space. No attitude thrusters or the like burst from her hull in their bizarre impossible method of space flight.

The Champion and her escorts hadn't fired yet, a little quick math and you determined they were just minutes out from their weapons envelop. If they meant harm, they would open up with nukes, assassin drones and "the Big Gun" on the Champion, the Pumped Xaser that put out invisible death, cooking its targets and disabling any ship that happened to fall under it's deadly gaze, yet the alien ship was closing the distance eagerly.
This message was last edited by the GM at 07:10, Tue 02 Feb 2021.

Sabine's pulse pounds in her throat. "S... sir, if that's true, we need to leave. Give the monks time to sort this out. The Order knows what they're doing, they - everyone in the fleet, everyone in the Astralle, we're all pledged to serve the Order. There will be dissidence among the crews of those ships, and fighting them is... would be..." She shrugs helplessly. "That's the entirety of Home Fleet out there! Three designated combat vessels, built for the crushing violence of line battles, and they're powerful ships, sir. The big ship is HAV Champion. Its Gáe Derg system redirects a significant portion of the energy of a shaped nuclear detonation into a beam of x-rays! I don't care what kind of mystical super-tech you people may have, that thing will f... will ffffuck up anything in its path, sir, pardon my language. Which is to say nothing of the dozens of nuclear missiles they can collectively send our way!"

She shakes her head convulsively. "And sir... I can't believe - I won't believe - that most of the people over there have truly betrayed the Papar Order. This isn't the first time a coup has been attempted, but the Order has maintained stability ever since the Scream. They just need time to figure this out, and they won't have that if half the fleet is in shambles due to a confrontation with... I don't actually know what your ship can do, but... Please. I... We can't do this. Not now. Not as the start of... Sir, it's my first fucking day on the job!"
This message was last edited by the player at 08:41, Tue 02 Feb 2021.

The officer looks at you, faceplate emotionless as you spill out your thoughts. "It's not up to me." Is all they have to say and of course it's true. They're just an officer, not in charge of the military strategy or policy or commanding a warship. Spots light up on the incoming fleet, missile launches. Nuclear torpedoes, assassin drones, a bright and obvious indication of the homefleet unleashing their fury on their prey. Any other ship would be obliterated in the explosion of small stars and vicious hunter-killer drones intended to evade countermeasures and blown in the hull from an unexpected angle. As the streaks of fire begin to be tracked across the darkness streaming towards the Turpal's Star, you can see the defense missiles trying to reach the homefleet. The Prince slipping into place and shooting them aside with a laser screening maneuver and protecting the fleet, a fundamental space warfare tactic. It was almost impossible to believe... the orbital defense, loyal to the monks and the homeworld, firing nukes at the homefleet, supposedly the protectors of the entire Order.

There's a moment of static on the screen. Instinctively, without reason, but at your very core, you know the Champion has fired her deadliest weapon and... the Turpal's Star flickers strangely on the screen and keeps on coming. Maybe it missed? There's no way to see X-rays out in space like this. The missiles arc closer, but the Turpal's Star plunges on, straight at the homefleet without so much as evasive action and then you see why... assassin drones, wiggle off course, like wanderworms, losing focus and drifting away. Nuclear torpedoes drift right on by without an explosion, just lazy debris missing their target as if they couldn't find it anymore, as if their proximity fuzes simply failed... or worse, their fundamental mechanisms were somehow blocked. You know right now that hundreds of men and women of the Astralle... the rebellious Astralle at least, are saying prayers and clutching holy objects as they see an entire fleets attacks wither and blow away in the solar winds not so much as deterring that alien doomwhale diving up to them in complete disregard to orbital mechanics. The fleet begins to fan out, obviously realizing they will need to try and maximize their chances and swarm their target.

Why hasn't the alien ship fired? It's heading right for them, but... maybe their weapons can't be seen as visible light? So many questions...

"I'm sorry... there's nothing I can do except make sure we aren't caught up in this."
This message was last edited by the player at 09:13, Tue 02 Feb 2021.

Sabine watches the display in numb, dumbstruck horror. If that really is 3rd space wing, her old command is probably out there among them. And she has friends on some of those other ships, as well! Friends like...

Suddenly, she shakes herself, then undoes the clasp of her restraining belt with a sharp "click."

"Fine. Take us out of the combat zone. But let me talk to them. The Hrafnhelmr astralle is a small force. All the officers know each other, at least in passing," she says primly, hefting herself to her feet and walking towards the cockpit. Her cane's tapping is muffled by the carpeted floor. She stops, raises the cane, and points it at an inset image on the display - Thunder, one of the massive gunships whose torpedo arsenal had just wasted itself on Turpal's Star's wake. "That one. The first officer on that ship was my first commanding officer. He knows me. And... the security chief is a friend of mine from the academy. They wouldn't have turned traitor. If they're still in command over there - if they weren't relieved of duty - I might be able to talk them into a mutiny against their illegal orders. Convince them it's their duty to withdraw from the battle. Can you open a link? Use Sierra Three channel - I'm sure you know enough about our comms protocols to be able to fake the code. That feeds directly to the first officer's display."

Her eyes flick to the ungodly-fast monster of a ship bearing down on the fleet. With every moment she expects to see some sign of it firing: a flare of light, a bolt of accelerated metal, or, failing that, simply the flash of flame and destruction indicating a hit on one of the rogue Astralle ships. The tension builds within her chest with every passing moment that none of those things happen. What in Hel are they waiting for?
This message was last edited by the player at 10:11, Tue 02 Feb 2021.

"We're already leaving." It was true. You were making a break for it, the absolute distance was increasing although the telescope pictures-in-picture kept each ship and station in view. The shuttle must have dozens of telescopes or some sort of system that defied your understanding of optics.

Your minder looked back at you, and even through the faceplate you could sense tension, indecision... They were talking about it through their own private channels.

