"I am Quirell Tawny. I agree we need some weaponry, assuming we think this person is on our side."

He moved aside for Yom as he went for the intercom. Listening to him speak it was obvious to Quirell that this man had no experience with emergencies. He'd need a close eye to be kept on him.

Quirell floats away to review his gear as Yom moves to the intercom, after completing his scan.  While Natakkoa completes her scan, the others either look about the room or stand by, waiting for some more information from the woman on the intercom.



"My name is Ilione, and I don't remember much either.  I'm not a technical person, I don't understand what I'm seeing or how, but it's as if I have all-around vision and I am outside of some sort of space station; I have a memory of this sort of thing being possible in virtual reality pods, but I can't seem to end the program and get out.  It doesn't look like a big station and it has very large antenna arrays," she says and her voice is sounding more anxious and desperate.  "I saw two man-shaped things, they look like zZZZzt but I'm not good at that sort of thing," she adds.  There is interference and feedback on the comm when she tries to identify the hostiles.

Rhawn can surmise based on her scant description that the station is a TBD relay station, likely in deep space somewhere.

Natakkoa at least* has a personal chronometer device and can calculate that it has been seven days since she headed for the mission briefing.

---

*Petra, Yom and Osgun also have one on their gear list and can calculate the same.
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:24, Sat 04 May.

Petra floated over to the each door in turn to check if it was unlocked, but did not open them yet.  She checked if they were sealed and if the temperature seemed especially warm or cold compared to their current surroundings.  Pressing her ear up against them, Petra wanted to see if she could hear anything interesting as well.

"We can't stay here forever." she prompted.  Having checked her watch, it seemed to indicate a significant passage of time; which she filed away as an interesting, but not immediately relevant, fact of note.  Still, three days was a lot of time.

The young pilot found the static fuzzing in their communications to be a nuisance, inconvenient, and extremely specific.  Which meant that it wasn't coincidental; but. then neither was the fact that they had strange electronic handler that was feeding them limited information.

With no apparent weapons, she cast about to see if anything could be improvised; not that she was any good with anything but a blaster, really.  Her inexperience poked through, "So, how are we supposed to deal with multiple hostiles on-board unarmed?"  It was still puzzling to her why only offensive, but not defensive, items had been confiscated, "Do you think that weapons are stored in central location like an armoury?"  If they were ship-board they may have had to check in their weaponry; and probably would have done so willingly.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:24, Sat 20 May 2023.

In reply to Game Master (msg # 29):

A low, frustrated growl escaped Nat's throat, and observers would notice her quietly, aggressively, shaking her scanner.

The newness of the situation, and her disorientation, interfered with her ability to dial the scanner in appropriately, and the readout is little more than garbage.

Breathe she reminded herself. Slow down. Don't try to answer all the questions at once.  Increments. Collect. Analyze.

"I've got nothing," she announced to the room at large. "But I've got an idea..." She moved toward the door opposite the intercom, filing the intercom "woman's" information away as she did so, only to find Petra inspecting it.

"Oh, hey, hi..." she began awkwardly, followed by a good 15 seconds of silence as she appeared to be studying her scanner.  HEY! Dumbass! Remember what you and your therapist worked on?  Conscious engagement?  Actively acknowledging common history?  And...limiting the negative self-talk?  Remember?

Nat's pause allowed Petra to complete her inspection, and Petra's inquiry about weapons spurred a thought... Nat shook off her reflection.  "Um...what about things that might or might not be weapons? A wistful huff of breath for her own missing items teased her bangs.  "Are those missing too?" She glanced at her as yet unexamined pack.  "I might have a set of wood-carving tools I might be able to press into service, if those haven't been taken as well...."

Keeping an ear open to replies, she re-calibrated the scanner for "Life Signs, 5m (Point Blank - type and #)", stepped up to the second door, and held the scanner against it, keeping still for as long as it took to get, she hoped, an intelligible read.

If something was going to be coming through that door, she wanted to know about it...


...and, after a quiet minute, her scanner output hadn't changed.  Good  - at least we're safe on that front.  She clipped the scanner back to her belt.  "Nothing living on the other side of this door, at least for about 5 meters," she offered to the room.  "Any luck with where we might be?"
This message was last edited by the player at 20:39, Sat 20 May 2023.

Petra can tell the doors are locked but there is no temperature variance between them and the room you are in.

"Thank you Ilione."
"We will try to help."
"Do you have any idea what weapons the two hostiles use? Or whether they use weapons at all? Are they heavily armoured?"
"Ilione, you said you can see them? Can you also see us? Maybe direct us where we need to go?"
Yom muted again.

"It could well be that weapons are stored in a specific location. How to find that one, though? Seems like the only option is to go ahead."

