Chapter 4 - Lost in the Void

Electric music with repetitive and heavy beats that are equally felt and heard blares from the speakers. The light is not dim, but not very bright either, but it changes colors in gentle fades. The air is heavy of sweat and smoke. Nazir is waiting nervously at a table over to the side where the music is less loud and one can hear what the other is saying without screaming into each others ear. When he spots you, he beckons you to his table.
Quickly a server stops and takes the orders.
After everybody got acquainted Nazir cuts to the chase. "Thank you for agreeing to see me. I'm looking for a crew that is willing to help me find my dad. Three months ago he went out on a mining expedition. Routine stuff normally. Over to the Gor system, they mine there a lot. But something went wrong during the jump and we lost contact.
We know the arrived in Gor, from the last logs we got. But no word since. I need to find him, I'm sure he is still out there and he needs my help. There is not much I can offer, but 4000 cr that I saved up over the years. But you can keep everything else we run into, I just want to find him. It's not much, I know, but maybe you can find it in your heart to help me out. "
The drinks arrive and interrupt his speech. After the server leaves he looks around to search for reactions in the crews eyes.

Taelor bobs her head to the music as she heads to the table. When the waiter comes around, she asks him if there's a house specialty and orders that. She leans forward in her seat to better hear Nazir as he tells his tale, listening with sympathy.

Once he's done, she sits back. "Gor is pretty far. We'll have to make two drills to get there. The good news is, we can pass by Mentta, and I found a couple of leads for cargo jobs to Haliant. Maybe someone there will need something shipped to Gor."

moarhair wrote:

"Gor is pretty far. We'll have to make two drills to get there. The good news is, we can pass by Mentta, and I found a couple of leads for cargo jobs to Haliant. Maybe someone there will need something shipped to Gor."

"Three drills, with a stop on Astyoc", adds Graham. His eyes look to the ceiling, he mouths some words as he does some math in his head. "It's almost 2500 in maintenance alone for the travel time, not including any time planet-side, plus 1500 in fuel. Another 1000 if we have any interest in getting back to Aldega. If this were the only job involved, we'd be doing it at a loss. We could help you, as long as you understand that this job isn't paying our bills. In other words, it would not take top priority, but would be part of our 'Things to do in Gor' list."

The fingers of his right hand drum the table as he looks at Nazir.

Nazirs eyes get a hopeful glow after Taelor finishes, only to sink in despair again when Graham lays down the naked facts of the economics of such a trip. "Maybe I could ask my uncle, he might be able to loan me another 1000 cr. But that's all we have. I don't require you to take me exclusively, but please, we cannot linger too long. It is a long trip and if he is still alive, time is not on his side." Giving another pleading look to everyone, his eyes stay on Elan, Rena and Lola in hopes for someone to tip the scale in his favour.

"It is a long trip," Elan agrees evenly. He doesn't mind the downtime, personally, although he prefers it right after he's completed a big score and can chalk it up to laying low until the heat dies down. In this case it feels more like a waste, or a missed opportunity.

He looks around the better-connected members of the group. He nods approvingly when Taelor mentions that she found a couple of leads for cargo jobs to Haliant. "What else can we drum up?" he asks. "And how much space do we have to spare anyway?"

He looks at Nazir. "I've been in your shoes before," he says. "Not looking for my father, mind you, but needing to hitch a ride and being at the mercy of whoever is going that way." He nods sympathetically, but it would be hard to interpret it as outright support for the job.

"Chartering a ship is costly, and that's just one-way. If we get you to Gor, do you have a way to get back? Or are you going to be out another 5,000 credits that you won't have to get back to Aldega? I'm all about reuniting with dad, but at that point are you going to be stuck on Gor? Just thinking things through here." Is Elan being helpful, or is he twisting the screws trying to find out if there's more honey in the pot?

Thelonius wrote:

"Maybe I could ask my uncle, he might be able to loan me another 1000 cr. But that's all we have. I don't require you to take me exclusively, but please, we cannot linger too long. It is a long trip and if he is still alive, time is not on his side."

Graham raises a hand in a dismissive gesture, "Please, no need for your extra thousand. Taelor, are you sure there's a pickup or some other job we can do that takes us to Gor? As long as we have paying work along the way, we can manage it."

Graham doesn't know whether Nazir is telling the truth about getting a loan for another thousand credits, nor does he know whether his friends just spotted his soft underbelly. Leaning on corporate executives is one thing, but squeezing desperate people for money rubs Graham the wrong way. If he can make the numbers work, he'll make this happen for Nazir. But if time isn't on Nazir's side, the extra stop at Astyoc may really pose problems.

"It's going to take, what, twelve days to get to Gor, plus stops along the way? May be a good fifteen or sixteen days or more with business mixed in. Would have been quicker in the Shackleford, that's for sure, but we've got what we've got."

He glances to Nazir. There can't be too many options for him, or he wouldn't be at the table. Hard luck, for sure.

Taelor winces when Graham mentions Astyoc. If she never landed there again, it would still be too soon, but he had mentioned it a few times already. She knew she wouldn't be able to avoid it forever. But maybe a bit longer...

