Chapter 3 — The Journey towards Marinagua

First Jump To Amnok - Seven Days in Jump

Seven days in jump-space pass with the steady rhythm of shipboard life. The team and crew of the Azure Voyager rotate through duty watches and downtime, making full use of the ship’s entertainment and educational libraries. Some commit to daily physical training; others bury themselves in study or catch up on the latest Hologram Trooles serials.

One of the things at did happen is that Chaala, Bohdie and Virel(?) brought the rest the of the team in and brought them up to speed on what they learned during liberty:Amara settles quickly into the cadence of shipboard meals and support tasks, with Bohdie everywhere at once—talking, helping, smoothing edges. Chaala spends hours in Engineering with Amara, working through general mechanical guides while Amara quizzes her, turning theory into habit.

Captain Halsson stands her watches like everyone else, sharing the bridge with her Engineer and Astrogator. Between meals the crew stows the dining table and rolls out exercise gear; between shifts, quiet conversations fill the commons.Day 128 on the Imperial Calendar, 1515 ship time. Edrin Mallor has the bridge. Just before the automated systems assume control, he notes a faint shimmer—an irregularity in the jump-bubble’s integrity. Jump-space precipitation, soon. Ten to fifteen minutes, by the book.
The ship’s voice follows, calm and mechanical:

"Jump exit in approximately ten minutes. Secure loose equipment and personal possessions. Proceed to designated stations and strap in."

Someone cracks the old joke about tray tables.
A soft kabloom. A brief lurch. A heartbeat of vertigo.
And then—normal space.

Arrival: The Amnok System

The Azure Voyager emerges into the pale light of an F-type primary, the system already alive with traffic. Immediately she is 'pinged' by Trooles Naval Ship, the TNS Vigilant Reach an Edhoda-class light cruiser. Captain Halsson immediately sends a message to the Vigilant Reach and this is returned with the message,
"Welcome to the Amnok System Azure Voyager, Captain Arvek Dannel sends his best"

Four Continental Lines freighters are in motion: two inbound at a steady one-G burn toward Amnok, two outbound and climbing for the jump point. Their transponder codes mark them as routine lifelines—without them, this system would wither.

On patrol, two Trooles Reconnaissance Command Perx-class scouts sweep broad arcs, backed by the heavier presence of a Trooles Naval ship Edhoda-class light cruiser holding station deeper in-system. The message is clear: quiet, orderly, watched.

Amnok itself—UWP A310644-C—is a small, airless world with low gravity and no surface water, its narrow ring system glinting where a moon should be. It sits comfortably in the habitable zone yet offers little comfort: sealed cities, scattered and self-contained, surrounded by vast wilderness. With a population just over seven million, Amnok survives by import alone—food, technology, and hope delivered on Continental Lines schedules.
A Class A starport anchors the system’s fortunes, complete with highport and downport facilities, refined fuel, and shipyards capable of maintenance and construction. Governance is a representative democracy; law is present but light enough that most citizens navigate it themselves. The culture is broadly harmonious but aloof—abstract symbols, familiar habits, few invitations.

For the crew and team aboard the Azure Voyager, Amnok is the first real waypoint beyond jump-space: a system that exists because the lanes are kept open, the patrols vigilant, and the schedules—so far—unbroken.

Captain Halsson has everyone secure from Jump Emergence and then she has Edrin starts the usual communication with Amnok Star lane control to identify the ship, request an entry lane towards the landing orbit positioning. In the meantime Captain Halsson sends an coded message to the Captain of the Trooles Naval ship inquiring about the IISS Harrier Jr. Admin Silva Dominicus's ship.

It will only take 121 minutes to reach the orbital lane positioning. During that time Captain Halsson comes down to the Crew Deck;
"They have not seen her. The Trooles Naval record is consistent with her flight plan and they recorded the Harrier Caxel on the exact date in line with her flight plan."
She looks around
"My plan is land at the port, take on fuel, and stores. No Liberty, we are going to turn and burn. No more than 12 no less than 6 hours here and then we are off. Questions?"

Bohdie listens to Captain Halsson and nods. When she asks for questions, he steps forward. "We are already on the ground for 6 hours, by your reckoning, Captain. Would it not be prudent for our IronHand contingent to at least make a few inquiries with the merchant crews? It may well be that there’s a crew in port that’s seen or heard something about our wayward crew and ship." Bohdie looks around and continues. "I mean, unless you need our extra hands around here." He motions around the deck and gives an overly genuine smile.

"Looks like the only merchant crews that are likely to be here are Continental Lines, and given their ubiquity in the region, I think we need to avoid giving their crews the smell of what we're after. If the Captain authorizes any Intel gathering, we need quiet leading questions, nothign direct, nothing that mentions we're missing a crew." Chaala pauses. "That said, if authorized, it's your op."

Wilburg thinks for some time before answering.

"We’re Scouts. We do data gathering, statistical research, study space, monitor systems.

The easiest thing is to tell them we’re conducting a study on vessel traffic in this sector and ask whether they’ve come across any of them. To muddy the waters even more, we can add questions about unusual phenomena and travel issues. I’m sure we can quickly come up with a thorough statistical survey that will leave them clueless and absolutely convinced we’re just doing our job."

Captain Halsson listens without interrupting, hands folded behind her back. When Bohdie finishes, she nods once.

"Your instincts are sound," she says evenly. "Human intelligence collection is the right call here. Quiet, contextual, and forgettable."

Her gaze moves briefly to Chaala.

"You’re correct about Continental Lines being the dominant presence—but this isn’t Imperial core space with megacorps and layers of corporate counterintelligence. This is closer to the fringe, or the Five Sisters if you’ve worked that far out. There are smaller merchant outfits operating here. A few start-ups, independents, and subcontractors trying to survive in the gaps Continental leaves behind."

She gestures toward the bulkhead, as if indicating the station beyond it.

"Remember what Amnok is. A free colony with a representative democracy—policy by elected representatives, referenda when it suits them, bureaucracy shaped by who’s allowed to vote. The world exists to support Continental Lines traffic moving toward the Zimcandon system. Outside the starport economy, life here is bleak. They import almost everything: food, technology, replacement parts. People talk. Information is loose if you know where to listen."

Her tone sharpens slightly.

"But you listen carefully. No direct questions. No mention of a missing ship. No hint that we’re hunting anything. Wilbur’s suggestion of a traffic or anomaly survey is acceptable—boring, even better. Muddy the waters. Leave no scent."

She turns back to Chaala fully.

"Chaala, you’re in charge of the Ironhand personnel on this. You decide who goes, who talks, and who stays quiet. My crew remains aboard to focus on replenishment and refueling."

A beat.

"Sidearms only. Nothing heavier. You do not get into a fight. If a conversation feels wrong, you disengage and walk. We are guests here, not enforcers."

She brings up a timer on her wrist display.

"You have no more than four hours. Emergency channel is one-four-three. Normal ship comms one-six-eight. Do not go below level two—signal degradation becomes an issue, and levels four and below get dicey fast."

Her eyes sweep the group.

"Get what you can, quietly. Be back on time. We turn and burn whether you find something or not. Questions?"

Bohdie nods, understanding the constraints of the task at hand. "Understood, Captain.". He turns to Chaala,"Four hours should be sufficient time to generate any leads if they are there to be had."

Wilbur asks

"Captain could we get some pad to create the same questionnaire for everyone and be able to write the answers? It will look professional and they will suspect nothing if they interrogate each other."

"You heard the Captain." Chaala says. "Time to look professional but not threatening. Bohdie's on point. Virel, you're second. Wilbur, you've got until we disembark to put together that survey. We're boots down in no more than 15 minutes since the clock's running. We need to hurry but not rush. No one should get the impression we're under time pressure until we lift off earlier than they might expect. The rest of us will be eyes and ears and step in when needed."

The lounges and bars of Amnok Highport are functional places—low light, recycled air, quiet music meant not to offend. These aren’t destinations; they’re pressure valves for crews waiting on clocks.

Bohdie moves first, relaxed and unhurried, choosing tables near traffic flow rather than corners. Virel stays just off his shoulder, listening more than speaking, eyes on faces and hands. Chaala and Wilbur keep distance—close enough to intervene, far enough to look incidental.

Wilbur’s questionnaire does its work.

It’s boring. Professional. Exactly what it should be.

Merchant crews answer politely. Some joke about Scouts being "everywhere and nowhere." Others shrug—too many ships, too many weeks. A few stories repeat, slightly different each time. A Scout ship here. A Scout ship there. Always quiet. Always brief.

Most of it is noise.

Then the drink changes hands.

The Continental Lines astrogator is mid-career, sharp-eyed, relaxed enough after his second glass. Virel buys the round without ceremony. The conversation drifts—routes, traffic density, strange surveys Scouts always seem to run.

"Harrier?" the astrogator says, squinting. "Yeah. I remember her."

He taps at his hand terminal, fingers flicking through translucent files projected just above the surface. He waves them away once, twice—then stops.

"There. That’s it. Lothian. Twenty-five… no—"
He pauses, adjusts the filter.
"Twenty-seven weeks ago. Refueled. Just over twelve hours."

He chuckles softly.

"Had a drink with the captain. Silva—Dominicus, I think. Smart. Sharp. Asked a lot of questions."
He leans in slightly.
"Tulsi Das System. Xanilay System. Routes, traffic reliability, things like that."

He starts to say more.

Chaala’s wrist timer buzes and ticks over—3:45.. Fifteen minutes left.

She meets Bohdie’s eye and Virel then gives a single, sharp nod.

The moment passes.

Chairs scrape softly. Credits settle. The questionnaire is closed and stowed. No one rushes—but everyone moves.

Fifteen minutes later, the Azure Voyager’s airlock seals shut.

Amnok Starport doesn’t notice them return to the Azure Voyager.