"I cannot see them now, I saw them before.  I cannot see you or inside the station," Ilione says.  "You are unarmed?  Is there a security office or armory perhaps?  I'm not an expert but would look there first," she adds sincerely, her tone is clearly one of someone trying to be genuinely helpful.  Indeed, those of you experienced in security matters can confirm that absent your own weapons there would probably be some in such locations.

Quirell drifted over to one of the desks and grabbed one of the legs. He examined one of the chairs, looking to see if the legs could be pulled off or removed to be used as clubs, not that it would be too effective without gravity. Still it would be better than nothing he supposed.

"Honestly, if we can't get the door open we will be here forever. We are probably in a security lockdown of some sort. Perhaps Ilione can access an override of some sort and maybe turn the damn gravity on. Maybe we can make some clubs from this chair."

"One step at a time."

Yom had not realized that the door was locked.
He quickly grabbed his scanner again and checked the door controls to hopefully get specifics on how he might overcome the electronic lock.

---

rolled 111 using 1d100+39 with the Role/Spacemaster system (fumble range of 1 to 5) with rolls of 72.  Scanner Analysis Repair Scanner
no, not a wrong copy paste, it is actually a new roll :D
rolled 77 using 1d100+39 with the Role/Spacemaster system (fumble range of 1 to 5) with rolls of 38.  Scanner Analysis Repair Scanner.(second door)
This message was last edited by the player at 15:21, Tue 23 May 2023.

Yom goes to work on the lock and he almost has it.  A couple of seconds thinking and another try (+5) should do the trick.

While he is working on opening the door, what are the rest of you doing?

( Nat's check took at least a minute, Petra had been examining the doors for temperature and locking, and Quirell had moved from the door to check his bag and then was looking to see if he could improvise a weapon from elements in the room, like the chair.

This all felt functionally simultaneous to me, and seems to correspond with the time-frame Yom needed to ask questions and work his Repair Scanner.

I THINK we're mostly just waiting a beat to see if any of the characters respond/reply/interact with any of the other characters before moving on to our next action.

At least...that's what I was hoping for/doing.... )

Yom turned away from the door and addressed his companions.
"Ladies and Gentlemen."
"I think I might be able to unlock the door."

"Is this what we want at this point or would we rather first discuss what we plan to do with what we know so far?"

"None of us have any recollection of what has happened the last three days. I presume that each of you had a scheduled meeting, so we may have a common employer at least."

"We have an unknown woman named Ilione asking us to help her. All we know is that we are in space, on a station. A station that has been seemingly attacked by two hostile humanoids."

"I actually believe her, for whatever it's worth. And I would prefer to help the lady in need and learn just what is going on."

---

Roll only to be used when we have an agreement to open the door:
rolled 106 using 1d100+42 with the Role/Spacemaster system (fumble range of 1 to 5) with rolls of 64.  Crime Technics @+5.

As the others appeared to be getting ready for a fight, Petra drifted towards the rear of the group - placing as many of the larger men between her and the door.  "I'm not much of a close combat specialist." the lithe brunette offered, "I'm a fighter pilot not a fighter."  In fact, she was more an evasive maneuvers pilot, but had enough time in combat craft.

And while she might not refuse to carry an improvised melee weapon, her demeanor and carriage showed that she had little to no formal training in close quarters engagements.

Petra nodded to Yom when he asked if the door should be opened, comfortable that it didn't open into a breached area or one that had a fire on the other side.  Beyond that, she couldn't really tell.

One foot hooked on a bunk railing for stability, her head floated closer to Natakkoa's head.  A light smile touched her lips even as her eyes continued to focus on the door.  "Boys will be boys." Petra noted softly, adding after a slight pause, "Right, Professor?"
This message was last edited by the player at 04:24, Fri 26 May 2023.

"Good job Yom."
Said Qquirell, looking up from the chair.  "I'm inclined to believe the lady too. I also think there may be nine more crew members on board and we might be the shift not working at the moment. Problem is we won't know whose crew and who isn't if we encounter one or two of them. If short-term memory was erased from everyone they won't recognize us either. Although I am surprised I didn't respond to the intercom."

"I'd rather be responsible for my own fate than to be left in the hands of someone else. Who knows what will happen once they are done. How fast do we get to the armory the more comfortable with all feel. I'd say we should go."

Petra gave Yom a 'thumbs-up' echoing Quirell's positive affirmation in working the door.

The lithe brunette shrugged slightly.  "Lots of stuff doesn't make sense." she mused aloud, "Including... or maybe especially... the memory loss.  Not really an effective crew, if we don't know what we are supposed to be doing.  Or where we are.  Or who we are working with..."  Her burgundy lips were pressed into tight moue, "Unless we are being tested or something."  Petra obviously found the thought distasteful; she shook her head, partly to clear out the cobwebs, but also to vent her frustration, "This seems more like a sick game or something."