"Alright. Come up here, lets see what we can do." They held out a headset with a microphone to you. Your home fleet was still on screen, forming an attack claw often used against faster ships, but this one was so much faster. Another volley at long range, although now you had seen what happened. They'd have to get close if they had a chance. Still, the Turpal's Star rushed in faster and faster, not a single indication of fire from hull and the homefleet remained intact. Your companions, such as they were, were very tense.

But now, you had a chance to talk to your comrades and try to talk them down.

OOC: Make a persuasion check.

Sabine makes her way up to the cockpit and drops into a seat next to the pilot. The spaciousness and comfort of the shuttle continues to amaze her, but she pushes it down for now. There's no time. She takes a deep breath, then nods to the pilot. "Connect me."

She waits a moment until a small toll sounds, informing her (she assumes) that she's on the air.

"Donnelly," She speaks quickly, using the Gaelic-English creole commonly spoken in the countryside where both she and Major Donnelly O'Hara were raised. "Dia duit. It's me, Sabine. There's no time for pleasantries, you need to listen and listen well. I've heard what happened - at least I think I have. Information seems a bit thin on the ground right now. But some things are obvious. You are on the losing side of this engagement - that much should be clear to you by now - and the orders that put you there come not from the planet and the Order you swore to defend, but from an admiral acting on his own authority."

She shakes her head slightly, unsure whether he can see her or not. She's watching the displays still, fighting to keep the panic out of her voice as the ships race ever closer together. "I know you're not a traitor, Donnelly. You and the rest of men and women on those ships, you've just been put in a bad situation, caught between two authority figures. But one of those authorities is backed by the gods and a proven history of caring for our world, and the other is just a reactionary old man so scared of change that he'll betray his oaths and his entire culture just for a chance to beat his chest at what should be our allies."

"Those are not orders you are honor-bound to follow. Actually, honor demands something else of you. Something difficult, I'm afraid, and it will require a great deal of bravery. But something for which the gods and the monks will reward you: you need to contact NicKeefe, tell her to get together as many troopers as she can trust, and then the two of you together need to relieve captain McKeon of duty."

6:04, Today: Sabine NicDhirhom rolled 10 using 2d6+2.  Persuade.
This message was last edited by the player at 10:49, Tue 02 Feb 2021.

For what feels like a long, long time. You hear nothing. You wonder if you have even been heard. A thousand thoughts run through your mind. Static and then...

"Thunder bridge. This is a secure Astralle channel. What are-" Another voice. "Sabine... is that really you? Are you on that ship? Nevermind. I saw the missiles from the orbital guard... is he really going against the Order? We've had everything locked down, they're saying the ionsaí are taking control of the Monks, they're controlling their minds. I... I don't know what to think. We're fighting our own and that wasn't ever supposed to happen again." He sounds afraid, defeated.

Sabine lapses into silence for a moment, the wheels in her mind spinning so fast it felt like her hair would catch fire. It wasn't an entirely unjustifiable fear, come to think of it. The Indari clearly had some incredibly powerful telepaths available to them. Sabine didn't know the limits of their power, but mind control didn't seem wholly out of the question...

She shrugs. "I don't know anything about mind control, Donnelly. If you've seen compelling evidence that holds up under scrutiny, trust your own analysis and your own conscience. But if not, you need to disengage right now and take as many of the other ships with you as you can. I'm aboard the smaller Indari vessel - the one a few thousand klicks away, escaping the combat zone - and from what I've seen here, there is no way we - Hrafnhelm - could stand up to the Hegemony for long.  The admiral is picking an unwinnable fight, and I can't bear the idea of you dying for the sake of some idiot's ego." A fond smile touches her lips. "All due respect, sir, but if you ever die for an idiot's ego, I want that idiot to be you."

"You've heard my opinion, sir. Now you have a choice to make - a hard one - and for all my advice, I can't make it for you. Whatever you're going to do, do it fast. I don't think the Hegemony ship is going to give you much longer to decide."

There was a long period of silence and as you looked up, something caught your eye. The accelerating warships, having since flipped and were burning hard right towards Turpal's Star, one of the frigates, identified as the Thunder has spun back around and resumed decelerating, falling behind the rest of the fleet.

"Sabine, you're right. We've taken control of the ship and we're breaking off the attack, but the Admiral and Captain MacNamman have shut us out of their comms. They aren't answering." You can hear the faint sound of shouting in the background over the channel, someone is having a furious argument or just screaming at the top of their lungs.

The screen went static again as if something was disrupting it. A series of lights popped up distressingly rapidly across the console and faded out one by one. The Turpal's Star bow was glowing red-hot... the Gáe Derg found it's mark! Amazingly, the ship seemed to be still intact although logically, there must have been internal damage and casualties. An explosion erupted along the alien vessel amidships and you could see the telltale gas venting of a hull breach.

Finally, the glittering sign of a powerful laser beam reflecting on the hull of the Indari vessel held, but it seemed to do little if anything to the doomwhale. Another nuclear torpedo from the remaining Dragoon sailed right towards the ship, seemingly on target until the strangest thing happened. It crashed into the hull and skipped off undetonated... a dud? the 3rd Space Wing dove into attack next, armed only with their Javelin system they were doomed, what were they thinking?

Donnelly's voice came over the wireless again. "My gods, they're doing it..." he sounded shocked and uncertain, perhaps wondering if pulling back from the attack was the best course of action now.

The alien vessel responded at last, two tandem brilliant beams only barely visible in the expanding clouds of gas from the damage and the incoming exhaust clouds pierced the hull of the Champion and gouts of burning gasses spilled out as two burning gashes were cut through the proud flagship. Suddenly, the whole shuttle shook a little for the first time since you'd boarded and the two Indari looked at each other silently and then towards the screen. The Champion seemed to wobble impossibly in space and to your disbelief, a massive chunk of the ventral hull and structure... simply came off the ship all on their own, slowly spreading out in pieces with a massive plume of atmosphere following it out into the void.

