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[WyrdByrd]

Anton finishes his drink, and for the first time in several days,  takes stock of his situation.
Encyclopedia What were the best of times with Margaret?
Because this certainly wasn’t it. Bad enough that he had to take a flying coffin. Bad enough that the recycled air made his interface act up.  Bad enough, it seemed, that someone was using said coffin as a site for machinations.

Encyclopedia Raoldolf? Who owns the Marshals on Raodolf?

As he looks around the room, his eyes settle on the ghost sitting by the window corner. 
Well, he is here to mourn and bury, after all. Might as well start with his past in politics.

With the now familiar clanks and whirrs, Anton rights himself from the bar (Encyclopedia Do they still sell Quixote?), and makes his way over towards Lucas.
Encyclopedia : In the end, what have I done?

[Vivalas]

Prologue, Turn 2

NOTE: After some deliberation I have decided to implement skill packages. My reasoning for going against the rulebook and leaving them out stemmed from a misunderstanding of how they worked. I had thought that they applied all of their skills to all travelers, which seemed somewhat overpowered; instead it seems each traveler picks from one in succession. Essentially what this means is every player will get one more skill at level 1 at the start of next turn. The skill package system is intended to round out parties that may otherwise lack useful skills in areas.

I will assign them roughly as makes sense by background, and one person will get an extra skill, probably Judas because of their lesser skillset.

He confidently holds his hand in the game, "So you got the cards or not?  There's no shame in backing down."

Ace smiles at Corbin. He looks around the lounge and catches sight of a waiter with a plateful of drinks heading to serve a table near them. "Back down? You know I d-" Suddenly, as the waiter walks by, Ace tries to sneakily trip him causing a distraction so he can catch a glimpse of Corbin's cards.

"So you got the cards or not? There's no shame in backing down."

Ace smiles. He glances around the room, looking for opportunity; always the opportunist. While there aren't necessarily waiters (this definitely isn't that kind of ship), the Captain does keep a servant droid around, something he won quite a while back in a game not unlike the one currently played. Keeps the passengers happy, lets him charge more-- that sort of thing.

The droid happens to be on its way to Ace's table, a small shot of Dragon's Breath destined for their current table (among other assorted spirits and, oh, what's this, a glass of orange juice?). "Back down? You know I d--" Ace interrupts himself as he sticks his leg out in front of the droid, its rather old-fashioned rollers prone to these sorts of messy occurrences.

Opposed Check: Deception 8+ Corbin - INT (for detection), Judas - DEX (for effectiveness)

Judas Deception/DEX: 2d6 + 0 + 3 -> 11 +3 = 14

Corbin Deception/INT: 2d6+ 2 + 2 -> 5 + 4 = 9

Judas Success! - Effect 6 vs Effect 1

CRASH! The serving droid topples over and spills all over Corbin, causing a large commotion. He is somewhat perceptive to the trick, but isn't able to react in time. Ace manages to catch a small glimpse of his opponent's cards, before both hands are stowed away and the two men cordially begin cleaning up the mess, with Judas apologizing both profusely and dishonestly.

While waiting for the performers to begin, Lucas idly looks at the enigmatic passenger, trying to see if his outfit provides any hints.

(One quibble, though: "CPT Lucas Brennan, 81st Regiment" Lucas was formerly assigned to 81st Battalion, 15th Regiment, not 81st Regiment.)

(I'll fix that.)

Lucas glances at the mystery man, but there isn't anything quite.... unique about his outfit. In fact, it appears almost as if his outfit exists solely to be as unassuming as possible. A black trenchcoat, emotionless sunglasses, and brown trousers with a cream shirt that is slightly visible from under the coat.

John uses the music of the concert as some kind of nice background music for his thoughts. His thoughts were mostly just about the event that leads up to this moment, and of other things like...

Encylopedia: How much USD is 1 credit?
Encylopedia: How strong is the hold of religion on the imperium as a whole and the daily lives of a random citizen?
Encylopedia: How many emperors had the imperium have since the start of the Exo period? How often does a citizen see the emperor's face?
Encylopedia: How advance is an average computer that a middle-class person can afford compared to modern times of this Earth?

Encyclopedia: I do say you're quite the inquisitive chap. Anywho, let us begin, hm?