Bohdie maintains a passive look on his face all the way back to the ship. But inside, he knows the team has done well. Wilbur’s survey was brilliant and once they get back to the ship, he says so out loud. Then he and the others debriefs with Captain Halsson, giving all the details they found out.

Turn and Burn at Amnok (Departure)

The Azure Voyager does not linger.

Final fuel checks return green across the board. Stores are secured. Data packets from port control finish syncing and vanish from the system buffer the moment they’re acknowledged. Whatever Amnok needed to know, it now knows—and no more.

Docking clamps release with a dull, resonant thud.

Lift and Clearance

Amnok Star Lane Control comes up on the traffic band almost immediately, voice clipped and precise.

"Azure Voyager, you are cleared for lift. Maintain vertical ascent to orbital positioning marker Delta-Seven. Time to lane merge: three-zero minutes. Confirm one-G profile."

Captain Halsson answers without looking away from the forward display.

"Azure Voyager confirms. One-G profile. Delta-Seven."

The ship rises cleanly from the highport cradle, city lights shrinking beneath sealed domes and industrial superstructure. No fanfare. No spectators. Amnok does not celebrate departures.

Orbital Positioning

Thirty minutes later, the Azure Voyager settles into orbital alignment. Traffic icons populate the nav plot: outbound freighters forming long, disciplined chains; inbound traffic peeling away toward assigned vectors. Continental Lines hulls dominate the lane markers—familiar shapes moving with the certainty of routine.

Star Lane Control again:

"Azure Voyager, traffic moderate. You are assigned Departure Lane Kilo-Four. Merge window opens in ninety seconds. Maintain vector and acceleration discipline."

A Perx-class scout crosses far off the port bow, transponder flaring briefly in acknowledgment before fading back into patrol silence.

Into the Lane

The Azure Voyager slides into Kilo-Four with practiced ease. Acceleration settles at one Gee, the steady push familiar to every soul aboard. The lane stretches ahead like a disciplined river of light and motion, all of it flowing outward—away from Amnok, away from its bleak dependence and careful order.

"Azure Voyager, lane merge complete. You are clear to proceed to jump point. Estimated time to jump point: two hours, five-one minutes, three-zero seconds. Safe transit."

"Copy, Amnok Control. Azure Voyager out."

The channel closes. The lane holds.The Ironhand team secure themselves into the positions for the last thirty minutes prior to jump.

Bridge

At the nav station, Edrin Mallor is already deep into the solution, ghosting projected vectors with practiced precision. Halsson looks over at him.

"Walk me through your refinements."

Edrin brings up a secondary overlay—subtle adjustments layered atop the standard jump solution.

Edrin Mallor: "Base solution is clean, but I’ve trimmed the entry vector by point-zero-three degrees. There’s a mild gravitic shear from the binary star system. Nothing dangerous, but I’d rather not let the bubble work harder than it has to."

Halsson studies the plot.

"Agreed. Jump space forgives nothing you don’t have to do."

Edrin allows himself a small smile.
"I’ve also compensated for the star’s spectral output here. F-type primaries like this one tend to introduce just enough noise into long-haul calculations to matter if you ignore them."

She glances at him sideways.
"You’re anticipating error instead of correcting it. Good habit."

She taps the display once.
"Confirm destination parameters for the record."

Edrin Mallor, "Jump destination locked: Tulsi Das System. Entry point clear of major bodies. No known traffic congestion. Jump duration nominal."

A quiet beat passes as the numbers settle.
"Then we’ll take your solution. Keep monitoring until the last second—if the universe wants to be clever, it usually waits until then."

"Aye, Captain."

Captain Halsson finally exhales—just slightly.

"All hands, we are committed. Maintain jump prep schedule. Engineering, keep it tight."
The light dim on the ship, the Azure Voyager burns slows the vessel to the jump point waiting ahead— Halsson flips the ships as the accelleration drift is still moving a little forward at point zero, zero five Gees.

Halsson taps the console to initiate the jump. There is a slight lurch in everyone's stomach as time and space expands and then contracts as they enter jump space fold. In Jump space it is smooth and it is quite except for the hum at the ship plates at the surface skin. gone is Amnok the Azure Voyager is off to the next answer.

While the others are talking Virel is paying more attention to others around who may hear the conversation and questions, judging reactions to the questions and anything that might seem out of the ordinary.

Bohdie has used the time in J-Space, not only to work on his Carousing but also in contemplative thought. He considers Ghar and Hrut’s previous crossings. He wonders if what drove Ghar out here is the same as what drove Hrut to shut down business and wonders what kind of gamble it might be if Hrut were to reappear.

When the team debriefs with the Captain and Crew, Chaala observes, "If our wayward colleagues jumped straight from here to Tulsi Das, they weren't following the same course we're not following. That is to say, they burned top speed for their destination despite the course we're told they were on. It does leave open the question of who lied to who and when. Doesn't change my mind about the current plan."

Wilbur’s first reflex is to run a full analysis of the survey data. Not just the Harrier’s trail—he reviews all regional traffic to build a proper situational picture. Old Marine habits die hard, and the Scouts never discouraged them.

Like Bohdie, he spends time with the crew, using the right Scout idioms and shipboard slang. Not to show off, but to build rapport. While he talks, he watches: how the crew interact, how they respond to their captain, how they handle routine tasks. He keeps quiet notes on everyone—not for gossip, but because knowing people is part of staying alive.

He was a solid officer once, leading by example and anticipating what his unit needed before they asked. His Marines respected that, and when things went bad, they always pushed that extra mile for him. The habit stayed. Even here, among people he doesn’t command, he keeps the same discipline. Situations change fast; when they do, trust and familiarity are worth more than armor.

After checking in with his own team, he waits for a calm moment and approaches the Captain.
"Captain Halsson, I’ve identified some irregularities in the data we received from that merchant vessel. According to their report, the ISS Harrier was already at least four weeks behind schedule when she reached Lothan.

I didn’t pay much attention to it at the time, but do you recall which week the Trooles Naval ships reported seeing her on track and on time?"
I edited the post.

Since leaving home, Ruiha had spent most of her time in space, so it felt nice to be on a ship again. The gravity was still too high, and the ceiling too short, but that was something she'd gotten used to throughout the years.

With Jump time to kill, she spent her time cramming information she needed, along with getting to know the crew (those who wanted). And whilst Scout were generally chill about the chain of command and the like, she waited until she got an invite to the bridge, as much as she wanted to see one again.

When not conversing with the crew and members of the team Virel, under the assumption they will get all the way to Marinagua, is researching everything within the data banks of Marinagua particularly culture, politics and surface geography. Essentially, using his diplomatic experience getting ready for a new assignment.

@dabaggins Digging through the data banks, being on the Scout vessel Virel hits on .....dice roll please.....

EDITED:

If anyone assists Virel, say with computer skill, Admin or Investigate on top of a computer skilled individual, they can also roll. (Chaala, JEEM, Bohdie and Dr. Shone). @Stalker05,@Bullseyepsa,@Dominic,@Packratt66

Chaala will put in some time as well, focusing on linguistics and known conflicts.

Bohdie quietly backs away from the terminal and, while Dr. Shone performs his bit of technomancy, disappears to parts unknown. Only later did anyone realize that nobody even noticed the 7 foot tall space elf had even moved… and if it hadn’t been for the fracking error message, it’s doubtful anyone would have even paid enough attention to him to notice he was there.

Meanwhile, Bohdie felt an immediate need to be elsewhere, wherever that might be, to be alone. This couldn’t possibly be that damneded curse again, he felt like his brain was about to explode…. He took a small,folded paper from a zippered pouch/pocket and, unfolding one end, he let the fine powder slide down, gathering in the space under his tongue. I’m running on fumes and my head is pounding. Perhaps some rack time and a meal would end up more beneficial than continuing with a half baked idea and a frazzled brainpan.

Virel watches Bohdie’s well-intentioned intervention without comment. Internally, there is a familiar flicker of irritation but it never reaches his face. When Dr. Shone’s code restores the interface, Virel inclines his head once in quiet acknowledgment, accepting the fix without remark. He turns back to the console immediately, focus narrowing as his fingers resume their careful work, intent now on seeing what the system is still willing to reveal.

The story continues with the team (the entire team to include the tall Bohdie who came back and Equally tall Ruiha) leaning over the terminal display as everyone helps dig through the files that Virel found in the ISS Azure Voyager data bank information system. Virel digs a bit further and finds a thread of a report on Marinagua with what looks like Junior Administrator Silva Dominicus notes:



1. System Overview
Primary: The star of this system is a A0 V, white main sequence star.
Mainworld: Marinagua (Orbit 4) and distance from star is 1.3 AU.
Other Worlds:

Asteroid Belt: Present between orbits 6–7
Gas Giants: Two major bodies with multiple moons
Scout Service Note: The Marinagua system supports extensive subplanetary bodies suitable for future outposts, with the Marinagua main world holding primary habitation and survey value.
Jr. Administrator Dominicus Note: - need to double check this data. Unmanned IISS probe databank from 1102 found data that suggests not 10 worlds but 9.

2. Planetary Data: Marinagua
UWP: A675930-9
Starport: Class A Starport includes refined fuel for starships, brokerage services for passengers and cargo, and a variety of ship provisions. There is a shipyard capable of doing annual maintenance, overhauls and other kinds of repair.
Diameter: 9,338 km (0.69G surface gravity)
Atmosphere: Originally reported Corrosive in 1075.
Hydrosphere: 52% surface coverage; extensive marshlands
Climate: Mild temperate (mean 11°C; day 20°C; night −8°C)
Population: Approx. 3 billion (est., 1075 census)
Government Type: Self-Perpetuating Oligarchy
[f=large bold] 0 (open commerce, local enforcement only)
Tech Level: 9 (limited offworld integration, light industrial base)
Primary Industries: Agriculture, mining, light manufacturing

Scout Service Note: Most urban centers are located along temperate coastlines. Interior plateaus are sparsely settled due to marsh and flood zones.
Jr. Administrator Dominicus Note: need to double check this data. Unmanned IISS probe databank from 1102 found data that suggests the data on the world of Marinagua is incorrect and it has a tainted atmosphere of Ox/Ni content and not a corrosive.