You had only a moment to consider what you were seeing as the Hussars dove in on their attack run and the night sky lit up with thousands of tiny sparks. In a moment, four of the ships had simply exploded, leaving nothing but gas and debris. The other surviving eight of the squadron made their pass, firing the javelins to no effect and as you now realized, were trying to ram the alien ship, yet strangely they missed or... passed through it as it shimmered like a ghost in space.

"Gods," Sabine breathes, watching the flagship come apart. It looks like there's still at least some helm control: she can still see thrusters firing on parts of it, and the magnification is high enough that she can make out the red emergency lighting flickering on exposed decks as redundant power systems chug to life. It looks like a clean cross-section, an illustration she might have seen in the textbook at the academy. Only now the edges are jagged and warped, and in some places where the beam met slightly more resistance, the remaining ruins of bulkheads are glowing white-hot.

"They just... sliced it," she says, incredulous. "Champion... she just lost five decks! It didn't look any more difficult than my mom cutting vegetables in the kitchen!"

She gets up from the chair and staggers out of the cockpit, landing hard on her right knee and jarring it painfully in her haste to get closer to the wall display. Leaning in, she can make out a single lonely speck - one the orange color of a Astralle vacuum suit - drifting away from the crippled hulk that had once been the most powerful warship she had ever seen.

"Is... this what warfare is like? Out there?" she asks, looking back towards her handler, her voice full of horror, shock, and wonder, mixed together in a complicated, churning mess.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:48, Wed 03 Feb 2021.

The Champion is still in the fight, although obviously heavily damaged. The weirdest part about the huge chunk missing from the ship is that the lasers from the Turpal's Star never reached it, there's no white-hot slag there, instead cleanly cut titanium and steel, just... like you said, as if a giant invisible kitchen knife had sliced repeatedly through the hull through several decks and tossed them out into the void like so much sliced vegetables. Another burst of static, what you're begining to think is the backscatter X-rays from that terrible weapon, the infamous Gáe Derg, Diarmuid's Red Spear. This time, rather than the dreadful red glow spreading across the surface of the alien ship, the flagship shudders and arcs of lightning dance over the bow where the emitter would be. Her attack drone rushes in again, but this time the warhead slips through the ghostly ship and explodes harmlessly as if there was nothing there at all. They were all close now, within 1,000km fighting within near stabbing range.

Another pair of tandem beams trace the dark skies of your world, glinting through the clouds of dust, gas and debris and carve a third and fourth ragged white-hot scar in Champion then the shuttle shakes again, as if turbulence in atmo was affecting it... how was that even possible? Then the unbelievable happened again. On the other side of the flagship offset by maybe 50-60 meters, that invisible knife sliced in deep, chopping the decks into neatly cut pieces and flinging them out into the void. That terrible wonder weapon you couldn't believe you were seeing. The glowbug dots of the Hussar ships were fleeing, trying to break line of sight around the horizon and it seemed the Indari ship had no interest in pursuit, doggedly focused on the biggest threat in the system. Even the Prince, having done nothing but fire without effect, nuclear torpedoes malfunctioning at every launch and PD lasers nowhere near enough to match the void monster. Only the Champion continued on course, but based on the level of damage, you wondered if she could even slow herself now. Another hit like that and there wouldn't be anything left, just pieces of flagship cut into perfect little slices.

"That's just a single INS Cruiser." The officer stated flatly as the three of you stared at the display.

You heard a familiar voice again coming across the wireless, breathless and fearful. "They're surrendering. The Champion is surrendering."
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:47, Wed 03 Feb 2021.

Sabine strides back towards the cockpit, leaning down towards the console. Her voice cracks as she gives her response. "Thanks, Donnelly. You did well. Are you okay? I didn't see you take any hits. I hope there weren't any injuries while relieving the captain?"

She looks over her shoulder at the officer behind her. "I... should probably stop clogging up your comms. You're in command of Thunder now, for the moment, at least. I'm sure you're about to have loads of things to do." She hesitates for a moment before adding "I hope you didn't lose anybody close aboard Champion. If you're still in a position to do so in a few hours, please send me their casualty reports when they come in. I need to check a few names. Assuming I'm still in the system by then, which... isn't a certainty."
This message was last edited by the player at 03:46, Wed 03 Feb 2021.

"I'm fine. We have orders to return to Einar and wait there until someone way above me decides what happens next..." You can already see the alien ship, even with prow and hull scarred with damage closing the gap to the Champion. You had an idea what was next: Boarding.

"Turpal's Star has broadcast a warning for all ships to remain at least 200,000 kilometers away or be treated as hostile. Space Control is coordinating an evacuation of every manned ship below geostationary orbit either back down the well or to Einar. I have to go Sabine. Stay safe. Thunder bridge, out." The circuit went silent.

"I'm sorry you had to see that. We had suspicions this was coming, but not so soon. I guess they knew we were about to leave the sector and decided to strike."

Sabine shudders and turns around without saying anything. She makes her way back to her seat, sets her cane carefully leaning against the armrest, and re-buckles her restraining belt. She busies herself with adjusting the straps for far longer than she really needs to - long enough to get her heart rate back under control and allow her hands time to stop shaking.

"I've seen space combat before," she comments at last, running a finger over the single starburst emblazoned on her uniform's lapel in golden thread. "Or I... thought I had. When I was assigned to the First Space Wing, getting my 200 hours, my detachment was called up for a policing action along with two other detachments of Hussars and an Outrider frigate. A group of hijackers had been flagged by the Outrider on its way into the planetary system, rotating home from deployment, and we were the only ones close enough to get there before they could escape. They had taken refuge in an old abandoned monastery station in orbit well out beyond Einar. They still had their hijacked ship, but it was unarmed. We didn't expect any trouble from it. The problem was the point defense turrets mounted, apex and nadir, on the station itself."