Imperial credits are roughly equal to the yankee dollar because, well, your GM doesn't see the need to complicate that. Hmm, ah, what else? Oh-- religion. Straight to the meat, eh? Well I do say we ought to have some tea if we are to have such a long discussion but I'll keep things short for you lad. Religion in the Imperium is very much a non-issue, for the most part. Early on in the Imperium's early history it was realized that to effectively control most of the civilized world, forcing a dogmatic central religion and culture on the Empire's inhabitants wasn't going to fare very well. Instead, the early Empire focused on a doctrine of cultural acceptance and used other means to build national unity: the power and majesty of the state and Emperor, nationalism, a shared hatred of disorder and criminality: all that lovely stuff.

The religious makeup of the Imperium is rather typical to our modern world, although some different sects have emerged. There's Eastern Mikkusu, a rather bastardized blend of various Eastern philosophies and religions: quite the oriental blend of theology and spices, and they even had the heart to put a chap in charge of it all! Quite fascinating. There's a few others, such as Q'Wahdat Alssahil, a quite peeving mix of Sihkism, Islam, and Judaism. And finally, of course, the most troubling observance to the curious modern observer of our universe would  be the fact that Jainism is the second-largest religion in Charted Space, due in part to the early Jain expansion back in 1100 AD at the formation of the Empire. Indeed, despite the Imperium's current Laissez-faire take on religion, the Inquisition has its roots in the early attempts within the Empire to suppress Jains in a mostly-catholic Europe. On the subject of the Inquisition: the religions within the Imperium are largely left to their devices, with a few inquisitors assigned to the various religions leaders to keep things "positive".

As far as Emperors, well, there has been only two Emperors since the Reconception Wars and one who has reigned since before the Exo period until the current date. The Loyalist faction won the war, narrowly, and installed Elgraib V on the throne, the son of the previous Emperor and his designated heir. Of course, for reasons we won't get in to at the moment, Elgraib V was quite a disagreeable chap, and he was forced to abdicate by his house and the current Emperor since then has been his niece, Empress Naimh O’Beirne, the 34th monarch of the O’Beirne dynasty and rightful ruler of the entire Imperial Estate, bless her soul.

And at long last, lad, since it seems you need a bloody answer for just about everything, computers in the current period are quite powerful. Much more powerful than today's computers. As a rough translation, handhelds have about as much power as the typical supercomputer mainframe of our 21st century. Indeed: technological progress since the Trans-Newtownian revolution has been quite the spectacle. Now if I were you, I would go find that little darling of yours. It would appear, quite unfortunately, that she has slipped off.

John is stirred out of his internal monologue to notice that Maria has indeed left his side. It appears she is now harassing the performers, much to their chagrin, who are currently giving him a pointed and troubling look.

Salia continued to dig around in the innards of the ship looking for the busted manifold to fix, while also ignoring James' terrible singing.

Salia does her best to tune out James' terrible singing and focuses her attention at the task at hand. Manifolds... manifolds. So many pipes, so much grease, so little time. She can barely wait for the ship's arrival at Cryostail, and it's fair to say shore leave is the only thing on her mind at the moment.
Mechanics 8+:
Salia Mechanics/DEX: 2d6 + 0 + 1  ->  6 + 2 + 1 = 9

Success! Effect 1

A few minutes of digging around in the innards of the starboard plasma recirculation loop and she found her quarry: the busted manifold. A small crack was in the hub of the thick pipe junction, but she also found something much more troubling. Luckily she was able to avoid being cut by it, but currently a low (in ship terms, anyways) pressure hydraulics line was blowing a stream of hydraulic fluid across the underside of the catwalk: coating everything in thick translucent slime.

Salia climbs back out from under the catwalk, covered slightly in grease but none the worse for wear. Quite peeved, however, since that very specific line was supposed to be locked out. By James no less. She immediately begins planning a rant for him when she realizes that the singing has stopped: mercifully, perhaps, but also quite curiously. A cursory search reveals that James is gone.

Anton finishes his drink, and for the first time in several days,  takes stock of his situation.
Encyclopedia What were the best of times with Margaret?
Because this certainly wasn’t it. Bad enough that he had to take a flying coffin. Bad enough that the recycled air made his interface act up.  Bad enough, it seemed, that someone was using said coffin as a site for machinations.

Encyclopedia Raoldolf? Who owns the Marshals on Raodolf?