3. Sociopolitical Overview
The last recorded planetary administration was centered in Derlack Monwa, the planetary capital and seat of the "High Steward’s Council."
Marinagua is governed by Self-Perpetuating Oligarchy. A single family or small group provides leadership and important positions in the government. These positions are inherited by members of the group or their family members. The organization may be a monarchy, with titles passed to family members, or a plutocracy where inheritance of the family fortune includes government position. Alternatively, the organization may be a more typical government apparatus, only with positions of power inherited.

Rulership of Marinagua is hereditary but carries little power. The Rulers spend their lives in self-sufficient, fortified palaces. The greatest of these is Derlack Monwa (the Palace of Wealth), a massive edifice that was both the palace and tomb for the wealthiest Alejia in history, Baberbren.

Population Structure:

• Urban Coastlines: Industrial and administrative hubs
• Highland Regions: Agricultural communes and tribal settlements
• Equatorial Belt: Uninhabitable wetlands and thermal marshes

Scout Service Note: Civil organization appears stable and cooperative between the city-states and highland clans, though local traditions are deeply entrenched and ceremonial.

4. Native Life and Civilization
Marinagua’s native sophonts—the Alejia—are classified as Humanoid Variant B under Scout Service Xenological Record 3A–12.
They possess dense dermal fuzz rather than body hair and utilize piercings and scarification as traditional displays of status, allegiance, and adulthood.

Cultural Overview:

• Tribal and clan-based hierarchies led by a Kārihlan’ka (Chief)
• Spiritual system venerating celestial phenomena ("Star Veneration")
• Formal etiquette in trade and diplomacy
• Intertribal council held in Balac Pontli

Scout Service Note: Though classed as pre-spacefaring, the Alejia demonstrate advanced metallurgy, agriculture, and architecture consistent with early TL 8-9 levels.

5. Linguistic Extract: Alejia Terms
K’áhnohtli – Monarch / High Ruler
Kārihlan’ka – Tribal Chief
Kahó-lóhkai – War Party
Wiyá'hka – Tribe Name
T’ohka’li – Bureaucratic Caste
T’ahkóli – Trade Faction
Xóó-shim’ii – Religious Order
Balac Pontli – Capital City

Jr. Administrator Dominicus Note: Linguistic analysis incomplete; regional dialects diverse; transcription approximated via Imperial phonetics.

6. Security and Interstellar Relations
At the time of the last survey, Marinagua reported no active military hostilities and maintained peaceful relations with nearby polities within the Verstand–Jugartha Colonies. Records from the 1075 IISS mission note no Jaibok raiding activity during the observation period.

The planet’s own defense forces were estimated at approximately 200 million uniformed personnel, supported by locally maintained nuclear-equipped assets and auxiliary militias organized under the authority of the nine Oligarchic factions that share political control of the world.
Each faction maintains its own standing army, though coordination between them appears limited.

Jr. Administrator Dominicus Note: We need to confirm the veracity of the report is still true that No Jansa or Jaibok presence detected in system. Occasional merchant vessels recorded operating under Verstand–Jugartha Colony charter, conducting limited trade and courier functions.

While Marinagua lies several subsectors and many parsecs distant from the Trooles Confederation, its closest regular contact is with the Verstand–Jugartha Colonies, located one subsector coreward.
Naval patrols or convoy escorts from those colonies are known to visit the Borealis Kantel Sub-Sector only rarely.

The primary extra-Imperial power of note within the Theta Borealis Sector is the Korsumug Empire, located roughly 14–17 parsecs distant. Although the Third Imperium and its Scout Service continue to monitor potential Zhodani expansion, the Zhodani Consulate itself lies over 121 parsecs coreward, well beyond any current operational concern for Marinagua.

7. Administrative Notes
Last Confirmed Scout Mission: 1075 (Team Theta-Borealis/19)
Scheduled Revisit: 1116 (Silvia Dominicus, Jr. Administrator, Mission Lead)
Status: Pending Update (at the time of this report, over 30 weeks no contact)
Recommended Action: Dispatch Scout team to re-establish contact, confirm status of ISS Harrier and Jr. Admin Dominicus and her team's condition.

8. Summary Assessment
Marinagua was last assessed as stable, cooperative, and economically independent, with a strong cultural identity and minimal offworld interference. However, the 40-year data gap renders this assessment unreliable for current operations.

Scout Service Advisement: Proceed under Low-Visibility Protocol (Alpha) — maintain non-disruptive contact and limit exposure until situational assessment confirmed. Overt military engagement is prohibited. Adhere to the IISS Operational Restrictions and Escalation Protocols Theta Borealis Sector.

Current Assessment
Risk Level: Amber, with potential escalation to Beta if hostilities are confirmed.
Primary Objective: Locate and recover IISS personnel.
Secondary Objective: Assess Alejia civilization’s true technological and military status.
Tertiary Objective: Correct and update planetary survey data, atmospheric and historical data.

Appendix Theta: IISS Operational Restrictions and Escalation Protocols Theta Borealis Sector Addendum to Scout Service Standing Orders remain in effect.

Issued By: Theta Borealis Sector Command, Office of Scout Operations
________________________________________
Electronically Signed: Commander Harlan Mervik (IISS)

---

Doctor Shone speaks first, "Well that is interesting, an IISS unmanned ship in operation?"

He then points to another undecipherable log entry containing a report on the Niparoo Trading Company activity in the Theta Borealis Sector. When the link is selected the following report is displayed.

---

IMPERIAL INTERSTELLAR SCOUT SERVICE]
Sector Intelligence Division – Theta Borealis
REPORT CLASSIFICATION: IISS CONFIDENTIAL
Distribution: Restricted – IISS Command, Imperial Diplomatic Liaison, Naval Intelligence (Eyes Only)

---

SUBJECT
Emergent Niparoo Trading Company Activity in Pre-Stellar Systems and Anomalous Presence in the Marinagua System

---

EXECUTIVE SUMMARY (BLUF)

Recent IISS survey reviews and traffic audits have confirmed the presence of Niparoo Trading Company–constructed starport facilities across multiple pre-stellar worlds in the Theta Borealis region and adjacent routes. These installations are uniformly Class C or lower, externally compliant with local technological baselines, and support limited orbital and interplanetary trade.

The following systems have been positively identified:

• Wedton — UWP C775535-7
• Lagel — UWP D662854-2
• Winslow — UWP C996440-5
• Sunda — UWP DAA5664-8
• Manlowe — UWP E562202-7
• Marinagua — anomalous case (see Section IV)

This pattern aligns with an emerging but poorly documented Niparoo commercial doctrine favoring pre-jump or pre-interstellar societies with exploitable natural resources. However, Marinagua, a TL-9 system-capable world, does not conform to this model, warranting immediate analytical and field follow-up.

At present, Niparoo political or economic intent regarding the expansion of the Korsumug Empire remains unknown.

---

I. BACKGROUND: THE NIPAROO CONTEXT

The Niparoo homeworld (UWP A8A49B8-C) is an industrial, high-population fluidic world with advanced manufacturing capacity, naval infrastructure, and TL-12 capabilities. Niparoo interests operate as nominally non-aligned, with extensive private-sector shipbuilding and logistics networks.

While central Niparoo state policy remains opaque, its trading companies function with notable autonomy and long planning horizons.

---

II. OBSERVED PATTERN: PRE-STELLAR ENGAGEMENTS

Common Characteristics Across Confirmed Worlds:

• Indigenous societies assessed as pre-jump or non-interstellar
• Abundant or under-exploited raw resources
• Limited planetary infrastructure compatible with C-grade or frontier starports
• No evidence of formal Niparoo sovereignty claims
• Minimal overt military presence

Assessment:
The construction style, logistics flow, and legal framing suggest commercial beachhead operations rather than colonial annexation. Installations are sufficient to enable controlled export of raw materials, selective technological uplift, and long-term economic dependency without overt political control.

---

III. SYSTEM-BY-SYSTEM NOTES (SUMMARY)

• Wedton: Resource extraction hub; orbital traffic tightly scheduled.
• Lagel: Surface-based port with minimal orbital support; long-term geological survey indicators present.
• Winslow: Maritime-heavy trade focus; Niparoo cargo handling dominates offworld exports.
• Sunda: Dispersed port architecture; probable bio-resource exploitation.
• Manlowe: Rudimentary facilities; likely speculative claim or reserve site.

All five conform to the expected Niparoo pre-stellar engagement profile.

---

IV. THE MARINAGUA ANOMALY

Marinagua diverges sharply from the above pattern:

• Indigenous system travel capability (TL-9)
• Active interplanetary operations
• Independent political structures
• No clear technological dependency

Preliminary Hypotheses:

• Strategic Geography: Corridor or staging value within Theta Borealis routes
• Political Leverage: Engagement with a system-capable society as an influence test case
• Pre-Korsumug Positioning: Asset placement ahead of potential geopolitical friction
• Corporate Autonomy: Trading companies acting beyond or ahead of Niparoo state policy

No direct evidence links Marinagua operations to military or intelligence preparations at this time. Deviation from established Niparoo behavior elevates concern.

---

V. IMPLICATIONS REGARDING THE KORSUMUG EMPIRE

IISS analysts assess that Niparoo reactions to Korsumug expansion remain untested. Current indicators suggest:

• Risk-averse positioning
• Preference for economic leverage over confrontation
• Avoidance of formal alliances or declared opposition

Whether Niparoo trading companies act as precursors to state policy or independent economic actors remains unresolved.