"I think it would make more sense to stop on Astyoc on our way back." Taelor thinks how far she'd go if she thought her family was in trouble. "It doesn't seem urgent compared to Nazir's missing dad."

"We can hop to Haliant, get paid. Hop to Gor, get paid. Then hop to Astyoc, flush with cash and time to take care of our business there."

moarhair wrote:

"I think it would make more sense to stop on Astyoc on our way back." Taelor thinks how far she'd go if she thought her family was in trouble. "It doesn't seem urgent compared to Nazir's missing dad."

"We can hop to Haliant, get paid. Hop to Gor, get paid. Then hop to Astyoc, flush with cash and time to take care of our business there."

Graham listens and nods. He scratches his head, thinking about the responsibilities he's juggling upstairs.

"We also have people doing work for us, securing significant assets, who aren't getting paid until we visit Astyoc. If we take this job and ignore that responsibility, the losses could be huge, and we won't be able to fly this ship for long. I'm sympathetic, for sure, but not prepared to sacrifice the future to gain a few days for a job that doesn't pay for itself. If we take this job and skip Astyoc, we may have to sell this ship and buy a shuttle just to keep flying. I guess the question might be, "How long would any of us be willing to work without getting paid?", and "If they aren't getting paid, why wouldn't they take the resources for themselves to pay their own bills?" It's possible that we aren't the right ship and crew for this job. Nazir's question has to be" and Graham gives a quick nod to Nazir, "If I don't accept these terms, how many days will it take to find another ship and crew to get to Gor?"

Graham pauses, purses his lips, then continues. "If I'm understanding this correctly, Nazir's problem has existed for more than a month. Whatever urgency there was, and I hate to put this bluntly, that urgency has passed. We've officially entered 'sooner is better than later' territory, but the best thing for this ship and crew (as I see it, anyway) is that we pursue this a bit later. Sometimes that happens, and Nazir may need a ship that's going to reach Gor sooner."

There's nothing in his demeanor that says his mind is made up, but the management of an expensive ship and the responsibilities on Astyoc are clearly at the forefront of his thinking. "Shit, we don't even know if Nazir's on the up-and-up. What do we know about his father? Is it really his father? Are we being used for other purposes? Is he planning on stealing the ship? We literally know nothing."

The conversation continues for a little longer and hopeful that this, his only option, could get him to Gor, he tells a bit more about himself and his story.
He is a young man of mid-twenties, son to a prospector, his mother died when he was an infant. Nazir is learning to follow his father in profession, but did not finish his studies yet.
His father is an independent prospector working for hire for various mining companies on Aldega and the closer part of the sector. Given his job, he is often out on assignment for weeks on end, but after each assignment he makes at least equal amount of time to stay at home.
While he is gone, Nazir used to stay with his uncle, but obviously by now he is old enough and has his own place.
The fathers latest assignment was the exploration of a few promising rocks in the asteroid belt around Gor. The company which hire him is AstroOre, a new client.
Nazir knows his dad arrived in Gor, cause the logs of the station Okhotsk showed them for refueling. Since then no more information reached Nazir.
The fathers name is Rahim.

Her seat pulled slightly back, both feet tucked underneath the seat, and with her hands resting on her drink, Lola watched the rest of the crew while they spoke. A lot of what they spoke about, were details she didn't know a lot about. In one of her brief stints as an officer before being broken back down, she'd had to act as quartermaster, ensuring the troop had enough supplies to last. She could balance books, but she didn't know the relative costs here. She could only give her personal opinions. Tapping her fingers on the rim of her drink she looked up.

"I'm not really in this for making great profit. As long as I can survive that's enough for me. Every comrade has their own needs and dreams. As a blow in I don't know much of the details here so take what I say with the shit from the sky, but as far as I can see, there's three options. And like Rosaharr and the three piggies, each is different."

Looking across at Nazir, assuming he'd know the well known children's story from this planet, she counted off on her fingers.
"Could go slim and greasy, which would be straight there, blowing all our funds. Two would be plump and hairy, Taelors suggestion, taking a bit longer but hopefully picking up another job. Three is big and toothy, as with Graham, the long way but leaves us in a secure position. If you'd asked me before I was dragged off to serve I'd have gone for one every time, but I've had to get a bit more careful."

She looked over at Taelor.
"My vote would be with Taelor's plan."

The conversation trickles on a bit longer, but the agreement ends up to reconvene on the ship and check for shipping in the port for the right direction.

The port computers offer various jobs all of which are bound for Phistos or Mentta.
For Mentta there are two open jobs that fit the criteria, one for consumer goods to Halliant for 15,000 cr and one for 'generic medical equipment' for 25,000 cr.

The agreement with Nazir is to meet the crew on the ship the next day, to detail the plan and departure date.

"These look good," Elan says, looking over the open jobs to Mentta/Haliant. "Is there a deadline on either of them?"