As he looks around the room, his eyes settle on the ghost sitting by the window corner. 
Well, he is here to mourn and bury, after all. Might as well start with his past in politics.

With the now familiar clanks and whirrs, Anton rights himself from the bar (Encyclopedia Do they still sell Quixote?), and makes his way over towards Lucas.
Encyclopedia : In the end, what have I done?

Encyclopedia: What were the best of times with Margaret?

Hah, they certainly didn't involve day drinking. Well lad, this isn't quite my strong suit but I do believe there was a particular vacation to Mercury that the two of you found to be a right proper time; a quiet excursion to a tiny oasis in a cave in the large polar Dorsa Hellenes range. You may recall the night: it was quite blissful, some light jazz, candles, and you even brought some S'Mores ingredients for her. Ah, yes, the lovely tides of youth. Although, if I do say so myself, it's probably not best to dwell on such thoughts.

...

Encyclopedia Raoldolf? Who owns the Marshals on Raodolf?

Ah, yes: Raodolf. A quaint ocean core world in the Spinward Core Spur-- a large chain of planets extending some 10 or 20 so parsecs Spinward from Sol. It's primary export, curiously, is deuterium from its notably heavy-water rich seas. Quite the important colony, that Raodolf, I must say.

Aside from that, well, I don't think you really know the answer to that off the top of your head: and I'm no medium, lad. What we do know of course, you and I, is that Colonial Marshals aren't controlled by provincial governors but rather the central Imperial government. They owe no particular loyalty to any one noble, although as you are quite familiar I am sure, individual feuds, favors, arrangements, alliances, and plots between Houses often guide the central arm of the Imperial bureaucracy: so in practice the chaps could be acting under the influence of any of the powerful houses. Legally, anyways, the marshals report to the Colonial Marshal station at Raodolf and its Chief Marshal, who in turn reports to the sector ColSec directorate.

...

Encyclopedia: Do they still sell Quixote?

Ah, sadly they do not. I am not quite sure that that chap Quixote ever came to be in this universe, anyhow. Perhaps you are thinking of the mythos of Deux Quincy, who was widely held in regard for his chivalrous and unending advances towards women and inanimate objects. Anyhow, Deux Double is often carried on most vessels in Charted Space, a favorite rum of spacers.

...

Encyclopedia : In the end, what have I done?

Alas, I mean no ill will to you sir, but perhaps a therapist would be more inclined to help you with such philosophical musings. You surely are wealthy enough to afford such a service, are you not? At the most basic level, there is no way you could have prevented such a unfortunate ischemic event, but again, I'm a metacognitive scholar, not a metacognitive counselor.

Anton muses various things as he walks over to Lucas, his gait rather wobbly from his inebriation. That face-- it's quite familiar. And he thought one of the names he mused over on the manifest seemed curious.

The people in the room continue to mull about, although the performers seem to be preoccupied with a certain child at the moment. The disturbance caused by Judas mostly is forgotten now as the small party of passengers and off-duty crew mull about, drinking and talking. Captain Remmy enters the room and looks at the mess created by the two gamblers with dismay, shaking his head before going over to chat with the travelling bards. He bends over and plays with Maria a bit, before shooing her away, glancing at John disdainfully.

----
Previous Turn
Next Turn

[ConscriptFive]

Corbin is livid on the inside.  Headed to a make or break deal, and now he's gonna reek of third-rate jungle juice.  (That might be a great disguise as some low society gutterpunk, but he's trying to pass as a successful professional).

Well, the droid's stumble was a bit too coincidental, wasn't it?  He counts his chips and the pot, but finds nothing amiss.  He tosses his hand aside on the table and folds.

"Been fun kid, but I gotta get cleaned up now.  Try not to spend it all in one place."

Corbin cashes out and slips away to his stateroom.  Better rinse out his clothes in the sink before they stain.

On his way out, he ponders his current situation:
Encyclopedia What do I know about the captain & crew of this vessel?  Do I know them well, and can I really trust them?  (That thing with the droid could be an inside job.)
Encyclopedia How close is my stateroom to the un/guarded VIP suite?  (When gun running, it's a good idea to keep track of law enforcement.  Especially when you've got a stolen milspec gun stashed in your stateroom luggage.)