---

VI. RECOMMENDATIONS

• Upgrade Marinagua to Active Observation Status (AOS)
• Deploy IISS commercial liaison teams to Niparoo-linked ports
• Conduct cross-sector comparison of Niparoo installations
• Coordinate with Naval Intelligence on Korsumug expansion routes
• Maintain diplomatic neutrality pending clearer Niparoo signaling

---

VII. CONFIDENCE LEVEL

MODERATE
Data consistency is high across surveyed systems; Niparoo internal intent remains inferential.

---

Report Filed By: IISS Sector Analysis Cell, Theta Borealis
Authentication Code: IISS-TB-CONF-7721-NPTC
Classification: IISS CONFIDENTIAL

"Fascinating. This looks very similar to developments and conditions around Arden in the buildup to the Fifth Frontier War," Bohdie says quietly. Under his breath he whispers, "Rokghiok Zoukhin, did you see this coming?" deep in concentration, he says to himself, "Did I? Hrut?"

"Certainly seems like someone might have wanted to check on it in less than 40 years. Hopefully the situation on the ground didn't get so bad that it swallowed up the Scout team." Chaala muses. "Speaking of which, how exactly where they planning a Low Visibility Protocol on a planet mostly populated by unfamiliar fuzzies."

Journey to the Tulsi Das System

The remaining 119 hours of Jump pass with a steady rhythm that feels almost routine now—study, quiet conversation, and the hum of the Azure Voyager holding together against unreality.

Reports circulate from hand to hand. They are read, reread, annotated, and quietly set aside again.

Chaala continues her steady work alongside Amara, the two of them falling into an easy cadence—technical questions answered with patience, corrections made without judgment.

Ruiha spends long stretches with Edrin, getting to know him properly now, not as a duty station assignment but as a person.

Bohdie and Wilber take over much of the person-to-person planning: schedules, morale activities, small things that make life aboard a courier survivable. Amara, noticeably relieved, lets them run with it.

Virel is rarely seen at all. When he is, it is only in passing—quiet, observant. With discreet assistance from Dr. Shone and fragments contributed by others, he mirrors the two reports and studies them line by line.

JEEM, Virel, Wilber, Bohdie and Chaala compare notes once, briefly. The conclusion is unanimous and unsatisfying: the reports reveal little more than what was already suspected.

No one volunteers to dig deeper into the databanks. Not after the incident. The silence on that subject is unanimous.

Jump Exit — Hour 168

Ruiha and Edrin have the bridge watch when the first familiar indicators appear. Subtle at first—numbers drifting where they shouldn’t, tolerances narrowing.

Jump bubble integrity begins to decay.

Edrin calls it out softly. Ruiha reaches for the control without hesitation and arms the announcement protocol.

They strap in.

The ship’s voice fills the corridors, calm and mechanical:

"Jump exit in approximately ten minutes. Secure loose equipment and personal possessions. Proceed to designated stations and strap in."

Crew members secure stations across the ship. Harnesses lock. Loose items are stowed.

Then—without drama, without warning—

The Jump bubble collapses, and the IISS Azure Voyager snaps back into normal space. Almost immediately, the sensor picture resolves.
Binary stars.


Blue-white, bright, close enough to paint the system in sharp light. Traffic. More than expected—multiple transponder returns already moving through local lanes.

Ruiha begins helping Edrin work the board when the Side door to the Captain's cabin opens to the port side. Captain Deyra Halsson steps onto the bridge, already reading the displays.

"Okay," she starts, "Tulsi Control should be con—"

The console chimes sharply. An incoming transmission punches through, crisp and formal, the accent unmistakable:

"Unidentified ship, this is the Ardent, Tulsi Das Space Defense. Request IFF codes. Identify yourself and state your purpose here."

Captain Halsson doesn’t miss a beat.

"This is the IISS Courier Azure Voyager, on a courier mission. Requesting port entrance into the Tulsi Das system."

IFF codes exchange. Questions follow. Clarifications. A professional back-and-forth measured in minutes, not seconds.

Finally:

"Acknowledged, Azure Voyager. Clearance granted. Welcome to Tulsi Das. Safe journey to the starport."

Approach

Tulsi Das orbits Tulsi Das Prime, the fourth planet in the system.

Three hours to align and settle into orbit. Thirty minutes from there to the downport.

Traffic reports come through with the final exchange:
Sixteen merchant vessels currently in system. Twelve planetside.

System Brief: Tulsi Das

UWP: C786552-9
Location: Corelian Subsector, Theta Borealis Sector
Allegiance: Non-Aligned
Population: ~600,000 (rapid growth)

World Overview: Tulsi Das is a tropical garden world with high temperatures and dense atmosphere. Life is abundant and well-established, supporting large-scale agriculture with minimal environmental stress. Despite this, the population remains too small—and infrastructure too limited—for the world to reach true economic maturity. The planet is widely regarded as pleasant, even utopian, for those who can afford imported technology.

Government & Law: Tulsi Das is governed as a Feudal Technocracy, a system in which authority flows from technical necessity rather than lineage or popular mandate. Essential societal functions—agriculture, energy production, transport logistics, communications, and security—are each controlled as fiefs, granted to individuals or institutions responsible for maintaining those systems. Political power is therefore fragmented but stable, with legitimacy derived from continued competence rather than ideology. Failures are not debated; they are replaced.

The world maintains a low formal law level, with only a narrow set of statutes covering matters deemed critical to societal function. Law enforcement is sparse and largely reactive, relying on citizens or guild authorities to bring offenders forward. Judicial proceedings are swift and informal, often resolved by a small number of officials with broad discretion. Outside these limited legal frameworks, cultural norms and local authority dominate, and misunderstandings—especially involving offworlders—can escalate quickly. Portable energy weapons, explosives, and other high-risk armaments are strictly regulated, though enforcement varies widely by district and circumstance.

Economy & Trade : Tulsi Das is an agricultural, non-industrial world whose economy is built around the large-scale production of high-quality foodstuffs. Its climate and biosphere allow for efficient cultivation of plant and animal products, many of which are exported to nearby systems. These exports form the backbone of the planetary economy and provide steady, if unspectacular, trade revenue.

Despite this productivity, Tulsi Das remains heavily dependent on imports of manufactured and high-technology goods. Advanced machinery, electronics, starship components, and specialized tools must all be brought in from offworld, driving up costs and creating chronic supply vulnerabilities. Infrastructure is limited and economic efficiency remains poor, but both population and output are growing rapidly, and living conditions are expected to improve so long as external pressures—political, military, or commercial—do not disrupt the planet’s fragile upward trajectory.

Starport : Tulsi Das operates a Class C downport, adequate but unremarkable. The port provides unrefined fuel and supports basic ship maintenance and routine repairs, sufficient to keep merchant traffic moving but ill-suited for major overhauls or refits. Brokerage and passenger services exist in a limited capacity, often informal and dependent on local contacts rather than standardized port authority systems. There is no highport in orbit; all traffic is handled planetside, contributing to congestion and the rough reputation of the startown districts.

System Notes: Tulsi Das is a binary star system, illuminated by two blue-white A-type main-sequence stars whose combined output gives the system a harsh, brilliant light. Beyond the mainworld, the system includes seven secondary rocky worlds, two planetoid belts, and a single gas giant, all fully surveyed but only lightly exploited. The mainworld itself occupies the inner, warmer region of the habitable zone, receiving higher stellar energy and driving its hot, tropical climate. The Gravity (G) on the world is 0.75 Gee of Sol standard. A bit heavier for Bohdie and Ruiha, but more manageable than Pautho's gravity.

Cultural Snapshot: Tulsi Das society is highly homogeneous, with a shared worldview shaped by agriculture, technical specialization, and long-standing functional hierarchies. Outsiders are generally tolerated rather than welcomed; interactions are polite but distant, and trust is slow to develop. Culturally, the world is unremarkable at first glance, with few behaviors that appear overtly strange to offworlders. Authority, ownership, and social roles are expressed through concrete, visible symbols—badges, markings, land claims, and technical insignia—leaving little ambiguity about who controls what, and why.

Captain Halsson enters down from the command deck through the left tot he crew level and enters the lough area where the team is at.

"We’re refueling and replenishing only. Six-hour turn."

Her expression hardens just slightly.

"I want three of the Iron Hand team planetside. No more."

She gestures at the display, the rough outlines of the world rotating slowly.

"This is a rough planet. Rough startown. Low law level. Fights break out here all the time. We do not have time to bail you out of jail because of a misunderstanding."

A pause.

"Three hours tops."

Her eyes settle on Chaala.

"Chaala—your team planning, but I want JEEM to stay here. If your team planetside needs help, I want contingency planning already done."

Then, softer—but no less firm:

"Let’s keep this one clean."

Captain Halsson brings up her hand terminal and pulls up something on her display and then with a hand motion of a flick out to youm she sends everyone some notes she has from her visit from last year:

• Startown disputes resolved by fists before courts
• Agricultural guild rivalries
• Feudal technocrats competing for imported tech contracts
• Merchant crews stuck waiting on overpriced replacement parts

Those were my rough notes from last year"

She looks to the team members and finishes with Chaala before asking everyone
"Any Questions?"

"You heard the Captain. Three down, the rest on standby. Bhodie, Virel, this is in your wheelhouse. Pick a third or take a volunteer. I'll stay behind with Jeem and the crew ready to pull you out of need be." She pauses, "I doubt you'll need it."

Wilbur steps forward, posture straightening.

"I volunteer. Former Marine Commander, Meritorious Conduct Under Fire.
I’ll admit I’m… surprised none of you thought to call on me."

Virel listens without comment as the Captain lays out the parameters, then shifts his attention to Chaala. At her decision, he gives a small, deliberate nod, an acknowledgment and acceptance in equal measure.

When Wilbur steps forward, Virel’s gaze flicks to him briefly. The pause lasts only a heartbeat before the diplomat surfaces. He allows himself a faint, practiced smile.

"Good to have you."

"Done. Rules of engagement are clear, no engagement except talking unless absolutely necessary. If things escalate, extract with the minimum force possible but if it's one of theirs or one of ours, I expect you all back on the ship. Keep us posted as quietly as possible."