She blew an errant lock of hair from her face and introduced herself, since she figured she was in control of (some of) that last part of the unknowns, "Call me Petra."

But then she got back to brass tacks.  "In any case, besides the fact that the armoury is not this room," she prompted the others - but especially Quirell since he'd brought it up most recently, "Do we have any idea where the armoury actually is?  At least, relative to here?"  If this was a standard layout for a station or craft, Petra didn't seem to be aware of it.

Rhawn observed the others as they went about their investigations, doing his best to stay out of everyone's way. When the subject of fighting finally came up as it inevitably did, he had his two monets to toss in.

"We need to think outside the box," he said. "The straps on our backpacks can be used as weapons. If your bag is heavy enough, it can be swung as a flail. It and its contents can be thrown... if nothing else, to disrupt the enemy's aim."

"Something as simple as a pen or pencil can be dangerous in the right place at the right time."

"Also, keep in mind that gravity itself... or lack thereof in this case... can be an ally and a weapon. The other end of the corridor isn't necessarily linear--it's also DOWN. Think about dropping down onto the enemy instead of crossing the room upright."

"And, yes, remaining here does not seem like an option. I vote on opening the door and begin exploring."

Nat smiled and inclined her head, bowing slightly. "At your service... Petra. Or would you prefer P.J.?"  Nat reached out, freed her bulging bag from a nearby bunk, and began rifling through the contents, letting herself drift to an interposing position between Petra and door under discussion, keeping Petra to the rear of the assembly. "In my experience, it's *humanity* as a whole, more than any one gender, that tends to see the "fight" in everything. Although..." she paused, listening as both the colorful one and the one who'd first approached the intercom made arguments for caution, and only seemed to be preparing for battle out of necessity,"...there might hope for most of this group..."

Clearing her throat loudly, Nat looked over at The Guy From the Beach Who'd Behaved Himself. "Um... I'm not sure Ilione said anything about 'hostiles.' Did she say there were two 'man-shaped things that looked like'" she made a staticky **zZZZzt** sound, "and that she'd simply lost track of them?"  She shrugged.  "In which case, they **might** be 'hostiles,' but let's not lead with that assumption." She glanced over at where the original intercom interactor was wrestling with a table leg, and nodded at him.  "However, he's got the right idea  -  *anything* is better than nothing."

A lightbulb went off, and Nat sheepishly dug a small portable minicomputer from her pack, and waved it at the man worrying the table leg.  "In the confusion of waking up and trying to figure out where we are, I'd completely forgotten I'd had this with me.  Will it still help, or has that moment passed, now that we've almost got the door open?  Can you still use it?  Do you still *want* it?"  She set it on the bunk near her, should he want it.

She continued to rummage through her pack, eventually pulling out a small, rolled, leather bundle, a vest, and a roughly 6" diameter piece of equipment.  Slipping the kevlar vest on, she strapped the electronics over it to her chest, then unrolled the leather bundle and turned to Petra.  "Are you comfortable with sharp objects?  If not, I've got a couple of small hammers," as she tucked one carving knife under her deflector strap, took one in hand, and tucked the rest into her belt.  "I, uh...like to wood carve.  To relax..."


Nat nodded in agreement with the assessment to open the door  -  she was ready.  "Natakkoa" she added, a little bluntly, to the others in the room.  "'Nat' is fine."


While not as experienced in zero-g as some of the occupants of the room  -  she glanced behind her at Petra  -  she hoped her aquatic experience operating in three dimensions would be applicable.  So far, so good....
This message was last edited by the player at 18:31, Sun 28 May 2023.

Yom shook his head.
"Not true, she did say 'hostiles' explicitly."

Yom shrugged and activated the comms again.
"Ilione, what did the two do that you consider them hostile. Did they attack any station crew?"
This message was last edited by the player at 09:01, Sun 28 May 2023.

Quirell smiled, revealing bright white perfect teeth.

"I'm Quirell.  I've been called many things, I think." He scratched his head and straightened his hair.

"Nat, your personal computer won't help if we can't hook it to a network. Although if any of you keep a journal or a diary it might help, now and ongoing. I try to keep my digital signature to a minimum."

He turned the chair upside down and attempted to attempted to kick off the legs.

"I suspect tactically an assault against a communication hub is done by someone who does not want a record to exist of their transmission. I suspect our short-term memories have been erased by a chemical, radiation, or; 'maker' forbid; a psychic. In case we noted it."

"I'd have to find a medical scanner to confirm that hypothesis."