[King Zultan]

"Bastard probably went to the bathroom without saying a damned thing."
No point in waiting for his ass to come back when shit needs to be done, its time to turn the line off and get back down there and fix both the manifold and that line.

[chaotick21]

Ace takes the chips and cashes out.

He decides to test his mixology skills by making a Devil's Fizzer, a complicated (and extremely alcoholic) cocktail from his homeplanet.

[The_Two_Eternities]

Lucas sighs, not overly concerned. Satisfaction of his curiosity is the only thing at stake here. Lucas...
Lucas hears footsteps approaching him, and turns his head.
A man is coming his way, his legs unsteady. He wears a business suit - a very expensive one, at that. He appears moderately drunk.
While Lucas has been looking at him, the man has come close enough for Lucas to tell that the man is approaching him in particular.
Lucas decides to give him the benefit of the doubt, and... er... what facial expression would be appropriate?
Lucas settles on an expression that is one-quarter surprised, one-quarter inviting, and one-half neutral, looking at the man as if to invite him to speak first.

[The Canadian kitten]

John takes the hand of Maria and leads her back to their while apologizing to the musicians, and the captain while quietly scolding Maria for disturbing these fine people.

Edit:Encyclopedia: What is a Dragon's Heart medal?

[WyrdByrd]

Anton furrows his brow, and settles his gaze on Lucas’  uniform. One of the newer cuts, but there was no mistaking an officer. If he’s chartering, that means he follows the old customs. Noble families (or those aspiring towards it), always liked to flex their power.

Encyclopedia: What sort of  military reforms happened after the civil war?

He sunk into the nearest empty seats, implants shifting about him. Most of these were designed for planetary use, and had the tendency to stick up in the recycled stellar atmosphere. Another stroke against flying, in his opinion.
Encyclopedia; Where could I get new cybernetics? I think the Ministry’s ‘lifetime moratorium’ should have expired by now.

Regardless, the past won’t bury itself.
“New command?”

[Vivalas]

Been a busy week again. I plan to post the update tonight or tomorrow, but probably tomorrow. I will try to keep the pace up a bit more: this week was an anomaly but I've also been a bit too finicky with the mood I want to be in while writing so I need to switch hats from "writer" to "gm" for now, at least until I have more free time.

[Vivalas]

Prologue, Turn 3

Skill Package Updates: (your character gains the listed skill; as part of a step I skipped in chargen)

Corbin Fresno: Stealth 1
Salia Zhen: Gun Combat 1
Elona Maghraib: Electronics (computers) 1
John Cardenas: Medic 1
Anton Ferguson: Persuade 1
Lucas Aphor Brennan: Gunner 1
Judas "Ace" Parker: Pilot (small craft) 1, Deception 1

Corbin is livid on the inside.  Headed to a make or break deal, and now he's gonna reek of third-rate jungle juice.  (That might be a great disguise as some low society gutterpunk, but he's trying to pass as a successful professional).

Well, the droid's stumble was a bit too coincidental, wasn't it?  He counts his chips and the pot, but finds nothing amiss.  He tosses his hand aside on the table and folds.

"Been fun kid, but I gotta get cleaned up now.  Try not to spend it all in one place."

Corbin cashes out and slips away to his stateroom.  Better rinse out his clothes in the sink before they stain.

On his way out, he ponders his current situation:
Encyclopedia What do I know about the captain & crew of this vessel?  Do I know them well, and can I really trust them?  (That thing with the droid could be an inside job.)
Encyclopedia How close is my stateroom to the un/guarded VIP suite?  (When gun running, it's a good idea to keep track of law enforcement.  Especially when you've got a stolen milspec gun stashed in your stateroom luggage.)

Corbin curses and folds from the poker game, leaving the current pot behind on the table. If there's one thing Corbin's good at, it's knowing when to walk away, and when to run. He takes his leave from the lounge and heads through the door on the fore bulkhead, entering the long hallway that runs along the center of Deck 1. He passes through the aft ladderwell, a utilitarian compartment full of hatches, pipes, and various exposed gauges and important-looking things covering the bulkheads.

-200 Credits

Encyclopedia: What do I know about the captain & crew of this vessel?  Do I know them well, and can I really trust them?