Survey kit stowed, blade tucked. Wilbur holds position at the airlock, calm and ready for the team’s move into the starport.

The story continues,

The downport is loud, humid, and crowded in the way only a Class C facility can be. Cargo handlers move fast, voices raised over machinery and heat shimmer, while ships cycle fuel and pallets under the watchful eyes of understaffed port personnel.

The ISS Azure Voyager sits on a landing pad, Captain Halsson and Amara talk to the port authorities that came out, she hands then something that looks like an old school large Envelope. The Port Authority manager, or what appears to be a manager just tucks the envelope into his jacket and waves over some stevedores over who hurriedly hook up lines and cabling to the Azure Voyager.

Captain Halsson looks at Virel, Bohdie and Wilber and indicates with a hand wave it is okay to proceed away from the ship.

The landing pad to their right sits a ship, clearly marked with her name 'Sunfall Drift', a small orbital carrier that is in the process of having a container being slowly maneuvered underneath the ship's belly for attachment. The landing pad to the left is empty.

Someone suggests they talk to the ship at the pad. Or someone just started to move in that direct and all three of you went.

The Sunfall Drift sits on the neighboring pad, its hull marked for short-range charter work. Pilot Esha Linn is leaning against the access ladder, relaxed and chatty, while Loadmaster Korrin Bale oversees cargo movement with a quiet, watchful presence.

Esha is friendly enough, especially with offworlders, and doesn’t mind talking while the transfer runs.

She remembers the Harrier—sort of.

"Scout ship, right? Not a trader. Didn’t look like a Free Trader or anything running cargo. Clean lines. Quiet. Didn’t stay long."

Korrin adds nothing, but nods once in agreement.

Neither of them knows the destination, the crew, or the reason for the visit. Just that the ship was not Trooles, and not a Polygraham Shipping, Continental Lines, nor Baylor-Ator Shipping Corporations vessels. Unmistakably official, and not part of the usual merchant traffic. It didn’t linger long enough to become gossip.

For them, that’s the end of it.

Actions? Comments? Questions? - where to next?

The Port terminal or the Starport lounges in the Terminal?

Another landing pad with another ship? A free Trader type?

Or over to the other side of the starport to the Polygraham Shipping private facilities?

Or over to the Tulsi Das Self Defense Force base that is diametrically on the other side of the starport from the private Polygraham Shipping?

Or do you avoid all of this and venture to Starport town just outside?

Just need a bit of direction where the Three Amigos are headed.

Wilbur smiles to Esha, pen moving lightly over the survey.

"You’ve seen the Harrier? I know her captain. Any chance you remember when that was, or the direction she took? Could be we run into her again."

After Wilber asked the question, Esha Linn chuckles softly and lifts her hands in a small, apologetic shrug.

"Sorry, I wish I could help you more than that. I remember the ship because it was IISS and didn’t fit the usual trader profile—but that’s about it. No idea on her outbound vector, and I didn’t clock the timing closely enough to pin it down."

She nods toward the control tower rising above the downport.

"If anyone’s got that data, it’d be Port Authority Control. Flight plans, traffic logs, jump timestamps—if the Harrier filed clean, they’ll have a record. Whether they share it without paperwork is another question."

A faint, knowing smile.

"But that’s where I’d start."

EDIT - everyone can help, through comms dots, not just the 3 PCs out trying to find information, etc.

To help and hopefully not insult, here are some skill sets that may come into play

• Admin — Knowing that Scout traffic is logged differently and asking the right narrow question
• Diplomat / Persuade — Leaning into curiosity rather than authority
• Streetwise — Reading whether this port is welcoming or defensive before pressing
• Advocate — Framing the request as confirmation, not disclosure
• Deception — Offering a harmless reason ("old colleague," "missed rendezvous")
• Carouse (prior setup) — If the officer has already seen the PCs around town behaving normally

Bohdie listens to the Sunfall Drift’s crew and nods. He determined to check with the various officials. He’ll use his Admin background to figure out the right people to talk to and how. Then he’ll work some angles to try to convince them to give him the information. "I'm looking for my nephew. I have an important dispatch regarding his uncle, His Grace, Sir Carraday Lowthe."


Rolls:
*Admin+2, EDU+2
*Deceive+2, INT+2

Our story continues

Esha Linn blinks once when Bohdie mentions "His Grace, Sir Carraday Lowthe." The name clearly doesn’t land the way it might in Imperial space.

"Right… okay," she says slowly, not skeptical so much as unfamiliar. "I don’t know anything about titles or offworld royalty. Closest thing we’ve got around here is Peladon, and that's so far away as not being real. You know?"

She glances briefly toward the control tower, then back to Bohdie.

"But if you’re trying to track a ship—and you think it came through here—crews like us won’t have much more than impressions."

She hooks a thumb toward the concourse.

"Starport Authority. Flight Services Station. That’s where arrivals and departures get logged. If the ship filed clean, they’ll have a record. Timing, clearance, maybe docking duration."

Her tone is practical, almost helpful-by-default.

"They don’t see many IISS ships in this sector. If one showed up, they probably remember it. Just… don’t expect anyone there to care about titles. They’ll care about why you’re asking."

A small, encouraging nod.

"Start there."

The Tulsi Das Starport Authority
Flight Services Station — Downport Level

The Flight Services Station sits just off the main concourse, separated from the noise of the downport by a wide glass frontage and a soft environmental seal. The air inside is cooler and drier, carrying the faint scent of recycled air and hot electronics. Overhead, flat-panel displays scroll arrivals, departures, and traffic advisories, the text lagging just a fraction of a second behind real time.

The space is functional rather than welcoming—this is an office built to process, not to host.

A long counter runs the length of the room, broken into three service positions. Behind it, a mix of uniformed staff and contractors work through traffic logs, clearances, and maintenance requests. None of them look rushed, but all of them look busy.

As Bohdie, Wilber, and Virel step inside, a few heads lift—not suspiciously, but with mild curiosity. Offworlders aren’t rare, but unfamiliar faces still register.

They have options.

---

Visible Personnel

An individual at the Center Counter
A mid-career officer in Starport Authority uniform stands at the central terminal, posture straight, expression neutral but attentive. This is clearly the primary public-facing position—the one meant to absorb questions and decide which ones go any further. A traffic slate floats at her shoulder, cycling through clearance codes and time stamps.

She notices the team immediately and gives a small, professional nod.

An Individual at the Rear Workstation
Off to the side, partially shielded by a data partition, a civilian clerk scrolls through historical logs on a large embedded display. His uniform is utilitarian, his posture slightly slouched—the look of someone who deals with old data more than live traffic. He glances up briefly, then returns to his screen.

An individual standing near the wall
Near the far wall stands a security liaison—armband badge visible, posture relaxed but watchful. She isn’t engaged with anyone directly, but her eyes track movement in and out of the office. She represents oversight, not intervention—for now. She doesn’t approach. She observes.

An individual at the side terminal
At a side terminal, a younger tech works through a maintenance queue, muttering softly to himself as he reconciles sensor feeds with docking schedules. He looks over when the door opens, curious, then pointedly pretends not to stare.

The Moment

For a few seconds, no one speaks. The hum of equipment fills the space. A departure chime sounds softly overhead. This is the point where how the team moves matters as much as what they ask.

Actions?

To assist the players here are some skill sets that may come into play

Admin — Identifying the correct authority and framing requests properly
Diplomat / Liaison — Professional tone, cultural awareness, soft influence
Deception — Plausible personal motives without triggering suspicion
Streetwise — Reading who actually controls information versus who appears to
Advocate — Leveraging process, precedent, and "confirmation only" requests
Recon — Noticing who watches, who listens, and who avoids eye contact
Carouse (earlier setup) — Familiarity breeds cooperation
Electronics (Computers) — Understanding what data exists versus what is visible

"Might want to split up for this one. Sounds like the security guard is on 'observe and report' but she might have insights the official channel's won't share. Whichever of you wants to play bodyguards sharing a moment."

Wilbur steps into the port authority office and gives the room a warm nod.
"Good day, folks."

He walks toward the young man at the side terminal, offering a friendly smile — the kind older Scouts use when they want people to relax.
"Afternoon, son. Name’s Wilbur Haines. Used to be with the Scout Service, though these days I mostly wander where the wind takes me."

He chuckles softly, as if amused by his own aimlessness.
"I heard an old friend of mine passed through here not too long ago. Haven’t seen her in years. She’s serving aboard the ISS Harriet now."

He leans in slightly, lowering his voice in a conspiratorial, almost grandfatherly way.
"Figured if I was lucky, I might catch her for a drink before she ships out again. You wouldn’t happen to know when her crew last touched down, would you?"

His tone stays light, almost wistful.

From the ship, following various approaches, Jeem makes a few inquiries of his own about the data lines...

First of all, it is important to understand the processes here, the various people who can make a difference, and the hierarchical relationships. This should make it easier to ask questions, as it will be possible to avoid one or two detours.

Bohdie's experiences so far have led him to place the enquiries within a legal framework that works less with questions and more with assumptions and confirmations.

Wilber — Flight Services Station, Side Terminal

The junior tech at the side terminal looks up as Wilber approaches, curiosity winning out over caution.

At the mention of the Scout Service, his brow furrows—not suspiciously, but in mild confusion.

"Scout Service?" he repeats. "You mean… like Trooles Reconnaissance Command?"

He gives a small, sheepish smile.

"We don’t really have Scouts out here. Closest thing we see is TRC survey craft or system patrols. I mostly know about them from reports—or old tri-vid serial shows."

He chuckles, a little embarrassed.

"You know, the Jelmiri Marches stuff. Before the fall in 1105. Scouts and heroes and all that, fighting the Jaibok Korsumug Empire."

He shrugs.

"So if you’re talking about an IISS ship, I’d have to look it up. We don’t get many of those."