She taps one finger on the arm of her chair in a steady beat. Her voice is matter-of-fact, relaying the facts without inflection, as if she was giving an official report.

"The station opened fire from well outside their effective range. We kited them, limiting damage to our wing. We knocked out one turret with javelins, and then we closed in to board the station in their new blind spot. The hijackers saw the writing on the wall, fell back from our breach points without firing a shot, started to negotiate. Only, halfway through the boarding action, a ship on the drift nearby lit up its drive and made straight for us, arming some light weapons on the way in. The Outrider couldn't maneuver away from the station in time to be of any help in the fight, and most of its crew was in the boarding force anyway, so it wouldn't have been much help if it could. It fell to the Hussars, like my ship, to see them off. Capture them if possible, destroy them if necessary."

"We fought them for about fifteen minutes straight, trying to draw them away and convince them to waste their ammo at long range. By the end, our Javelin system was out of rounds, and so was the rest of the squadron. Dirty looks and the toolbox, that's what we had left in terms of ammunition. Finally, the boarding party managed to take control of the station's command deck, fire up the attitude control thrusters, bring the enemy ship into the arc of the station's remaining turret. The enemy ship retreated then, tail between its legs. We had pumped it full of seventeen Javelin rounds and five shots from the PD turret. It wasn't even that badly damaged."

"That's what space warfare is here. There have been a couple of larger engagements over the seasons - we don't have Champion and Cataphract for nothing - but ultimately very few people live in space in the Huginn system, and most of those who do are loyal to the monks. This..." She gestures to the drifting hulk of the Champion, slowly revolving in an uncontrolled spin on the viewscreen and bleeding out its atmosphere into space. "This was unimaginable when I was growing up. And now it's... what? Going to become normal for me? Am I going to get used to this kind of destructive power? Is my whole society going to get used to it?! There's a scary thought!" In spite of her still carefully-controlled voice, Sabine has to raise a hand to wipe away the tears gathering in her eyes. "I'm beginning to see what those other emissaries meant when they warned us about the scale and brutality of modern war. And if this is the alternative, I guess it's a damn good thing you people have a diplomatic corps. I might have the opportunity, as part of it, to stave off future incidents like this in other systems."
This message was last edited by the player at 06:47, Thu 04 Feb 2021.

The last you saw of the orbital space around Hrafnhelm was the Indari Cruiser approaching the Champion and launching what must have been boarding pods, assaulting the ship to take control of it from the inside. Beyond that, your shuttle finally recovered to the ship and slid into the docking bay. You were ushered rather without fanfare towards the airlock, which curiously had been hidden behind the holographics, only becoming clear once they had shut them down showing only the stark mechanical interior of the small vessel. Once across the short tunnel to the mothership, you were greeted by a pair of martial looking men (you assumed) in combat armor, with closed helmets and Indari rifle-like weapons, though your understanding was that they were able to harness exotic energies for combat, lasers, plasma and other stranger forces. Your minder had left you in their care and left your sight, leaving you to be directly brusquely across the ship by armed guard.

From there you were taken through the ship along one winding corridor. The first thing you noticed before getting over the shock of everything you had seen in space was that Indari ships... or at least this one, were built wrong. Everyone who had ever had any spacer training or education knew that you built decks vertically perpendicular to the spine of the vessel. These people however, built them parallel the same way you'd make a naval ship on the ocean. As you had been taught to expect, they had artificial gravity on their ships, though they used no spinning rings or pods, it simply existed as if you were standing on Hrafnhelm back home. It didn't even feel weird, it felt entirely normal. In various places, you saw what at first seemed like they might be windows to the void, but quickly you determined they were simply (hah) holographics showing video feeds of the outside of the ship.

Several times you encountered teams of what seemed to be repair technicians using strange small tools and working on components that were concealed behind panels on the walls, deck and ceiling. When possible, your 'escorts' routed you away from them so as not to reveal too much to you. It was clear that you were not fully trusted at this point, and while they were polite, they were short, to the point and firm when it came to commands. The biggest shock was encountering a group of four of the famed Astral Troopers. You'd seen pictures of them, heard of them, but in reality to meet them was an entirely different matter. Easily over two meters tall, maybe close to two and a half, these giants were clad in mechanical armor that softly hummed and hissed as they moved. In the typical Indari style, they sported enclosed helmets, with only glowing red lights where their eyes would have been and were armed with massive weapons of an unknown type. Names and rank symbols were painted on the armor plates on the chest and shoulders. The taller of your escorts placed a hand on your shoulder and pulled you back gently as the four Astral Troopers stalked through the intersection, with only so much as a glance from one of the giants.

You were then led on only a little further to a cabin where they ordered you in and it quickly became apparent that you were confined to quarters, with only food delivered three times a day at regular intervals. All questions and protests were answered politely but with no real commitment. New clothes in the Indari style fitted to you were brought after your first sleep cycle and showering facilities (a strange thing on a starship) were available in your quarters. It was clear that the ship was still under battle conditions and occasionally you heard distant raised voices or felt a thump or shudder through the ship. A terminal on the wall had a fairly restricted library of both Hrafnhelm material and Hegemony cultural information with almost nothing about the ship itself or anything of military or strategic importance. It was about 30% harmless educational material, 60% cultural artifacts, music, stories, artwork, simple games and the like and 10% jingoistic propaganda.

After 78 hours being essentially held captive in this room, although incredibly luxurious for a starship by your standards, it began to drag on you and as you contemplated your future, there was a chime at the door announcing someone was about to enter. Far too soon for dinner however, something was different. The door slid open and there stood a tall blonde woman with green eyes, wearing an Indari Hegemony Astral Force Officer's Uniform, hands folded behind her back and a sword in scabbard at her side as was the style of many of the Astral Force Officer Corps.