I must say this is quite the marvelous question. Stunning, really. Can you trust anyone? Can you trust yourself? But, no, I will spare you the theatrics and reach deep within the lobes of your frontal cortex for you, to inform you that, you do not know very much at all about the crew or captain of this vessel. You did some research of course beforehand, but nothing really came up. As far as scummy freelancer vessels go, this is quite possibly one of the most generic you have ever found-- hence why you booked passage aboard it almost immediately, lad.

Encyclopedia: How close is my stateroom to the un/guarded VIP suite?

There are 10 (passenger-designated, anyways) staterooms on the Leprechaun. Four are fore (hehe) of the fore ladderwell, and six are behind. Quite conveniently, actually, your stateroom turned out to be the furthest aft on the port side, while the VIP's is furthest fore on the starboard side.

Corbin completes his absent-minded walk to his stateroom while passing a few passengers and crewmembers headed to the lounge. He arrives there without incident, and removes his shirt. He turns on the sink and begins to fill it with water, intent on keeping his clothes in a comely manner.

"Bastard probably went to the bathroom without saying a damned thing."
No point in waiting for his ass to come back when shit needs to be done, its time to turn the line off and get back down there and fix both the manifold and that line.

Salia curses and climbs out from underneath the catwalk, rubbing grease and sweat off of her brow. She heads fore to the "cage", more formally known as "maneuvering", where the main instrumentation and control systems for the reactor and engines are located at. The room, like the rest of the engineering deck, spans two standard floors, with the upper catwalk area being dedicated to engineering watchstanding and the lower level being where most of the controls are situated. She swings a heavy hatch out of the way and ducks in to the room, feeling rather soothed by its dim light and the flicker and hum of the many analog gauges and LCD readouts located all over the room like some sort of arcane tapestry.

The upper level has a sort of "perch" where the officer of the watch can sit, keeping an eye on the lower watchstanders from his swivel chair while also perusing his own readouts and panels. Of course, in an ideal world on an ideal ship, the crewmember assigned to engineering watch would be awake, but alas Porch is on watch currently and seems to be quite contentedly dozing off. Salia shakes her head and walks over to the interlock panel, noting that HYX-7, Starboard Backup Hydraulics Feed, is currently (to her disdain) indicated as OPEN, denoted with a big red 'O'.

She curses again and jabs the toggle with her thumb, but to her surprise the cursed 'O' stays lit up on the board. "Fuck." she says. The bastard was probably too lazy to try to figure out why the interlock was stuck. She grabs the long discarded can of an energy drink from the deckplating and tosses it up, squarely hitting Porch in the side of the head. He awakes with a start. "The fuck was that for?" he asks, angrily.

"We got a stuck-open interlock for Hikes-7 and I think I cut through the fucking thing when I was removing some cladding earlier."

"Why the fuck would you do that?" Porch asks with a simple, yet pointed, glare.

"Because James fucking said he locked out all the interlocks in that area, that's why. Now be a useful lump of shite, at least, and call it in so I can fix the bloody thing." Salia retorts.

She can only immediately think of two reasons why the button would be stuck: control circuitry, or mechanical failure in the interlock itself. She ponders this for a moment while looking back up at Porch to make sure he isn't asleep again.

Ace takes the chips and cashes out.

He decides to test his mixology skills by making a Devil's Fizzer, a complicated (and extremely alcoholic) cocktail from his homeplanet.

+200 Credits

Ace smirks and watches, quite smug, as Corbin cashes out and heads back to his cabin. He gets up and stretches, looking about the room. Two passengers enter as he looks about. They seem to be the last out of the small but steady stream of bored travelers who have congregated in the lounge area. Ace watches them for a moment, before turning his attention back to counting his newly acquired credits.

Altogether the room now has about 20 people and the performers begin to play their melodies. A (righted) serving droid bubbles about, taking orders and delivering drinks as the music begins. "Seven Drunken Nights" begins to play, the first song choice of the two musicians, as the crowd whistles and cheers lightly.

He makes his way to the bar, after watching with interest, keen on joining in on the inebriated festivities. Ace peruses the alcohol selection and realizes that he is able to, perhaps, mix an old drink from Mars that he had learned about in a very shady tavern a few years back. This proposition is quite intriguing to Ace. He gets to work: getting down a bottle of Absinthe, some Rockdust Rum, and O'Brian's Reserve Brandy-- a hint of vodka too for good measure. Quite the unusual combination, but with a bit of love and the right proportions its quite the stunning cocktail.