As he turns back to his terminal and begins pulling up historical traffic logs, Wilber notices something important:

From the rear workstation, the older records clerk has looked up. Not alarmed. Not hostile.

Just… interested.

The kind of interest that says someone just touched a real data thread.

The junior tech doesn’t have the answer—but Wilber’s question has quietly signaled to the room that this isn’t idle curiosity..

Parallel Actions — Tulsi Das Starport Authority

JEEM — Aboard the Azure Voyager

From the ship, JEEM works the problem the long way around—not by chasing answers, but by understanding how answers move.

His attempt to map the formal hierarchy of Tulsi Das Starport Authority traffic control turns up frustratingly little. Titles are inconsistent, responsibilities overlap, and authority here is more functional than structural. There is no clean org chart to exploit—no single "right desk" guaranteed to produce results.

That path goes nowhere. GM Comment - results of the bad Admin skill roll

What does click is the legal framing.

JEEM realizes that in this system, information doesn’t move because someone is asked for it—it moves because someone is asked to confirm something that already sounds true.

Flight Services personnel aren’t trained to guard secrets; they’re trained to prevent liability. If an inquiry sounds like it’s part of a routine verification—especially one that assumes proper authority—they are far more likely to validate a fact than to disclose data outright.

GM - Does JEEM sends a message to the away team on this?

NOTE: Anyone on the ship can help. It is assumed that Chaala, Ruiha, And Dr. Shone are also monitoring and sharing informational displays

I know the player (@Packratt66) for Bohdie is dealing with some of the weather, so his responses maybe slow. The same maybe true for (@Dominic : Virel) may also be dealing with the weather so this maybe a bit slower than usual play.

Virel doesn’t approach the counter. He lets Wilbur take the lead, lingering instead near the edge of the room as if giving space rather than seeking it.

To anyone watching, he appears idle, another offworlder waiting his turn. In truth, his attention is everywhere but the terminal. He tracks posture shifts, delayed glances, the way eyes lift and settle when Wilbur mentions the Scout Service.

Who reacts. Who doesn’t. And who reacts a second too late.

Wilbur keeps his expression easy, as if nothing unusual has happened. He gives the young tech a small, apologetic smile.

"Ah — yes, the IISS. Old habits die hard, I suppose. But really, don’t trouble yourself if it’s buried in the logs. I was just hoping to catch up with an old friend if the stars lined up."

He chuckles softly, shaking his head.

"Knowing her, she’s probably already halfway to the next system anyway. So don’t let me pull you off your real work, son."

He stays where he is, relaxed, hands in his pockets, as if he’s simply making conversation and waiting to see whether the young man insists on helping.

Virel — Reading the Room (Streetwise Success)

Virel doesn’t need to step forward to understand what’s happening.

From the edge of the room, he watches the micro-movements—the things people don’t realize they’re doing when they think they’re being professional.

When Wilbur mentions the Scout Service, the junior tech reacts first. Not with alarm, but with confusion. His eyes lift too quickly, searching memory, then drift sideways to his terminal. He’s not hiding anything—he simply doesn’t have it. His knowledge of "Scouts" is secondhand at best, filtered through reports, holos, and old stories. Useful for atmosphere, not for answers.

The records clerk in the rear is more telling.

He doesn’t look up immediately. There’s a delay—just a second too long—then a measured glance over the partition. Not startled. Not suspicious. Curious. The kind of curiosity that comes from recognizing a category, not a name.
IISS traffic.
Rare. Logged differently. Memorable.

That’s the first real signal.

At the center console, the duty flight officer notices the junior tech searching when Wilbur asks his question. Her posture tightens slightly—professional irritation, not hostility. This is her desk, her authority, and someone just bypassed it.

But she doesn’t bristle.

Instead, she looks past Wilbur and sees Bohdie and Virel waiting in line, not crowding, not pushing. That matters here.

The irritation fades. Her expression resets into something warmer, practiced.

She straightens, smiles, and speaks—clear, audible, inviting the proper approach:

"Flight Services. How can I help you?" Directly to Virel and Bohdie

Virel clocks the balance immediately.

The junior tech is noise—friendly, earnest, limited

The records clerk is memory—quiet, procedural, valuable

The duty officer is the gate—annoyed when bypassed, cooperative when respected

And beneath it all, the bigger picture clicks into place.

Tulsi Das doesn’t see Imperial anything. No nobility. No titles. No cultural weight attached to the Imperium.

But an IISS ship?

That’s different.

That’s rare. That’s logged. That’s remembered.

If the Harrier came through this port—and Virel is now certain it did—then there will be a record. Not buried. Not erased. Just waiting behind the right tone, the right framing, and the right desk.

The room isn’t hostile.

It’s simply waiting to be addressed correctly.

Virel lets Wilbur finish, then steps forward towards the duty officer without hurry. His posture is open, hands visible: the manner of someone who understands desks and boundaries.

"Good morning. Apologies, my colleague got ahead of himself, chasing faces before paperwork."

He offers a brief, easy smile.

"We’re passing through on a short turnaround and just tying off a loose end before we move on."

His tone remains professional.

"We’re trying to confirm whether a survey scout vessel cleared this port within the last year or so. Imperial Scout Service registry, Telemon class. We don’t need cargo manifests or crew details. We just confirmation of arrival and departure timestamps, if they exist."GM EDIT and Comment - You forgot about the assistance by Chaala which her DM of +1 negates your EDU negative -1, so the end results = 9 Success!

Bohdie steps up to the counter, smiling in a disarming expression. Reading the room, He decides on a straight on approach. Despite his lumbering frame, Bohdie places his arms lightly on the counter and leans forward, not invading the desk clerk’s space, but providing a more informal stance. "Hi there. I was wondering if you could help me, here. I have an important parcel for a crew member on an IISS ship that, as I understand it, recently passed this way. I was wondering if someone here could tell me how long ago they may have departed here.". It’s not technically a lie and only barely a misdirection. But it’s, perhaps, the best direction. He keeps his eyes soft, searching to build a connection. "I understand there is likely a formal process for moto access this information, but I would prefer to keep this an informal request. I find it’s just more efficient this way."


Deception Roll: +2, INT+2, Chaala’s Help +1
Persuade Roll: +1, EDU+2 , Chaala’s Help +1

Flight Services Station — Confirmation

The duty officer listens without interrupting as Virel speaks. His phrasing lands well—measured, bounded, respectful of the desk and its limits. When he finishes, she gives a small nod. Not approval. Recognition.

Bohdie’s follow-on—parcel, crew member, informal efficiency—doesn’t offend her, but it doesn’t quite persuade either. She straightens slightly, reclaiming the center of the exchange.

"I can’t assist with informal requests," she says calmly. "And I can’t release operational details, crew identities, or destinations."

There’s no reprimand in her tone—just boundary.

But she doesn’t dismiss them.

She glances briefly toward the rear workstation. The records clerk meets her eye and gives a subtle nod of confirmation. Whatever this is, it exists. It’s logged. And it’s routine enough not to require escalation.

She returns her attention to the group.

"What I can do," she continues, "is confirm whether a vessel matching that description was recorded by this port, and when."

Her fingers move across the console. The display scrolls backward—weeks, months—until it stops.

"Yes," she says. "An Imperial Scout Service vessel, registry Harrier, Telemon-class, cleared this port."

She looks up, precise now.

"The ship arrived on Year 1115, Day 276. "A pause. Another flick of her fingers.

"It departed approximately ten hours later, after refueling and routine replenishment of life-support consumables and food stores. No cargo was embarked. No extended layover was requested."

She meets Virel’s eyes, then Bohdie’s.

"That is the extent of what Flight Services can confirm."

Her expression softens—not friendly, but professional.

"If you require anything further, you’ll need to pursue it through formal Tulsi Das Security channels."

She inclines her head slightly.

"Is there anything else I can help you with?"

Jeem radios to the way team a hopefully helpfully message:

"Guys, these are people here like civil servants. You have to argue in such a way that there are no risks for the processors, and ideally that these are even avoided, e.g. liability. A request for verification, in a matter-of-fact manner, as if this were a matter of course, is far more successful here than a simple request for help."

Our intrepid team gets back to the ISS Azure Voyager with thier information;

Departure from Tulsi Das

With confirmation secured, there’s nothing left to linger over.

The ISS Harrier did land here.
It arrived Imperial Year 1115, Day 267, spent ten hours refueling and replenishing life-support consumables, and departed cleanly. No cargo. No extended stay. That answer is enough.

Captain Deyra Halsson acknowledges the report with a brief nod and no wasted words. By the time the team returns aboard, she has already filed the Azure Voyager’s flight plan and queued for departure clearance.

The downport moves quickly.

Thirty minutes after clamps release, the Azure Voyager lifts cleanly from the Tulsi Das starport and settles into orbit. Fifteen minutes after that, traffic control assigns them a departure lane—an orderly vector outward toward the 100-diameter jump point, threading them past merchant traffic and system patrols with practiced efficiency.

Tulsi Das falls away behind them. It is the 128th Day of the 1116th year of the Imperial Calendar.

The stars stretch.

Jump space takes hold.

Aboard the Azure Voyager — Crew Lounge

Once the ship is steady in jump, Captain Halsson calls the team to the lounge.

She waits until everyone is present before speaking, hands wrapped loosely around a mug that has long since gone cold.

"All right," she begins. "We have confirmation. The Harrier was here, briefly, and left with purpose. That narrows our window."

She lets that settle, then shifts the display at the center of the table.

"Our next stop is Touxilay."

The projection resolves into a small, battered-looking system diagram.


"Touxilay is a Tech Level 8 settlement on a tidally locked moon, orbiting its primary. Population’s just over three thousand. No unified government—locals operate in loose groups, clans, and enclaves."

She shakes her head slightly.

"I’ve never been there myself. But Captain Amegía Tourlay passed through about two years ago. Her assessment was… unfavorable."