"Sabine. How are you doing? Are they treating you well?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 07:25, Sun 07 Feb 2021.

Sabine, sitting cross-legged in a comfortable chair next to the terminal, jabs at the pause button on the song she's listening to, seizes her cane, and hauls herself to her feet as the door opens. She hesitates for a fraction of a second, trying to decide whether to salute or not, then decides against it. She still doesn't know the rank sigils, so she has little clue as to this woman's position or status. Besides, she hasn't been sworn in with this military. It's unclear at this stage whether that offer is even still on the table. To be safe, though, she settles into parade rest.

Deflect! Deflect! shouts a deeply-conditioned part of her brain. Who cares if you're miserable and worried? Don't complain! If you complain, it's proof that you're weak! "Yes, ma'am. Well enough." She gestures vaguely to the quarters, her clothes, and the cover image of the paused album. "The amenities are better than what I had growing up. With the exceptions of freedom and privacy, of course."

She looks down at the woman's sword, and a small smile tugs at the corner of her lips. "I'm glad to see swords haven't gone out of fashion in the wider galaxy, ma'am. Even though Hrafnhelmr nobles still carry swords, they're a dying tradition in the astralle. I personally think that's a damn shame."
This message was last edited by the player at 10:40, Sun 07 Feb 2021.

"I'm sorry." She laughs softly. "We spoke on the ride over, but I was wearing an encounter suit at the time." She's tall, probably almost 2 meters. Indari people seem to be rather on the tall side in general, which seems a little strange as they have artificial gravity. They aren't gangly though, in the way that spacers usually are, but rather quite filled out and muscular.

"Welcome to the Turpal's Star. I'm sorry we had to keep your here in this... berthing." She spreads her hands and shrugs apologetically. "Until recently, there were questions about your allegiance and possible place in the so-called 'Edinburg Rebellion'. That fear has been seen too and resolved. We're now certain you had no connection to this unfortunate incident and we'd like to continue with the offworlder program you signed up for."

The tall woman produced some sort of container from behind her and held it out to you. It was very large and after a moment she simply set it on the ground at her feet.

"This is... uh, well, it's a device that should help you. We spent a bit of time studying your condition and produced this in the workshops. We think it will really improve your situation, as we concluded you would be unused to full gravity aboard our ships." She shifted a bit, seemingly nervous, before straightening up. "Please open it and take a look."
This message was last edited by the player at 10:27, Sun 07 Feb 2021.

"Yes, ma'am." Sabine steps forward obediently and runs her fingers around the case's seam until she finds the latch. She looks up - way up - at the blonde woman towering over her, and her eyes twinkle with a barely-restrained smirk. "I appreciate the opportunity to continue my integration, as well as your generosity in presenting this gift - whatever it is - but don't think for a moment that it's slipped my notice by just how much you hold me at a disadvantage. I never did get a name from you during that shuttle ride, and that's getting more than a little bit infuriating."

She looks down and throws the latches. The case - as expected, frankly, given the general ubiquity of hi-tech solutions around here - eases itself open on unseen mechanisms to reveal...

"Master Quarnstrom." She smiles easily. "You can just call me Anika. I'm not your superior officer." Her eyes slid down to watch the container open. It folds out and there contained in what seems like fitted foam of some sort, a metallic apparatus which at first looks a bit like a scarecrow or a strange simplified skeleton, albeit one that's missing arms and a skull.

She reaches down and presses a finger into a small panel near the base of the 'spine' and steps back. To your amazement, it stands up on its own, two thin metal 'legs' and a short 'spine' with two pair of metal 'ribs' just above the 'hips.' It moves almost silently, with only the slightest hum as it erects itself on two contoured 'feet' which look a little bit like futuristic stirrups.

"Sabine, meet the RA-319A Caudal Harness. Originally designed and prototyped by Raset Industrial, we've modified it a bit and fabricated it to your measurements. It's essentially a medical exoskeleton. It will support your movements and weight and allow you to carry pretty much as much as your arms can take. It drains a Type-A power cell every 5 days of constant use, so keep that in mind. Now, it may take a little while getting used to using it, but we're confident that you'll find it easier than you might think to adjust to moving with the device." She pauses. "Unfortunately, we won't be able to treat your neuropathy any time soon medically, but this should help you deal with the artificial... and natural gravity fields you'll be contending with in your time with us."
This message was last updated by the player at 09:16, Mon 08 Feb 2021.

Sabine runs a finger along the metal arm of the exoskeleton, judging the resistance, the texture, the temperature. Five days of constant use, she notes. She is by no means an electrical engineer, but she doesn't think a Hrafnhelmr battery could power a machine like this for more than a few hours.

"Thank you, Anika," she says. "I'm sure this will be very helpful. I'm not sure what else to say... Can you show me how to get into it?"

There was one time during training when she had overexerted herself and was constrained to a wheelchair for a full week. She was still expected to go to class, of course, so getting out of bed every morning in a barracks full of all the other women in the training course was... embarrassing. Easily the worst part had been asking Meg to help her from her bed to the wheelchair. That week had felt like she was burning through all the favors Meg had owed her.

Making this request feels embarrassing in the same way that had. Worse, though, Anika is a near-stranger. She doesn't owe Sabine anything. Still, she has clearly been assigned to look to her wellbeing... which only makes it more embarrassing, actually.

Sabine forces a carefree smile onto her face to hide her discomfort.
This message was last edited by the player at 10:54, Tue 09 Feb 2021.

She didn't miss a beat. Maybe she was expecting this. "Of course." She held out a long sturdy arm and took your hand, pulling you forward smoothly and guiding you to stand just in front of the apparatus resting behind you. "Hold still..." She lifted the device from the container, pressed a button it, seemingly putting it into a standby state before she continued by sliding the metallic girdle in place just above your hips. Then she knelt and pulled the leg struts in-line with your own legs, fastening them with clasps just above your knees and at your ankles, lifting each foot up slightly to allow the 'stirrups' into place below your boots. Finally she reached up and touched a control panel just to the right of your hip and stood up to her full height again. She was inside your personal bubble the entire time, moving as naturally as if she was casually tidying up a room.