He looks to the group. "If there's no deadline, maybe we can stop on Astyoc for a short bit and make sure folks there get paid. Not long enough to extract reactors - especially if our cargo hold is full - but maybe long enough to survey the base a little more, see if someone at the starport left behind a multifocal laser or a sandthrower for Rena."

He glances to her.

"Then off to Haliant. Given its size, it's entirely possible that Nazir will be able to find someone to take him to Gor from there. Or, maybe we get lucky and find a transport job to Gor for ourselves. It all depends how long we can be away from Astyoc without it going belly up without us." A look to Graham. "That place could be our launchpad to success, or it could be our ball and chain."

Tecumseh wrote:

"These look good," Elan says, looking over the open jobs to Mentta/Haliant. "Is there a deadline on either of them?"

"If there's no deadline, maybe we can stop on Astyoc for a short bit and make sure folks there get paid. Not long enough to extract reactors - especially if our cargo hold is full - but maybe long enough to survey the base a little more, see if someone at the starport left behind a multifocal laser or a sandthrower for Rena."[/color]

Nodding along with Elan's train of thought, Graham appears to be in agreement. "Yeah, nothing long-term on Astyoc. If Senn and Jasper have already arranged to bring security 'bots or the reactor out of there, we can pick those up -- but no need for anything big like we did before. Hit the town, introduce Rena and Lola to the local spice beer, take care of pay, give some direct instructions, and get out."

Tecumseh wrote:

"That place could be our launchpad to success, or it could be our ball and chain."

This one gets a direct response from Graham. "It's both. It's responsibility, and it's money, and with money, we gain choices. We have one big option here that we haven't even considered, and it may be worth looking at. IN is in the business of medical tech, right? One of our biggest draws to Astyoc is adapting Cerebrus' programming to the medical nanotechnology. We could sell this to IN, and put the recovery of Astyoc in their hands. It's valuable, and there could be a pretty big payday..."

His eyes grow wide as his shoulders rise in a slow, exaggerated shrug.

After settling for a side job, arrangements are started to be made. The contact with the client is very straight forward and business like.
Arguing administrative details and bureaucratic obligations, Graham manages to get them to cover the, not insubstantial, docking fees on Haliant and a refuel, making the agreed 15,000 cr clean profit.
The cargo will be delivered the next day and is expected to arrive at the destination within a four week time frame. After that penalties will be taken off the reward on a weekly basis.

Nazir is instructed to arrive accordingly with his luggage and a big bag of time. Everything is settled for departure.

Arrangements made and deals settled, Lola took the opportunity of a couple of free hours to take a little bit of a wander, before they had to depart. When she'd first been forcibly removed from her home Zavod, she'd often dreamed of returning, of being able to walk down the same streets that she knew so well. However when she'd actually done so with Elan, her overriding feeling had been of surprise. Everything was so much smaller. Endowed with less significance than they did in her memories. She'd been away for too long. Her blood was elsewhere and there were only a few she recognised. Walking through the place where she'd taken her first steps, only reinforced the feeling of how much she'd changed and the lack of connection she had here. Perhaps if she had decided to stay she could regrow those roots but she had too much life yet to live to turn to that. Home was the community you made rather than what you were born into.

Instead she took a wander into Haydock. Her connections on her home planet might be weak but one of the anarchist groups she was a member of had made mention of a revolutionary speaker in a café that afternoon. Someone who went by the name of Father Uallachan. She'd never heard the name before but considering she had a few hours to spare, she decided to visit. It could turn into a future connection.

Despite the relatively early hour, most of the tables were full and she was only able to grab one at the very back. Everyone's attention was directed to a small man who was standing on a table in the centre of the room. From what she could see, he was about three foot, and with thick blond curly hair and a beard half way down his chest. He was gesticulating excitedly as he spoke, apparently in the middle of a story.
"... and so me merry feckers, who was she to choose? The son who'd taken the coins and returned with crops he could sell for double? The daughter who'd bought the bodies of others who'd return five times the outlay? Or the dirty dog who forged a new will, deciding that if they were going to start playing games there was only one way to win? Turn your kids into spreadsheets and they'll have you spread on that sheet, faster than I can twist a parable. Or how about this for a thought? Say the whip hand man says he needs your body to work the machine and throw two fingers up to whatever else you might want. Ignore and you'll be sacrificed, thrown out to starve on the rocks. Do you offer the neck in supplication, or accept the sacrifice in faith of your fight? As I was saying down the brothel last night; can you'd be sure no one would pay for me when they'd sell themselves for so much less? I've a bleed'n book here. Buy a page and you'll feel guilty for days. Buy the whole thing and you'll have a comfortable seat when the world burns. Actually read it and you'll know what I was thinking when I wrote it."

The speaker had a red haired and bearded companion who'd she'd purchased a copy from before heading back to the port. It wasn't really her style, its metaphors based on stories she'd never learnt and far from clear, but it had been a while since she'd got new reading material. She'd give it a try on their voyage.

Everyone was back aboard the ship. Taelor had taken to calling it the Undertow. It rolled off the tongue better than INS-CX-1343 and it kept with the water theme of the Tsunami. She had no idea if it would catch on, but fingers crossed.