A pause.

"Rougher than Tulsi Das. Less predictable. Less forgiving."

Halsson’s gaze moves around the table, steady and deliberate.

"She does not recommend any IISS-style port calls there without a full security team, and that’s a recommendation I intend to follow. We will not announce ourselves. No formal Scout contact."

She taps the display again.

"We’ll conduct a wilderness refuel instead. Once we arrive, we’ll spend a full day scanning the system—looking for signs of the Harrier, residual traffic patterns, or anything else that doesn’t belong."

Her tone firms.

"If Dominicus passed through Touxilay, I am beating she did it quietly. That means we do the same."

She leans back slightly.

"I want your thoughts. What do we need to accomplish there? What risks do you see?"

Outside the lounge viewport, jump space flows on—featureless, silent, and full of unanswered questions.

Touxilay is ahead.

And whatever waits there won’t be friendly to mistakes.

Bohdie listens to the briefing and examines the system chart and information. "What's the plan for the wilderness refuel? There are no Gas Giants in the system and harvesting enough ice from the belt is more than a full day of work. Dark side water landing and wilderness refuel there? I mean that seems to make the most sense to me given the low population and high hydrosphere. Admittedly, I don’t know what I don’t know, so that’s why I’m asking."

"Unless we see signs Harrier ran into trouble here, combat or otherwise, I think we get moving as quickly as possible to the next logical stop. They have followed the flight plan this far, so we should be able to re-establish a trail further along."

Captain Halsson listens without interrupting, eyes moving between Bohdie and Chaala as the lounge display continues to rotate the dim schematic of Touxilay.

When Bohdie finishes, she gives a small nod.

"You’re reading it correctly," she says. "My intent is not to mess around with belt ice or spend a day cracking frozen rock. If we refuel here, it’ll be near dark-side water landing as the dark side is ocean's are frozen with the world being a tidal locked. You are correct this is a wilderness refuel, clean and quiet. There are uninhabited stretches large enough that we can stay well clear of the population centers and avoid attention entirely."

She gestures briefly at the display.

"No breaking ice. No prolonged exposure. In, refuel, out."

Then she adds, deliberately:

"That said—I want to hear what you think. If anyone sees a risk I’m underestimating, now’s the time to say it."

Her attention shifts to Chaala.

"And I agree with you. If our sensor sweep turns up nothing—no trace of the Harrier, no unusual traffic signatures, no indications of combat or distress—then we don’t linger. We move on to the Seital system and try to reestablish the trail there. Speed matters more than certainty at that point."

She lets the room go quiet for a beat, then looks around the table.

"Wilber. JEEM. Virel. Ruiha. Doctor Shone."

Her tone is calm, but expectant.

"I want your input. Risks, alternatives, things we’re missing. Touxilay isn’t a place you improvise in once you’re committed."

The jump hums softly around them as the plan takes shape—still flexible, but narrowing fast.

"The main question to me is, if we need a refuel to the next target. If not, we cold focus on scanning and then move on without taking extr time. But I can't assess the risk of stranding if something should go amiss."

Looking through the notes, he adds:

"How technically adept are this people, what quality have their long range scanners, is there any spacebound security we know of - in other words, how dificult would it be for us to be ignored by the population? The data two years ago - what can we assume safely?"

Wilbur doesn’t look pleased when he returns.
"I can’t say I’m happy with what I found. The Harriet came through on her usual route… and then nothing. No return, no follow‑up, just silence."

He folds his arms, thinking back to the port authority office.
"What bothers me more is how fast that old records clerk reacted when the Harriet was mentioned. That wasn’t curiosity — that was recognition. I’d say we may have drawn some scrutiny."

A slow exhale.
"If you ask me, something happened in this region. I’d recommend short jumps for now, keep our profile low. Just my take on it."

To retcon back to Tulsi Das Starport landing pad when the team gets back and Wilber provides his report and make his suggestion.

Captain Halsson doesn’t answer immediately. She studies Wilber for a moment, weighing the suggestion against the clock already ticking in her head.

"A slower jump means weeks longer before we reach Marinagua," she says evenly. "Right now, we’re looking at roughly three weeks on our current profile. What you’re proposing stretches that timeline considerably."

She folds her arms—not defensive, just deliberate.

"So walk me through it."

Her gaze stays on Wilber.

"How does taking the long way lower our profile enough to justify the delay? Who do we avoid being seen by, and why does that matter more than speed?"

A slight tilt of her head.

"Because from where I’m sitting, more time in transit means more chances to be noticed, not fewer—unless you’re seeing something I’m not."

She lets the question hang, giving Wilber space to answer rather than closing the door.

"I’m open to the idea," she adds. "But I need to understand how a slower route keeps us quieter, not just farther away."

The room stays still, the hum of the ship underscoring the moment.

"All right, Wilber. Convince me."

Virel listens without interruption, hands folded loosely, offering only a brief nod of agreement when Chaala speaks about speed. He remains silent until Wilber finishes, then lifts his gaze.

"What we’ve seen so far is consistent with a routine Scout transit," he says calmly. "Nothing about the Harrier’s movements suggests differently. I expect Touxilay to be the same another quiet waypoint, nothing more."

He pauses, then inclines his head slightly toward Wilber.

"That said, I agree with your concern. The Harrier was noticed, and that attention likely matters more than anything we’ll find here. Whatever happened to them didn’t start on this leg."

His eyes return to the table display.

"The sooner we reach Marinagua, the better."

For a moment, it seems he’s finished. His expression stays neutral, but something tightens behind his eyes, old thoughts and decisions surfacing uninvited. He exhales once, controlled, then adds quietly:

"The longer we delay, the less likely we are to find anyone alive. I understand the mission parameters. I know recovery is the priority." A beat. "But if there are survivors, I’m not leaving them behind. Not this time."

He falls silent again, the weight of the statement left where it stands.

"Information moves at the speed of ships. There's no X-Boat network out here, so what's the reasonable speed we can expect things to flow here?" Chaala glances at the crew and pauses for an answer.

"We run a small risk asking questions, but very little out here is as fast as Azure Voyager, so we should be well ahead of the information wavefront when we reach Marinagua. Harrier didn't have that advantage, taking time for scans and shorter jumps. If someone was watching for outsiders, whether concerned about the Imperium specifically or just anyone with advanced tech and not aligned to any of the local players, could easily have noted her and sent word ahead. Could have had weeks notice if she attracted attention this far out."

Wilbur gives a small, thoughtful smile.
"The reaction at the port authority tells me something isn’t right. The clerk recognized the Harriet instantly — and for a ship that only stopped long enough to refuel, that’s not normal. There was no reason for her to make such a short halt unless something forced it… or the records don’t reflect what really happened."

He crosses his arms, thinking aloud.
"If that’s the case, whatever happened likely happened close to here. Maybe they were followed. Maybe intercepted. Hard to say."

A slow breath.
"And yes, we may have tripped a wire by asking. That means we should be careful… but it also means we’re close to whoever’s behind this."

He glances toward the others.
"My suggestion? Stay in the area for one short jump. Just enough to see if my read is right. Worst case, we lose a little time. Best case, we learn who’s watching."

Bohdie has been listening to the exchange and taking in the various points of view. He takes the time to work out the positions, like a conductor preparing a symphony. But then Wilbur says something that jars, something that doesn’t quite fit right… a flat note that should have been sharp… and that brings him out of the symphonic thought process.

"Wilbur, I’m not doubting the majority of what you are saying. But I think that it is more likely that this facility would take more not of ships like us and Harrier because we do just take on fuel and leave. Most Starports of this class are here because of commerce… ships that bring goods in and take goods out. That would make scout and military ships stand out for not working cargo and freight. So yes, Harrier got noticed. So did we. But it may be this particular profile got noticed and so notice could have been sent ahead. Either way, whatever happened didn’t happen here. We should continue onward. Time may still be of the essence."

Bohdie looks back to Chaka, then back to the Captain with a look that indicates he’s said his intention.

Captain Halsson listens through Wilber’s explanation while the status board on the lounge bulkhead continues to tick through pre-departure checks. The ship is still on the pad. Time hasn’t started moving yet—but it’s about to.

When he finishes, she exhales once, controlled, and meets his gaze.

"Wilber, I understand what you’re saying," she begins. "And I’m not dismissing your perception. Instinct has value."

She gestures lightly toward the direction of the downport, still very much beneath them.

"But right now, while we’re still sitting on a pad at Tulsi Das, what you’ve described is a reaction, not a fact."

Her tone remains even.

"The IISS doesn’t carry institutional weight out here. This isn’t Imperial core space. Most ports in this sector work from charts that are decades old, and a Scout hull—any Scout hull—is unusual enough to stand out on its own."

She tilts her head slightly.

"That clerk’s reaction could just as easily have been surprise. Curiosity. Recognition of a vessel type she’s rarely—if ever—seen. A ten-hour stop by an IISS ship isn’t normal in this neighborhood, and rarity alone explains attention."

She leans forward just a fraction.

"So before we change our plan while we’re still grounded, I need to ask you plainly:
What facts do we have, beyond a reaction to a question, that suggest surveillance, interception, or falsified records?"

The question isn’t accusatory. It’s procedural.

She lets it breathe for a moment, then adds:

"Now—if your instinct is right, then staying in the area is the worst possible response. The correct move isn’t to hover. It’s to move faster than information can travel."

A brief nod toward Chaala.

"And Chaala’s point stands. Out here, information moves at the speed of ships. If someone noticed the Harrier and passed word ahead, speed is our advantage—not delay."

She straightens, glancing briefly at the departure clock.

"We’re still on the pad. If there’s something concrete—traffic anomalies, sensor inconsistencies, evidence of shadowing—I’ll hear it now and we’ll reassess before lift."

Then her voice firms, reassuring without conceding the argument.

"No matter what, once we lift off, we will monitor all open and passive communication feeds—port traffic, merchant chatter, relay traffic—for any mention of the Harrier. If someone is talking, we’ll hear it."