There is a bit of crackle on the line, interference of some kind, and then Ilione voice comes back"...and I think they killed the crew.  They only look like men but I think they are zzZZZZZZZzz..." and the rest is lost in interference.

---

"Agreed." Nat finished adjusting her vest and shield, waiting to turn it on until needed. "And the fact that three times now the intercom has fritzed whenever Ilione attempts to describe these humanoid hostiles,"  -  she emphasized the word with a grateful nod toward Yom, his name finally making its way through the chaos of information filling her head, something he must have mentioned earlier, because she *knew* she'd never heard it at the beach  -  "seems too 'convenient' to be accidental."  A half-smile touched her lips.  "As they say, 'three data points establishes pattern.'" Her brow furrowed a moment in thought.  "That sounded better in the original Churgan..."


With a nod of understanding toward Quirell, Nat then returned the mini-computer to her pack and slung one strap over her shoulder. "Pleased to meet you.  Well, preferably under better-informed circumstances. If you spot any access points, let me know, and you're welcome to use my interface."  She paused, a touch of color coming to her cheeks. "Um..." Smooth, genius. Really showing off your command of the language there... "...you know what I mean..."

Nat pointed to the chair Quirell was working on.  "I have a small wood chisel that could be used as a makeshift screwdriver, if that would help?  Or, in the interest of time, you could just smash it on the desk." She shrugged. "It's not like it's a secret we're here..."

Turning back toward Yom, she shifted the carving knife in her hand and tilted her head in assent.  "Let's do it."

Rhawn had wrapped one leg around a bed post to keep from floating away in the zero-gravity. It was a new sensation for him, but he had read enough information about it to know what to expect. Dealing with it first hand wasn't the same as textbook knowledge, though, so he was attempting to avoid the novice mistakes.

"Good point... about the 'convenient' interference when she tries to identify the hostiles by species," Rhawn agrees. "It also lends a bit of credence to the idea that we're being tested... somehow, for some reason... possibly to see how well we can work together. One way to look at it is that this is our interview for the mission. Perhaps a bit unorthodox, but not unheard of."

"On another note, all that interference indicates the transmission may be coming from outside the station. Her end of the line might also be damaged. Another possibility is the presence of a strong EW or radiation source. Or... it could all just be staging for our benefit."

With a bit less urgency, he had time to ponder the situation a bit more... not what had already happened but what to expect going forward. Once they opened the door, would there be gravity on the other side? Or was the whole facility now in zero-gee?
This message was last edited by the player at 00:45, Tue 30 May 2023.

Her foot still anchored on a bunk as she floated, Petra simply shrugged and nodded as the group discussed the incongruities surrounding their predicament; not a lot of it was making much sense.  Yet.  "Mind wipes.  Locked doors..." Petra mused aloud, "And apparently, we aren't the crew."  She let out a deep breath, "Curiouser and curiouser."

"This is looking less like an audition..." the lithe grav-racer grimaced, another deep-breath as she tried to control the butterflies in her stomach that were starting to form, "...and more like we've been shang-hai'd."  Which, of course, would never happen on a place like Hyperion IX...  Press-ganged and enslaved.  Who'd have thunk it?

Still, she didn't accept the knife from Nat, figuring that others would likely be more effective than her.  "I'd probably just cut myself." the raven-haired pilot noted simply to her erudite acquaintance.

Yom nodded when everyone seemed to agree to head out.
The situation was still very unclear, various ideas had been thrown around and played with.
They would only know when they investigated.

Yom had seen some were equipped with shields, devices that were well beyond his elmonit account, never mind availability. Obviously he felt out of place.

Yom crouched down and took a quick look outside, the right side of the corridor... if there even was a corridor. He did the same for the other side but actually went down on his stomach to do so.
He chuckled then at himself.
"Does anyone have something like a mirror for peeking around corners?", he asked sheepishly.

In reply to Petra Jelinek (msg # 50):

Nat dipped her head a touch, to meet the hazel-green eyes of the only slightly shorter woman. Sandy beach, touched by the sea... commented the analytical part of her mind.  Another part of her mind spun for a moment, nodding vigorously in silent agreement before, with barely a noticeable pause, she continued.

"Well, you know you best.  Still...." she cast about the spartan room for options. Hmm, that might work... She moved toward the nearest desk, pulled out the flat, wide center drawer, and offered it to Petra with a tilted smile.

"No sharp edges! Useful for a little bit of defense at least, and worst case scenario, you can swing it at someone with small danger of hurting yourself."


Turning back to Yom, she replied "Sorry, no makeup compacts or mirrors over here."  She looked in Rhawn's direction and raised an eyebrow.  "But perhaps...?"