The rest of the crew had had the... pleasure... of meeting the cat, with varying degrees of success. Taelor had Defeated It In Battle to earn its respect. It had been interesting to watch everyone else's approach.

***

Taelor sits in the pilot's seat doing her final checks before take off. The Tecmedan militia had her fly ships of similar size for cargo runs a few times, so that wouldn't be a new experience, but there was something special about sitting at the controls of a ship was hers. Well, hers in part, of course, but still. She had butterflies in her stomach. She starts the drive and a gentle purr resonates through the Undertow(pending approval)'s halls. Those corpers might have been bastards, they hadn't skimped on maintenance. A blissful smile slowly spreads across her lips.

She checks her computer for the spaceport's traffic controller's instructions, then flicks on the ship-wide comm. "Good morning passengers, this is your pilot speaking," she says in a neutral, soothing tone. "We are currently third in line for take off and should be in the air in about 5 minutes. Please make sure your belongings are secure and fasten your seatbelts. We thank you for choosing STEGO Spacelines and we wish you a vomit-free flight."

beep... beep... beep...
It is still a long in-system flight to Haliant, when Taelors attention gets drawn to the controls.
beep... beep... beep...
At first she is unsure about the source of the beeping, when she sees the warning on the screen. The signal seems to come from a distress beacon. Unfortunately the simple signal contains no message, no location, just the signal.

Graham pulls up the data on the comms, trying to isolate the signal. Ship? Planet? Station? As systems go, Mentta is busier than most, and Undertow won't be the only ship or installation receiving the signal. Graham utilizes the system overlay to isolate chatter, and find out who's talking about the signal.

He initiates a scan for ship traffic, looking for the steady rhythms of healthy spike drives, or possibly the erratic patterns of a ship in trouble. His mind flips back to the oceans of Halgerd, how the 12-finned snapping eels would track easy prey, fully attuned to erratic compression patterns in the water. He abstractly wonders whether the eels inspired the design of the tracking algorithms. He also vaguely recalls how a certain species of shark would duplicate those signals to lure the eels for an easy meal.

"Taelor, keep your eyes peeled for unwelcome visitors. Let's plot an escape route or two in case we get jumped, and I'll see what I can do with that signal."

Taelor nods. "Roger that. Should we take bets on whether it's a rescue, salvage, or a trap?"

A scan of the immediate area yields only one ship, likely source of the signal. The transponder identifies it as the Vagabond, a large trading vessel by some small unknown company.
It is about 20 min of course.

moarhair wrote:

Taelor nods. "Roger that. Should we take bets on whether it's a rescue, salvage, or a trap?"

"I'd say equal odds for each, soooo...50-50, it's a trap." Graham smiles about the obviously bad math, making it clear he harbors some suspicion.

"Let's see if we can shake out a ghost signal. Some erratic moves on the Y and Z-axis should ferret out a ghost, if there's another ship sitting directly behind Vagabond." Graham looks at the signal's waveform, and using his thumb and forefinger, spreads the scale for a better look at the peaks and valleys of the signal. Peaks and valleys that seem to re-position themselves in real time often indicate false or overlapping signals, he recalls from his days on his dad's ship.

Another section of his screen, he dedicates to spike drive emissions more consistent with fighters and weapon signatures.

He opens the comm link, attempting to make contact. "Vagabond, this is Undertow. Do you read?.......Vagabond, this is Undertow. Do you read?......."

Taelor chuckles. "Aye, aye. I'll take us on a wide ellipsis around the bait before moving us into the kill zone."

She plots a course towards the Vagabond, then going around the other ship, making sure they'd get a good view of it from different angles before moving in. As the Undertow flies towards the large trading vessel, Taelor plots a number of evasive maneuvers, just in case. Part of her hopes it is a trap. Space travel can get so boring. A bit of excitement might do them so good. In any case, it would probably be more fun than finding a dead ship full of frozen corpses.

Elan is disappointed to leave Aldega. It's a hive of scum and villainy with a lot of rich targets. He feels right at home there. He'd like to stay longer to steal something. Leaving without being on the run feels like a missed opportunity for sure.

The new ship is definitely not the Tsunami. The Undertow is quite... industrial. It reminds Elan of a flying stainless steel bathtub, all function and no form. The coffin cabins are very plain and the galley is very basic. He wonders if it used to be a prison ship.

While not the brightest bulb in the socket, Elan is passably observant, a skill honed from an elevated sense of self-preservation.

"Ah!" he gives a cry, having spotted something. He darts to the cockpit and gets down on all fours to look underneath the command console. "A kitty!"

He's obviously delighted by this development. He snaps his fingers, reaching under the sofa to offer affection. "Pspspspspst!" He is initially unsuccessful.

"She's suspicious and aloof!" he declares brightly, obviously smitten. He spends several minutes trying to coax her out while the others talk. At length he succeeds, his dexterous fingers being highly skilled at petting and scratching.

