You contact Eureka.
"Engineering Chief Eccite Muli here. Whom am I speaking with?"
"Arnold, bartender."
"Ah, the new guy. You've sent the maintenance request, hm. Yeah. I can see it would warrant priority tag from Zanzibar..."
"I have prepared a full log of damage that requires repair."
"Wait, you mean there's more broken shit on your outpost than just what the request is telling me?"
"Unfortunately, yes." There's a slight pause before the lady on the other side slowly inhales.
"...did you attempt any repairs by yourself?"
"Yes."
You hear a loud 'thud' on the other side of the hail.
"Okay, fine, alright, let's, let's do it. Send the logs so I can look at them. Eureka over."
You tap away on the console to send the logs.
1236USY.3d/1m.0113h
Eureka confirms receiving the logs.
You receive a hail few seconds later.
"Oh for fuck's sake, man! I have six people and four hours before I gotta make way for the outpost at Gamma Urquanii. This ain't, well, fuck, okay, maybe we can do it in four hours, but, man, why... buh! Eureka over."
What a pleasant woman.
You make your way to the bar.
1236USY.3d/1m.0121h
The security console notifies you that Eureka has docked with the outpost.
Soon enough, its crew enters the main hall through the gate; three men and one woman in jumpsuits, two men in spacesuits with their helmets off, and a tired looking lady in engineer's garb with a coat on her arms. She has short, white hair, green eyes and lips seemingly twisted in permament scowl.
She and her crew look over the main hall, which makes the white-haired woman put her hands on her waist in consternation.
"Right, Robert and Chim, you just start on the airlocks and docking clamps, then go for micrometeorite damage if you've got time. Tim and Lesbie, I want you two on the neons and I will join you after a talk with our bartender friend here. Kira and Arek, you two check the internals on the tenth pump, try to find out what's wrong, call me if its power couplings." The group responds with 'yes, chief!' and scatters; all, except the two engineers who begin accessing the neons control panels on the side, leave through the main gate.
The white-haired woman makes her way to the bar and takes a seat, staring at you with a curious mix of defeat and contempt in her eyes.
"Nice to meet you, Arnold. Eccite Muli." She extends her hand towards you, and you shake it in archaic greeting.
"Alright, so, first of all - first try to fix stuff on your own, then send a maintenance request, okay? Because, the SRC AI controls the schedules, not us, based on the maintenance requests sent over. Like, fuck, they should've told you when you got yourself employed. Whatever. So the clamps and door control, two hours at least for my boys, if the fuel pump was shot through then no way we can get it fixed today, but maybe its just hull damage, we will see, and the neons shouldn't take long unless the main power unit was fried... and if the side corridors are on auxiliary power, then that's quite possibly what it is, fuck... no idea about the tenth pump, it has given S'tivan issues too, uh, I hate deep space outposts, I really do, but what can you do, right? I can only hope four-four-six will actually not have any surprises for us today..."A) Offer her a drink!
B) "I can assist your team if you're strapped for time."
C) Just nod along and let her talk.
D) Inquire about technical knowledge and acquisition of tools so that you can do proper repairs yourself.
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Topic: Bartender of Galactic Refueling Outpost 254831: Arnold! (Read 117007 times)