The device lit up and you could feel it taking the weight of your body, supporting your spine and torso on rigid metal rather than you own legs. You didn't even really need your cane anymore at all.

"Go ahead, take a step forward, naturally as you like. It will follow you."



OOC: This is to give you a better idea of what I'm trying to describe. Imagine this, but a lot nicer looking and slimmer.
This message was last edited by the player at 07:28, Tue 09 Feb 2021.

Sabine feels her face warming slightly as this woman - this extremely attractive woman, as she now notes - moves in close to her and busies herself about the task of adjusting the exoskelton to Sabine's body. Somehow being an invalid has grown one step more humiliating now that she's it's hit home that the person helping her - the person pitying her, she's certain - really is quite beautiful.

"Thank you," she mumbles as the last clasp fastens. Anika presses the button on the control panel, and she feels the machine's power cell hum to life against the small of her back.

Gingerly, she takes a tiny step. The exoskeleton, vibrating so softly that it's only noticeable by a faint tingle against her skin, moves with her. It's remarkable how sensitive it is to her movements; the rigid, metallic frame seems to weigh nothing at all. In fact, the total lack of resistance takes her so off guard that she nearly stumbles. Another few steps and she starts to get the hang of it, though she's still unsteady and tentative on her feet as she wobbles her way back across the room towards Anika by the door.

"Again, thank you," she says, offering the other woman a friendly smile. "Dare I ask whether this means I'll be allowed to leave this room?"

The Indari Officer watches you with a smile on her face as you take an assisted step forward and then another. She nods, seeing the result of her careful planning and the engineering redesigns pay off.

"There you go. I think you've got it now." She beams a bit, proud of what she'd managed to make happen. "You might actually be able to run in that. I'd work up to it, but it should be capable of handling it."

"Of course. I'm here to tell you that the investigation has been completed and that your role as an observer and exchange officer in our diplomatic efforts has been resumed. I'm sorry about all of that business... is there anything you need to ask me before we continue? I have time."

OOC: You have an effective carry strength of 12 while using the Caudal Harness. In the event that you need to kick someone in self-defense, you will use Strength 12 for your melee attack. All speed penalties have been eliminated while using the Caudal Harness.

Sabine smiles sardonically. "Yes. I have many questions - more than I can easily ask here. Off the top of my head, I still don't know how to read Hegemony rank sigils. None of those questions are overly pressing, though, and I'm sure I'll have many opportunities to ask them. For now, I would simply like to get out of this cell and get some practice with this rig. I'm ready to continue if you are."

She takes an awkward, assisted step before the door, then falters. "Oh. Did first officer Donnely try to contact me? I asked him for a... I knew some people aboard... um..." She trails off, her eyes locked on her fidgeting hands.

OOC: If Anika leads the way out into the hallway, I will follow. I'm happy to have this conversation happen on the way to somewhere else.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:54, Tue 16 Feb 2021.

The tall woman smiles and steps back out of your temporary quarters into the passageway outside. It's quite, the sounds of others are distant enough to be inaudible to your ears. You're used to noisier ships, deep rumbling drives, the whirring and clanking of mechanical servos and fly-wheels. The constant chimes and beeping of systems indicating some sort of system state requiring attention by technicians. Aside from a subtle deep hum, it feels like you could be on a base planetside.

She nods at your first question. "Well, that's an easy one. We can start here." She points at the golden crossed-swords and rocket torch symbol on her own uniform. "This is the torch and toothpicks." Anika chuckles. "It's the symbol of a Master, roughly equivalent to a Lieutenant by your system. It's just Master for most of the officers of my rank, unless we have a command, in which case it's proper to call them Shipmaster. You'll know they have a command when you see the Command Bar on their shoulders and cap. Don't have any. Yet." The golden-haired woman smirks and points comically to the empty fabric where they would have been.

Before you realize it, engaged in conversation you're walking down the corridors of an Hegemony Starship freely. You pass a pair of crew in what you suspect are technician overalls, poking some sort of cables into a wall panel and talking quietly to themselves about nanocircuits and virtual pumps. Whatever those things are.

"Donnely..." Her brow creases for a moment and straightens up slightly with a renewed smile. "Unfortunately, communication is still limited in system. The situation is tense as we're trying to resolve the unfortunate event. The INS-Maxim has entered the system and has taken control of the diplomatic campaign. Turpal's Star is acting in a support role while we affect repairs." She pauses as if thinking. "I'll try to get you cleared to contact him. In the mean time, casualty reports are still preliminary, but we think it was minimal. Less than a dozen of their security crew were casualties in the initial assault and the rest of the ship surrendered quickly without further incident, save for the Admiral..."

Sabine still looks troubled, but she makes no further comment on the subject of Donnely or the battle, at least for the time being. She focuses on putting one foot in front of the other, adjusting to the odd feeling of walking while not feeling the burden of her own weight on her knees or cane. She has brought said cane along for the sake of comfort and familiarity, but she currently has it tucked up under her arm as though she were in a parade formation. While she had been dubious about Anika's initial claim that she wouldn't need it at all while wearing the exoskeleton, this assertion seems to be true. Even so, she's breathing hard - not from physical exertion so much as the mental focus required to adjust so suddenly to such a novel form of locomotion.

"Noted. Thank you, master Quarn- um... Anika. You've been very helpful so far, and I appreciate all that you've told me. Now, as pleased as I am to get out of that room, where are we going?"

"We're heading to the landing bay to pick up your sundries. Now that things have been more or less cleared up, we've transported your personal effects to Turpal's Star." She huffs slightly as if the whole affair was just some sort of annoyance.