Holding her, however, is a bridge too far. She scratches at his arms to be let down and is somewhat befuddled when her claws find no purchase against his telekinetic defenses. He gets the hint though and lets her leap away. He turns back to the rest of the group with a contented sigh.

Then he finds his bunk, which - unlike the others - has been decorated with "Live Laugh Love".

"You guys did this for me?" Elan asks. He appears to be choking up. "You decorated mine but not yours?" He looks genuinely touched.

"Thanks," he says quietly, cherishing the gesture.

***

There's not much to do on the Undertow so Elan spends his time writing his space opera. It sucks.

"It's the acoustics in here," he explains, blaming the Undertow while blithely ignoring the faults in composition and execution. "They're way too harsh. This place is all solid surfaces and right angles. We need things to soften the sound. You know, like a sofa or something. Places to sit that you don't powerwash to clean."

Elan hears the commotion about the Vagabond so he drifts to the cockpit to investigate.

"We're in Mentta now, right?" he asks. "We're in the quiet corner of the sector because we came in from Xenthra, but this signal must be relatively fresh or someone would have responded from Haliant or Staconago by now, right?

"Is it disabled? Let's do a lap and look for external damage or some clues about why it's adrift." That seems to be the approach that Taelor is taking already, but Elan is trying to be helpful and doesn't know enough about ships to make any more intelligent recommendations.

"Maybe they have a sofa," he mutters to himself under his breath.

Taelor taps on the controls for a while and after hitting the execute button the ships turns into a wide arc around the Vagabond. It is far too far to be actually visible, just a small dot on an otherwise empty screen.
The signal is very weak and they are lucky to have caught it.
The journey on the spiral towards the ship will take 2-3h depending how wide the circles are, but already after a short while, Taelor can definitely confirm the signal comes from the Vagabond. Alas, the ship keeps radio silence.

"Looks like we're clear. I'm moving us in." There was always a chance a ship was hiding nearby, running cold. Space was vast and a powered down ship was hard to spot. However, that would be a lot of trouble to put yourself through in such an unfrequented part of the system. What kind of prey passed through here? The Astyoc shuttle? Taelor chuckles to herself thinking about what kind of podunk pirates would think up such a dumbass plan.

She enters a new course, bringing them close to the Vagabond, and starts looking for an airlock they could dock at.

"Can we contact Haliant and Staconago to ask about the Vagabond?" Elan asks. "This system is silly with research bases, space stations, fueling stations, and gas mines. Should we contact them to report the distress signal and see if anyone knows anything about her?"

This is the royal 'we'. Elan doesn't know how to do any of these things. But if they have 2 to 3 hours before arriving at the Vagabond then there's some time to kill.

He turns to Graham. "What are the salvage laws around here anyway?"

Tecumseh wrote:

"Can we contact Haliant and Staconago to ask about the Vagabond?" Elan asks. "This system is silly with research bases, space stations, fueling stations, and gas mines. Should we contact them to report the distress signal and see if anyone knows anything about her?" "What are the salvage laws around here anyway?"

"Right, just getting a message out now. //This is Undertow at coordinates (4634.22, 6109.43, 784.37), 8:22:13 local system time, reporting distress signal from Vagabond in this sector. Moving in to look for survivors, and if local law permits, to claim appropriate salvage. What can you tell us about Vagabond? If rescue team has already been dispatched, how may we assist?//
"We may regret telling anyone, especially if Vagabond has cargo of particular interest to powerful people. But we have the option to stay radio silent. Thoughts before I send, or forever hold your peace."

Graham looks to the crew for objections, shrugs, general acceptance, or faces that indicate a need to use the restroom.

He scans for data from the local mail beacon, in case messages are passing to or from Vagabond. It may not be possible to extract that information, but he'll give it a shot. Any hints
about Vagabond's comings and goings could help.

As with the previous ship, Lola had spent the first few days in the void, intermittently exploring the ship from end to end and then spending her free time in communal areas, reading through her new material. She wasn't a fast reader, instead slowly perusing the page, taking in each sentence, her face tight in concentration. Whilst she was aware of the kitten, she didn't pay it any particular attention, treating it like any other member of the crew. She wouldn't shoo it, nor would she attempt to get its attention. She assumed it was here like its kin that she'd grown up around in the factory, to act as a mouser. They both had jobs to do, and neither were too likely to intertwine. When she watched Elan attempt to play with it, she raised an eyebrow in surprise but didn't say anything. Each to their own. What was he hoping would happen? Was this just another weird behaviour of his, or was this more general?

***********************
Standing in the bridge she had followed the ongoing situation with interest. It was a relief to find the rest of the crew was as wary as she was when it came to an ambush. This far into the void, one mistake could sacrifice everything.
"I think it's worth sending the message. There is a chance there could be some great bounty inside which we lose out on. Feels like the same chance though, there is information we could learn which would make us not enter that ship. And while adding to what we have would be nice, we don't need it like we need our lives. We don't need to need to get greedy over something so unknown."

When it came to it, she'd be the first to enter the ship. It was still a way off, so no need to get physically ready yet, but as a precaution she started to run through her breaching training in her mind.