Carouse 8+:
Ace Carouse/INT: 2d6 - 3 + 1: 6 -2 => 4

Failure!

Ace mixes the cocktail: using mostly only his old recollection and not much else. After a few minutes of some haphazard portioning and stirring, he takes a sip, nearly spitting out the result. Ace gags and swallows the mix, which burns more than it probably should as it goes down. Not quite the bartender he thinks he is, the drink probably won't be that useful for impressing others; although, it may have other uses.

Lucas sighs, not overly concerned. Satisfaction of his curiosity is the only thing at stake here. Lucas...
Lucas hears footsteps approaching him, and turns his head.
A man is coming his way, his legs unsteady. He wears a business suit - a very expensive one, at that. He appears moderately drunk.
While Lucas has been looking at him, the man has come close enough for Lucas to tell that the man is approaching him in particular.
Lucas decides to give him the benefit of the doubt, and... er... what facial expression would be appropriate?
Lucas settles on an expression that is one-quarter surprised, one-quarter inviting, and one-half neutral, looking at the man as if to invite him to speak first.

Ah, yes, ever the considerate one, Lucas debates intensely what expression to give to the approaching man. His father would be so proud.

John takes the hand of Maria and leads her back to their while apologizing to the musicians, and the captain while quietly scolding Maria for disturbing these fine people.

Edit:Encyclopedia: What is a Dragon's Heart medal?

John gasps and pulls Maria away from the performers as they begin to play their music, apologizing profusely for the awkward situation. He pulls her towards a table and tells her to sit down while he gazes absentmindedly about the room.

Encyclopedia: What is a Dragon's Heart medal?

Ah, lovely, you forgot what your own medals meant, did you? I kid, I kid. A Dragon's Heart medal is awarded to those members of the Imperial armed forces who are wounded or killed while serving in a combat environment in service to the Imperium. Not as common as it used to be, due to the largely one-sided nature of Imperial military operations, being the proud holder of one is still an impressive badge of honour.

Anton furrows his brow, and settles his gaze on Lucas’  uniform. One of the newer cuts, but there was no mistaking an officer. If he’s chartering, that means he follows the old customs. Noble families (or those aspiring towards it), always liked to flex their power.

Encyclopedia: What sort of  military reforms happened after the civil war?

He sunk into the nearest empty seats, implants shifting about him. Most of these were designed for planetary use, and had the tendency to stick up in the recycled stellar atmosphere. Another stroke against flying, in his opinion.
Encyclopedia; Where could I get new cybernetics? I think the Ministry’s ‘lifetime moratorium’ should have expired by now.

Regardless, the past won’t bury itself.
“New command?”

Anton, ever the entrepreneurial socialite, gazes over his newfound quarry. A remarkable familiarity sweeps over him, and he decides to head over. People are assets. he intones in his mind, the old teachings of his mentor.

Encyclopedia: What sort of  military reforms happened after the civil war?

You may be surprised, sir, if I told you that almost no reform happened after the civil war. While the Imperium has many things going for it, being dragged down by millennia of tradition is probably not one of those things. The Imperial Guard suffers notably more in this regard than the Imperial Navy, but attempted change to the structure, organization, or tactics of the Imperial armed forces is always met with near-open criticism by the officer corps. After all, if it's worked for 1000 years, why change things now? Someone ought to remind the chaps that the advent of the interstellar era probably changes a few things but I'll leave that sort of cursed thing to you, my dutiful servant.

Encyclopedia; Where could I get new cybernetics? I think the Ministry’s ‘lifetime moratorium’ should have expired by now.

Cybernetics are typically installed in specialized clinics, my boy, although I doubt such a clinic exists on this freighter.


The music continues as the passengers and crew begin to intermingle a little bit. Music and alcohol always have quite the effect on the primate brain, and now the chatter and carousing is louder than it was when the performance began. The mystery man remains alone by himself at a table, watching the performance quietly while sipping from his own flask. The song ends and the crowd claps and cheers. Almost as soon as the first song ended, the next dirge starts up and the two musicians seem encouraged by the positive vibes of the crowd. It is a happy occasion, and everyone seems to be enjoying themselves.