"While we're on our way," She pushes past a pair of crew talking in a corridor. They both stop and look at you for a moment before resuming their conversation in another language you're not familiar with. "I want to introduce you to our ship, the Turpal's Star. She's a member of the Prometheus-class cruiser family, following Hegemony doctrine, she's a warship first and a diplomatic vessel second. As you've already witnessed..." Small bits of disrepair or damage are evident here and there on the ship, lights that haven't been replaced, wall panels that seem jury rigged and at first you don't see it, but when you do it becomes obvious. Small portions of the deck where the miraculous artificial gravity isn't quite right. At one point you almost fall and Anika catches you, stopping you from an embarrassing spill onto the deck... and no one else is there to see it happen.

"Th-thanks," Sabine says, straightening up and hoping to the gods that her blush doesn't show. She smoothes down the front of her uniform jacket, clears her throat, and continues her still-somewhat-awkward assisted progress towards the landing bay.

"Yes, the demonstration was most impressive. Particularly the evasion and, uh, resilience the vessel demonstrated." She illustrates her point by gesturing at a bulkhead they are passing. It clearly doesn't match any of the other wall panelling in the coridor, and its failure to lie flush with the wall, coupled with the scorch marks and warping visible around its edges, suggests it to be a temporary seal placed there in a hurry to prevent depressurization. Several technicians are busy laying temporary lengths of wire and fiberoptics on the floor to replace the lines which were severed when the original bulkhead was melted away.

"The Hrafnhelmr astralle built its doctrine on the assumption that the Gáe Derg weapons system would absolutely gut any target it was used against. Clearly this is one of many assumptions we - uh, they will have to reconsider going forward."

She stumbles over the pronoun. It feels odd to identify herself as Hrafnhelmr military personnel while aboard a ship that was recently trading fire with said military - although she's also intensely aware that, at least until the paperwork is sorted, she can't properly claim to be part of the Hegemony heirarchy either. This leaves her somewhat in the lurch mentally.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:00, Mon 26 Apr 2021.

"Of course. You're still getting used to modern ships." She smiled warmly, either noticing nothing or pretending to very well.

"Depending on how Integration goes, those weapon systems will soon be outdated for you as well. If you become full members, factories will be set up in your system to produce modern weapons, ships, energy plants, etc." She muses, a little lost in thought at the possibilities of another member of the Star Court. "Ah, here we are."

The corridor opens to a door which slides open for you, revealing a vast hanger bay with a pair of shuttlecraft, one of them the sleek design that carried you up and another more angular dart-shaped craft. Several dozen crew are busy here and there, working on something or another and to your astonishment, you can see out into space. A massive view hole into outer space is right there across the bay, looking down almost half into the darkness and stars and half the surface of your world. No one else seems to notice or care what is wonderous to you. Except for Anika, who stays a step behind and watches you with a small smile as you take it in.

"Incredible, isn't it?" She pauses for a moment "It's not glass or transparent steel. It's an energy field, mostly a trick of graviton manipulation to stabilize the internal pressure. Ships can fly right through it without a problem. In a battle, an armored door would close to protect it. This is a newer invention, actually. Just a taste of what our scientists have come up with recently."

Almost as an afterthought, you could see your baggage sitting in a small section on the deck about 10 meters away, minded by a bored looking male with some sort of data tablet.

Sabine is so preoccupied with gazing out into the void that she very nearly trips over her suitcase.

Since she became certified for space flight, Sabine has been on two tours of duty, totalling a little under half a Hrafnhelmr season in space. In that time, she's never been on an EVA, and so she has only ever seen space through quadruple-reinforced glass viewports - usually less than a foot across and embedded so deeply into the hull of a ship that it was like looking at the stars through a keyhole. Even the cockpit windows on a Hussar-class skiff are kept to the minimum possible size and maximum possible thickness, in the interest of minimizing weak points on what is, ostensibly, a warship's hull.

The hologram on the shuttle walls was fascinating in its own way, but there was still some implacable element of artificiality to it. After the initial shock, once she had realized her feet were still on the ground, she had still been able to make out the wall itself. For brief moments, she had been able to use that knowledge to recondition her depth perception, seeing the room for what it was - an enclosed chamber walled with extremely high-resolution holographic screens, each somehow projecting two separate images to her eyes to produce the illusion of depth.

That was incredible in its own way. Technologically, it fascinated her, and she doubts she will ever fully understand how it was done. That was interesting. This... this is sublime. She can feel her every breath, shuddering and catching with the beauty of this sight. Repeatedly, the view blurs with tears, and she has to blink them away. There's an allure to the view, almost a gravitational tug, like the feeling of standing on the edge of a cliff and imagining stepping forward into empty air. Here, though, there wouldn't even be air to catch her.

Even as she stands there, awe-struck, a part of her stands at a distance, trying to analyze. It tries to think of a way to explain what she's feeling, what the sight is doing to her, but on some level, it knows that she'll never be able to. Not to these people, working so casually next to this doorway to unfathomable emptiness.

She stands there for several moments, just watching enraptured as her homeworld slips by against the inky blackness beyond, rotating in her vision with Turpal's Star's orbit. Only when the clerk clears his throat for the second time does it manage to shake her from her reverie. She tears her eyes away from the mouth of the hangar, her voice catching in her chest as she tries to speak.

"Oh! Ahem. Uh, yes. Yes, Lieutenant Sabine NicDhirhom, Hrafnhelmr Astralle Service. You might have another surname for me there, but it's a bit of a cultural faux pas to use it off-world." She has the feeling she'll have to explain this detail quite often going forward.

As you stumble, staring out into the void in a way more pure than even looking up at the night sky on a moonless night, you feel a large slender hand settle on your shoulder, reassuringly as Anika seems to intuit what you are feeling.

A small whispered voice comes through. "Look at the ground. You are standing on solid ground. Slowly bring your eyes up. You are looking at the horizon." She is so quiet, no one else could hear her words in this noisy landing bay.