The crew seems unfazed by the contents of the message, and with no further input, Graham hits 'send'.

He scans frequencies looking for Mentta system chatter, most of which is coded. Graham checks the database, hoping that Undertow's previous travels would leave some record of the common public channels -- colloquially known as 'hailing frequencies'. He does find sector news and tunes the comm station, piping the stream through the ship's speakers. He dials the volume back, enough to hear, but not to stifle conversation or in case any signals come through from Vagabond.

He lets this play for 15 minutes or so, before shutting it off. Ensuring that nothing big was happening in-system that would require their attention, Graham refocuses his attention on the trading vessel with its lonely distress beacon.

When no opposition voices, Graham sends his message and turns back to the crew, knowing that a reply will likely only arrive at the time when the Undertow will reach the Vagabond.
The system stations are playing a concert of Finky McDoodle on Haliant. Generic pop music oozes out of the speaker, made to please everyone, but fails to be liked by anyone.

The salvage laws in this region of the sector are a bit fuzzy, as things tend to be when a multitude of interested parties shape rules. "A party may claim a vessel, if after announcement of the claim no other party raises a valid objection within a reasonable time frame."
One does not need to be a lawyer or master administrator to know that "valid" and "reasonable" are very flexible terms.

"What kind of sensors do we have on this tub?" Elan asks Taelor. "Will we be able to see if the Vagabond has power? Life support?"

He leans against a wall. "I only have an atmofilter. I can scrub the air but I don't have any of my own. I think Lola's the only one of us with a vacc suit. If the Vagabond is depressurized then we might be out of luck, unless we have some way of towing it in."

"We don't have anything fancy, but enough to know if they have power and if their hull is breached. As for if they have atmo, Graham might be able to pick it up, but it'll take some finagling."

"There are some maintenance vacc suits in storage." Taelor shrugs. "Not exactly something I'd like to be wearing in a fight, but at least we have options."

Graham types on his console sending out the sensors signals towards the Vagabond.
Given the limited sensitivity of the sensors he is happy to find out that the ship seems under pressure and there seem to be no hull breaches. The reactor is off, but emergency backup power seems to be still in function. That is all the sensors yield.

"Well that's good news," Elan says about the Vagabond being pressurized.

"What are our options?" he asks the group. "We don't have boarding tubes. Unless someone opens the airlock from inside - which doesn't seem likely, given the lack of response - we'll need to open it from the outside. And that still presents the issue of propelling ourselves from the Undertow to the Tsunami."

He sits back, contemplating a jump from one ship to the other. That would be... insane? Exciting? If the jumper missed, could the Undertow just swing around and scoop them up out of the emptiness of space?

"Any other tools in the toolbag? Can they be towed?"

"We don't have a tractor beam and the Undertow isn't a tugboat. I could probably rig something up..." Taelor is trying to be helpful, but her tone makes it clear what she thinks of the idea.

"I think hopping over is our best bet. I can park us close enough to make the leap easy. Between my way with machines and yours getting into places you're not supposed to, I'm pretty sure we can get the airlock open." She turns around and looks at Elan inquisitively. "Would this be your first spacewalk?"

"Well, we do have docking rings...", says Graham, slightly hesitant to send the crew leaping out into space.

"As long as no one is actively trying to keep us from docking, we should be able to connect. Whether we can bypass their door controls, well, that's a different issue. But if we want to keep Vagabond pressurized, that's probably the best way to get in."

Elbow on the console, chin in hand, Graham suggests, "Of course, docking leaves Undertow vulnerable in the event this is an ambush to steal another ship."

He resumes his scans, hoping to get any data. Life signs. Hints of damage. Presence of fuel. Anything to give him some sense of what has happened here.

He remembers his father's words, "When the hatch closes, everyone on board is your responsibility. And when the hatch opens, anything can happen."

He knows he's not the captain, nobody has made him captain, but Graham is acutely aware of his age -- he can't shake the feeling of responsibility for the younger people on the ship.

"A docking ring would be easier but if it came to it, I've experience spacewalking. I could see about going that way."

She folded her arms, leaning back against the wall.
"If there continues to be no signs from inside though lets go with the docking ring."

Looking between Elan and Taelor, she paused for a moment before continuing. She'd not done anything like this with this group before so she wasn't sure who did what. Some people might feel slighted if they felt she was stepping into their role. So while it made sense to her that she'd lead the breach, it was something she should bring up.

"I've taken part in a few opposed breaches, so I'd be happy to volunteer to be first into the ship. Hope is it won't be anything like that, but be worth treating it like that. Also while I know splitting up is dangerous with a crew this size, I'd suggest one or more stay on this ship. Someone needs to keep in contact with the scanners, so they can have an eye on the outside world. Otherwise anything could be happening out here while we are blind inside the ship."

Taelor winces. Bigger vessels did have docking capabilities, but their new ship was built for cargo transportation to places it could land. "I'm afraid the Undertow isn't built for ship-to-ship docking. If we want to head over, it'll have to be through the big empty. I suggest Lola, Elan and I head over. Graham, you've been learning to fly and are pretty good on the sensors, so it's best you stay. Rena... Where is Rena?" Probably blitzed out in her bunk... Did they need to have an intervention?