That is, until the lights go out. Startled murmurs travel around the room and the music stops. A datapad lights up in the corner, and the captain's face is just barely visible in the glare. "Alright, alright people. She's an old ship, just stay calm. I'm sure it's just a small hiccup," he assures the crowd, as his figure moves towards the bulkhead towards one of the ship phones. "Lemme just call down to engineering re--"

BANG. BANG. BANG BANG BANG.

Gunshots echo throughout the lounge, deafening in the small space. A few more ring out, but the room is so enclosed it's impossible to tell where they are or where the shots are coming from, and the muzzle flashes are mixed up with all the small individual lights that have begun to come on. Chaos erupts, and amongst the yelling and screaming it's near impossible to tell what is happening. All that anyone can really make out is that the first shots came from within the crowd, and a few came from the direction of the marshals and the VIP.

None of our beloved travelers are hurt, although perhaps some are peeved that someone had to crash the party so rudely.

----

Previous Turn
Next Turn

[The_Two_Eternities]

Lucas' expression unintentionally shifts to one-half surprised and one-half neutral. "Not quite. I'm to be stationed on-"

And then, for reasons that have already been mentioned, Lucas' expression shifts to completely surprised before his training kicks in.

Flip the table to provide a modicum of cover. Working off my knowledge of where the man last was, try to grab him and drag him behind the table.
"CIVILIAN, TAKE COVER!"

[King Zultan]

Salia would start by examining the control circuitry to see if the problem was there, then if that wasn't it she'd go and look at the interlock itself and see if that was it and fix it.

[ConscriptFive]

Ex-spook Corbin Fresno stands partially disrobed in his stateroom, soaking his collared shirt in the stateroom sink.  Luckily, whatever liquor that soaked through his outer-shirt wiped off the IMAT concealed vest he wears as a midlayer.  He pulls on a new shirt just as the lights go out.  Reflexively whirling around towards the stateroom door, he drops into a defensive crouch and his firing hands goes to his holstered sidearm.  (Of course he still can't see anything in the pitch dark, but at least he won't get taken out from behind.)

(OOC: Fun Fact - I debated putting a penlight in his everyday carry, but decided not to overdo it.  Whoops.)

The action at the lounge is a ways off from his distant stateroom, but to an experienced shooter, the sound of a gunfight is unmistakable.  Crouched in his darkened corner of the freighter, he draws his pistol.  "It's too sudden to be law enforcement..." he thinks to himself.  He knew plenty of cowboy naval officers in his day, but they'd at least hail the vessel, and then fire a warning shot before boarding and storming in.  Pirates sophisticated enough to raid the space lanes usually did the same.  Usually.

...unless it is an inside job after all.  He didn't know this crew from Adam, and over the past month, many of his fellow travelers didn't seem to be "upright citizens" either.  It wasn't his business to check ids on those Marshals, but that would be a great cover identity some certain clandestine operations.  "An insider hijacking?"

He reality checks himself, "Too soon to tell."  Maybe it's just a few drunken hotheads in a bar-fight?  Either way, he's relatively safe where he is, and has no compelling incentive to take a bullet for anyone on this rust bucket.  Creeping stealthily to the stateroom door, he double checks the lock and tries to look out the peephole.  Unless the ship intercom or alarm system says otherwise, "shelter in place" seems to be the best move.

Still, he can't help but ponder some more extreme courses of action...

Encyclopedia Where's the survival gear on this ship? Lifeboats, escape-pods, Vacc-suits, etc.  (If Corbin has to literally jump ship, he better know how.)

Encyclopedia The freigher's been underway for a long time now.  How far from civilization are we?  Is rescue/escape viable, or merely a slow death sentence "where no one can hear you scream?"

Encyclopedia What kind of arms and general security does the ships crew have?  (He may not have had a full career as a naval officer, but he's been on the bridge of far grander vessels.  Worst, comes to worst, he could flash his badge and "commandeer" the ship to safety.  Sure, rum-runners might not respect a badge, but everyone get more cooperative with a PX-11 pointed at them.)

[The Canadian kitten]

Clearly, this is a dangerous situation and Maria must be protected so, John pushes her to the ground and covers him with his body. If that John's body can even block bullets.

[chaotick21]

"Oh shit!" Ace quickly ducks behind a counter and pulls out his Martian Judge. He attempts to get closer the people firing the bullets by quietly crawling on the ground, so that he can aim a few clear shots of his own.