The attendant looks up, startled to see you nearly trip, as if he's about to lean out and catch you. He's young, very young. His face is still pimply a bit and he seems unsure of himself. "Ah, ma'am.. hm... Astralle Service... right, right. Uh..." He looks around and shoves a couple of familiar bags towards you and presents you with a holographic tablet of some kind which after a moment appears to be a signature prompt. "Just sign here and they're yours." His voice cracks a little. He's clearly an adolescent, still.

Trying to keep her eyes focused inside the landing bay for the moment, Sabine signs as best she can. After a couple of mildly embarrassing false starts, trying to work the unfamiliar technology, she finally manages to produce a legible signature, at which point she hands the pad back to its owner. She waits a moment as the young man looks it over, and then accepts her luggage from him with a smile and a bob of her head. As she takes the weight fully in her hands, she braces herself for the complaints of her lower spine, but they never come. The supportive harnesses of the exoskeleton are doing their job.

"Thank you..." she falters for a fraction of a second, her brain working very fast as she tried to find a way to complete the sentence. She doesn't know the youth's proper mode of address. In her own accustomed military structure, he would likely be an ensign, but ensigns rarely take tours of service aboard Hrafnhelmr spacefaring vessels. Not wanting to take a chance, and certainly not wanting to address him as 'kid,' she decides to finish in a different way. "...very much," she says, brushing past her slight verbal stumble with a genuine smile of gratitude.

She turns to her guide and walks with her a few steps away from the young man. "I really need to learn how to read Hegemony rank insignias," she mutters as soon as they're out of his earshot.

After another couple of moments, she adds "Thank you. For the, uh, space thing this time. That openness - views like that - it's going to take some getting used to. Heck, the screen in my room gave me vertigo sometimes. I'm glad you're around. If you don't mind me asking... do you have experience with this? Getting used to all of the..." She gestures around at the cavernous landing bay and, more generally, to the ship as a whole. "You seem like you're anticipating most of the big shocks, and working to mitigate them. Did you experience the same thing at some point? Or are you just really good at your job?"

The young man is already on to something else. An alert pops up on his interface and after clearing things with you his off to scanning some other cargo you don't recognize.

"I already sent you a primer to your dataslab." She stops for a moment. "Um, you did bring that from your quarters, right?" She looks at you seriously for a moment before her smile cracks and she hands you a similar device. "I'm sorry... this is keyed to your biosignature. It'll act as a sort of passport, ident device, and more. It has a long library of information stored locally and access to public system databases."

"Don't worry. You'll see stranger sights than that with us." Your question hardens her features a bit and she steps back. "Yes. I do. Let's not go further than that right now." Her tongue slips against her lip briefly but loud enough. "Now that you have your things, we need to decide on your assignment. Tell me... what are you looking for? Why did you sign up for this program?"

Sabine is silent for the better part of thirty seconds, considering. By the time she speaks, she and Anika have reached the door of the landing bay again, and are returning to the labyrinthine lattice of tunnels and corridors. She knows how she would answer this question to a Hrafnhelmr officer, but here? Here she's not so certain.

"I... suppose a large part of it was for curiosity's sake," she admits. "No Hrafnhelm-born human has left the system since the Scream, and if we are advancing down the path to becoming an interstellar society again, I want to be on the forefront of that advance. But I imagine that doesn't tell you much that's useful for deciding my assignment. My people's horizons are expanding, and I'm eager to go off into the unknown. But that's not overly helpful, is it? It doesn't tell you much about what kind of assignment I'd be fit for."

"My experience so far has been as a pilot. I'm not sure how well my skills will transfer over to these, um, gravity-powered craft. I'm interested in them, of course. Who wouldn't be?" She shrugs, eyes fixed on the ground ahead. She's already becoming much more stable in her assisted walk, and her gait is getting faster and smoother, more in keeping with her customary stride.  "As cliche as this might sound, though, mostly I signed up for the program and busted my ass to get in because I just... want to see the galaxy. Meet new people. Find out what their problems are, and find ways to solve them if I can. Indari technology is clearly leagues ahead of anything I had guessed at, and I don't think I'll ever have a meaningful understanding of it - certainly not enough to have a technical or mechanical job in your navy. For obvious reasons, I also won't be great at any assignment that's too physically strenuous. But diplomacy? Communications? Maybe archive-keeping and organization? That's all stuff I can do."
This message was last edited by the player at 03:59, Thu 13 May 2021.

She considers your answer and nods, as much to herself as to you. All things considered, she's being surprisingly open with you. Or perhaps that's what she wants you to think, a small paranoid voice pipes up for a moment.

"Curiosity is one of the greatest parts of Humanity. It's the reason for everything beautiful, for everything we love, it's the reason we charted the stars and then set out to explore them." There was a look in her eye, as if she was reciting the words of another, or thinking about something important to her.

"Are you interested in learning to fly our ships? I can't promise to put you behind the helm of a cruiser, but we could get you started on something smaller..." Her expression changed to a smirk as you walked back through the corridors. You realize that Anika is carrying your things almost effortlessly. She doesn't look like she should be that strong. "You know, there's a very decent chance that within a generation, or even less, Hrafnhelmers will be piloting Hegemony warships in service of the Astral Fleet. It wasn't all that long ago that the Gareshi were a bunch of primitive ice barbarians, fighting over iron and honor... now they make up some of the best assault divisions the Hegemony has."

She referred to a contacted planet that was brought into the fold some century ago, known for their hardiness, ruthlessness and martial prowess, they were considered some of the elite shocktroops for the Hegemony. Had first contact proceedings had been less peaceful... it's possible those very troops would have been unleashed on Hrafnhelm to pacify the planet.

"When we get to the communications room, I have two possible assignments waiting for you. Look them over, decide which one you want and then we'll open up communication with your new ship about your assignment."