"Fucking hell..." Taelor mutters. "We should get her up in case anyone needs serious medical attention. We can bring some lazarus patches with us. What do y'all think?"

moarhair wrote:

"I'm afraid the Undertow isn't built for ship-to-ship docking. If we want to head over, it'll have to be through the big empty. I suggest Lola, Elan and I head over. Graham, you've been learning to fly and are pretty good on the sensors, so it's best you stay. Rena... Where is Rena?"
"Fucking hell...We should get her up in case anyone needs serious medical attention. We can bring some lazarus patches with us. What do y'all think?"

"That's a workable plan. Besides, the biggest concern is that there will be a shooting match when the hatch opens, and unless Vagabond is populated entirely by houseplants, it's better that you're providing cover rather than me. With Lola right there with you, I like our chances should it come to that."

Graham leans back at his console, and looks to Elan. "Between you and Rena, do you think one of you can hang back to man the tether? If things go south, I'd feel better if somebody is available at the airlock to pull you back to Undertow. May be a good job for Rena -- close enough to provide medical help, but not directly in harm's way. What do you think?"

"Did we want to scout the viewing ports to see if we can get a visual inside, before poking our heads in to say "Cheers, I hope you're not dead"?"

Graham snaps his fingers, and taps a few things on the console. "Maybe we can get something from thermal imaging..."

According to Graham's read outs the ship is not hot, but not cold either. Albeit the sensor is not very precise on the distance and with the extreme contrast of the void, so Graham cannot discern hotpots within the ship.

"If she has some patches on her, it would be useful to take over with us. I'm no medic but I've applied them before. We don't want to be leaving anyone behind over there, if things do turn."
She wondered momentarily while she wasn't with them, but didn't say anything. Perhaps this was normal for her.

Tilting her head to the side, she looked over at Graham, relaxing her arms so they hung down by her side.
"I'd be willing to go out on a line and scout if there are suitable windows."
They still knew so little, and any scrap was worth the risk.

"Let's get closer, gather some more intel, and then make our final decision," Elan suggests.

"I've never done a spacewalk, no. The thought of it makes me wish I were a a full telekinetic, one who could guide people over mentally. Some of them can even form their own vacc suits around them, pressurized and everything, or cling to walls in zero-g situations. Would be handy in a situation like this. But that's not how the Mother made me."

He looks around for Rena, who is conspicuously absent, likely tripping the light fantastic.

"I think Rena should go, if she's in her right mind. If anyone is alive and in need of medical attention, there's not a good way to bring them back over here for treatment. We'll need to treat them over there. Plus, between Taelor's technical expertise and Rena's general knowledge, maybe they can get the reactor back online."

Elan wonders if they'll end up with two ships. Probably not, but it's nice to imagine.

Graham nods his agreement as the others express their opinions, pleased with their motivation, pleased with the consideration they give to the situation. They've
never done anything like this together, but their sense for the situation appears solid to him, which puts his mind at ease.

But then:

Tecumseh wrote:

"I think Rena should go, if she's in her right mind.

This isn't the first reference to Rena's 'hobby'. "For fuck's sake. Are we relying on a junkie? 20% of the crew could be high at any given time? Well that's just fucking great, isn't it..."

Tecumseh wrote:

If anyone is alive and in need of medical attention, there's not a good way to bring them back over here for treatment. We'll need to treat them over there. Plus, between Taelor's technical expertise and Rena's general knowledge, maybe they can get the reactor back online."

Graham looks at no one in particular, and speaks quietly. "Can we find out Rena's current condition, please? It seems we're assigning risk and responsibilities based on how high a member of the crew is." Anyone not looking at Graham hears a calm voice. For those looking his way, a ripple of anger twitches its way across his jawline. "No point being angry, nobody knows what shape she's in. But that's just it, isn't it...we'll never know what shape she's in, and she has four lives depending on her."

He looks at his crewmates expectantly, waiting for a report on Rena's current state.

Two tiny dots in the vast emptiness of the system and yet, with great skill Taelor manages to circle the smaller dot around the larger one in a tight arc. The outside cameras clearly show the other ship, a dangerously close distance for anybody but the most skilled pilots.
The ship is clearly not new, signs of repair and scraped of painting are witness to the many tours this ship evidently completed. But given this, it's in good condition. Nothing obviously broken and no damages.

Taelor manages to stop the Undertow directly next to the Vagabond. Maybe 20 to 30 m as the astronaut flies, from airlock to airlock. For the passengers of the Undertow the Vagabond looks enormous, right outside their ship.
But in the end it's just two tiny dots in the vast emptiness of the system.

The hard part wasn't getting close to the Vagabond, it was matching its rotation. Bringing a ship to full stop in the middle of nowhere was a difficult. There was always momentum and no large object providing guidance with its gravity. The Vagabond's tilt and turn was subtle, but it was there, and if they wanted an easy exit, Taelor had to match it perfectly so the airlocks would stay opposite each other. It took her a bit of fiddling with the thrusters, but eventually, the Undertow settles into a perfect waltz with the larger ship.

"Pure ore," Taelor mutters with a cocky grin. She pulls herself out of her seat. "Time to suit up."

She heads out of the bridge and to the maintenance lockers. She packs up her toolkit, then puts on one of the vacc suits. It had been a couple of years since her last spacewalk and she was feeling pretty excited. There was something magical about the weightlessness of zero-G that made it truly unique. She leaves Mr. B behind. A projectile rifle seemed like a bad idea on a derelict ship, but brings her pistol and her knife.

She double-checks her gear and makes sure her suit is airtight. "Ready," she says, a goofy grin plastered on her face. After all this travel-time and a boring stop on Astyoc, finally some excitement!

As if to answer Graham's question, Rena appears before the older man and fixes him with a steely gaze.
"My 'condition' is fine, and your concern is both noted an appreciated." Her eyes are clear and lucid, though he is unable to tell whether she is sober or not. What he can tell is that she is geared up to leave the ship, a large personalised medkit handing from her shoulder and her faded jacket zipped up ready for quick donning of a vaccsuit. She gives Graham a sharp nod after he meets her gaze again, telling him that any fears he might have regarding her jeopardising the crew are unfounded, then greets the others.
"Apologies for my extended absence, but I was at critical stage in my research. I will be happy to share the results with you all later, but it seems we have more immediate concerns."

With everything ready and agreed the team springs to action. Drawn out by the unusual commotion Nazir comes from the galley and wonders "What is happening? Is there a problem?" but after the team assures this ship is fine and they would just try to help another ship he nods and returns to the galley, not to be in the way.

The vacsuits are donned easily. Being for maintenance and emergencies only they are not the newest models and far from comfortable or convenient. But they keep a tiny bubble of air around their fleshy contents and therefore do their core function well enough. The three girls joke around, trying to hide how tensed everybody is. A space walk is always exciting and even though they are routine there is always a small risk left.
Once everybody is geared up and the seals are triple checked, the girls enter the airlock. They each hook a safety line to their suits and start the cycle. The door of the airlock closes with a faint rumble and then the air pump starts working. As the air gets sucked out of the airlock back into the ship all sound fades away and silence falls over the girls. After a few minutes the cycle completes and the outside door opens. In front of them lies the open space. The Vagabond seems close enough to touch, but beyond it is the infinite distance of the void.

Secured by the safety lines the three astronauts kick off of the Undertow and float towards the Vagabond. The float is only short and the team lands safely. Guiding themselves on the hull the team makes for the airlock. Thanks to Taelors parking job the lock is close to where they got to the Vagabond, so it is easily found. As they get closer, Lola, being in the lead gasps in surprise, when she notices the airlock to be half open. She stops and observes, but the lock remains still, neither closing, nor opening.

Taelor kicks off the Undertow, sailing through the void as gracefully as one can in zero-G. She takes a moment to gaze at the stars, wondering, as she did as a child, how many of those held worlds she could visit. What sorts of wonders did those shining beacons signal?

Taelor turns her attention back to the Vagabond as it starts to loom over her. She brings her feet up so they face the other ship and activates the magnets in her boots. Their impact on the hull is a dull sound, audible only to her. She crouches to absorb the momentum, then slowly straightens back up. She looks up to see Lola already on her way to the airlock. She looks around to make sure Rena also landed safely and sees the doc getting to her feet as well.

Taelor grins. The Girls' Night Out was going well so far.

She makes her way to the airlock. As she approaches, she sees Lola pause near the door. Taelor peeks around the soldier and sees the thing is half open. It doesn't look like air is escaping, though. Carefully, the pilot makes her way around and takes a look into the chamber.

As Tailor and Lola work on the airlock, Rena secures herself to the ship's hull and moves to see if she can find any windows through which to see inside the ship.
Portholes, she corrects the voice in her head.

With the tether anchored inside the airlock, Undertow feels exposed, a feeling that creeps at Graham's spine. Even more so, with three of the crew floating around Vagabond...

On the open channel to the crew, Graham intones "Exterior recon only for the moment, please. If there are hostiles, let's not give them a weakness to exploit. Keep that tether away from that open hatch, if you can. A weapon trained on the hatch might be useful, too, while the other two find the portholes."

In his own head, Graham feels like the over-watchful father at the pool while his kids go for a swim. He hopes Lola and Taelor with their training are already thinking this way. Or, with their training, they're feeling over-confident. Who knows? He twists his mustache, and tries to uncoil the tension he feels in his body.

He taps at the console, trying to open a communications channel to Vagabond, and ensures that the recorders are on. There may be chatter over the comms, and if Vagabond responds, he wants playback available.

"Vagabond, this is Undertow. Come in, Vagabond.......Vagabond, this is Undertow. Come in, Vagabond......." With the open hail going, he attempts more close-range scans. Radiation. Spike drive emissions. Wait, what about incoming scans? He tunes for scanner emissions.