Her gaze sweeps the table.

"But if all we have is possibility, then we don’t stall a working plan. We launch, we move, and we stay ahead of the wave."

"All right," she concludes. "Does anyone have data to add before we commit?"

Wilbur nods once, accepting the captain’s reasoning without defensiveness.

"As I said, Captain, it’s only a hunch. Nothing more. I just wanted to put it on the table so it could inform your decision. I don’t have anything concrete to add."

Captain Halsson — Pre-Departure Response

Captain Halsson nods once at Wilber’s reply, a small, approving motion.

"That’s exactly where it belongs," she says. "On the table, where it can inform the decision."

Her tone is firm but appreciative.

"You raised the concern responsibly. We weighed it. And now we move."

She glances briefly toward the status display ticking down to liftoff.

"We’re not lingering here. We depart Tulsi Das on schedule and proceed at speed to Touxilay. Once we lift, we’ll maintain passive monitoring on all open and relay communications—merchant chatter, port traffic, anything that even mentions the Harrier. If there’s a thread to pull, we’ll hear it."

A pause.

"But until we have facts, momentum is our advantage."

She straightens.

"All right. Strap in. We’re done here."

Recap — Jump Space Planning Meeting (Crew Lounge)

Once the Azure Voyager was steady in jump, Captain Halsson convened the team in the lounge to consolidate what was known and decide the next move.

Confirmed Facts

• The ISS Harrier transited Tulsi Das briefly, arriving 1115 / Day 267
• The current date is 1116 Day 128 (1st 24 hours in Jump)
• The ship remained planetside for approximately ten hours, refueling and replenishing life-support supplies
• No cargo was embarked, and no anomalies were recorded

Next Destination

• Touxilay, a Tech Level 8 settlement on a tidally locked moon
• Population ~3,000, divided among eight loosely organized factions
• No unified government; unstable and unpredictable conditions
• Prior visit (Captain Amegía Tourlay, two years ago) assessed the world as unfavorable

Operational Decisions

• No formal IISS contact or port call at Touxilay
• Wilderness refuel required to reach Seital, using uninhabited regions on the dark side
• A full day of system-wide scanning planned to look for traces of the Harrier, residual traffic patterns, or anomalies
• If the system reveals nothing, the mission proceeds onward to Seital without delay

Team Input

• Bohdie identified the dark-side water landing as the most efficient refuel option, avoiding ice harvesting
• Chaala emphasized speed and continuity of the trail over exhaustive local investigation
• JEEM raised concerns about refuel necessity, detection risk, and the danger of stranding
• Virel assessed the Harrier’s movements as consistent with routine Scout transit and stressed urgency if survivors exist
• Wilber voiced a cautious concern that the Harrier’s brief stop may have drawn attention, while acknowledging no concrete evidence

Command Assessment

• Refueling at Touxilay is required to reach Seital
• Local populations are inward-focused; the primary external risk is Jaibok raider activity, not planetary factions
• The correct counter to uncertainty is speed and discretion, not delay

Continuing Planning — Captain Halsson

Before anyone rises from the table, Captain Halsson remains seated, hands resting near the edge of the display.

"We’re not done yet," she says calmly.

"When we come out of jump at Touxilay, we will have limited time, limited exposure, and no room for hesitation. I want to hear your recommendations—what we do first, and where our effort should be focused in those opening hours."

Her gaze moves deliberately from one face to the next.

"Scanning priorities. Refuel sequencing. Security posture. Contingencies."

She lets the silence work.

"This is the moment to surface concerns or refinements. Once we commit, we execute."

Chaala nods.

"Maintaining our priority on speed, we don't have to give up entirely on quality for scanning. We can reasonably guess that Harrier will have taken a similar approach to refueling due to expected conditions in system. We know where they were coming from and we can use the best data we have for both systems, roll it back 27 weeks and calculate their most likely arrival spots and vectors. It won't be our most efficient arrival but it shouldn't be so bad as to add more than a few hours at a high burn."

"That way we can make a reasonable scan of everywhere they were likely to be, capture any active comm chatter, and still be in and out before any trouble finds us." She pauses. "Assuming we don't jump straight into trouble."

Edit: Adding an astrogation roll for the thought experiment.

Bohdie doesn’t hesitate to add his thoughts. I recommend full Action Stations from Jump Emergence until we are safely on the surface. Two years is long enough that we could waltz right into a hot welcome, especially if there is something to Wilbur’s concerns." Bohdie looks around the room. This is a binary system, which presents its own complications. I am not certain what any scan might turn up after more than half a year unless there was trouble. In which case, the best case scenario may well be a negative result. In my opinion, we should set a hard departure time consistent with refuel and refine operations plus any scan time we want to allocate. I am almost of the thought that any time beyond our refuel is wasted time."

Edrin has been quiet, eyes tracking the rotating system model as Chaala and Bohdie finish. When he speaks, it’s measured and precise—the voice of someone who lives inside orbital mechanics.

"Like Chaala said, the scan isn’t about what’s changed in the last two years," he says calmly. "It’s about what hasn’t."

He gestures to the projection, fingers tracing an orbital arc.

"We’re not trying to map Touxilay as it is now. We’re trying to reconstruct where it was twenty-seven weeks ago, when the Harrier would have arrived."

Edrin shifts the display, bringing up the older stellar survey.

"We take the two-year-old system data, roll the astrogation program forward to the Harrier’s transit window, and solve for Touxilay’s position in orbit around Touxilay III at that time. From there, we extrapolate the most likely arrival vector, then project forward roughly ten hours—their known turnaround time."

He looks up briefly.

"That gives us a probable ingress and egress corridor. If the Harrier left any drive emissions at all, that’s where they’ll be densest."

A pause.

"Assuming those signatures survived the background radiation from the binary stars."

Captain Halsson nods slowly, absorbing it.

"All right," she says. "So we’re not casting a wide net—we’re threading a needle."

Her gaze moves across the table.

"We establish a probable path in and out, then focus our sensors along that corridor. That means pushing our arrays to cut through the stellar noise and background radiation to find anything Scout-grade that doesn’t belong."

She taps the display once, decisive.

"That aligns with speed and discipline. We don’t go hunting ghosts—we check where a ship like the Harrier would have been, and only there."

Her eyes lift to the group.

"Assume Action Stations on jump emergence, as Bohdie recommends. We set a hard departure clock tied to refuel completion and scan window. If we find nothing, we leave."

A brief pause, then:

"Now—given that plan, does anyone see a flaw in the assumptions? Or a way to tighten the window further?"

The system model continues to rotate, binary stars flaring softly behind the ghost-line of a ship that may—or may not—have passed this way.

Virel listens without interruption,. Nothing he’s heard contradicts his own thoughts. For a moment, it seems he’ll let it pass.

Then he speaks in a quiet and measured tone.

"We’ve seen nothing so far that challenges the assumptions you’re working from," he says. "Up to this point, the Harrier’s movement has been consistent with a routine Scout transit."

A brief pause.

"If that remained true, following the established path will confirm it. If it didn’t, if something changed, then there’s no reliable way to predict where they diverted."

Another pause, deliberate this time.

"Reasonable scans make sense. But I don’t believe we’ll understand what happened until we reach Marinagua."

He stops there. No embellishment. No argument.

Wilbur nods once.

"Nothing further to add, Captain."

With a nod, Jeem acknowledges the information, having nothing new to add.

Bohdie turns to Virel and nods. Nothing further to add, he, too, remains silent.

Captain Halsson looks around the table, meeting each set of eyes in turn. No one speaks. No one shifts uncomfortably. The plan has settled.

She nods once, satisfied.

"Good."

She straightens slightly, hands resting on the edge of the display.

"When we emerge from jump, we will conduct an immediate hard scan of the system. I’m not optimistic we’ll find anything definitive—but if there’s debris, residual emissions, or an anomalous powerplant signature, we’ll see it. At the very least, the data will support an IISS survey update of the system."

Her finger traces a narrow corridor across the projection.

"From there, we’ll focus our attention on the highest statistically probable locations, using the assumptions we’ve laid down for the Harrier’s arrival and departure vectors."

She pauses, then adds more quietly:

"Truthfully, my instinct says that if the Harrier ran into trouble here, Junior Administrator Dominicus would have gone to the dark side of Touxilay. Low berth. Sensors on passive. Wake protocols keyed to an IISS scan. That’s the best-case outcome."

Her expression hardens slightly.

"Worst case, the Jaibok intercepted the ship, and we’ll find fragments. If so, that still gives us confirmation."

She continues without drama.

"The third possibility is the simplest: the Harrier refueled quietly and proceeded on to the next system per her flight plan."

She steps back from the display.

"So—execution order is as follows:

1. Jump emergence


2. Active system scan—focused on debris fields and residual emissions


3. Transit to the dark side of Touxilay


4. Wilderness refuel — approximately six hours


5. Sensors set to passive throughout refuel and processing


6. Return to orbit


7. Proceed to the 100-diameter jump point


8. Jump to the Seital system"

She looks around the table once more.

"Any questions?"

The hum of the ship continues around them, steady and patient.

With no question, the plan is set.

"Just in case your 'best case' scenario is true, we should make one, potentially very loud, active scan of the dark side on our departure. Somewhere between 5 and 7 in your EO. If we get a ping back that matches your speculation we can act, if not, we'll at least gather additional data."

Jeem gathers his notes and prepares to carry out his usual tasks on the ship.

Looking at Chaala;
"Excellent point."
The Captain add the active scan of the dark side of Touxilay after lift off to the plan of action displayed.

1. Jump emergence
2. Active system scan—focused on debris fields and residual emissions
3. Transit to the dark side of Touxilay
4. Wilderness refuel — approximately six hours
5. Sensors set to passive throughout refuel and processing
6. Return to orbit
7. Active scan of Touxilay dark side then planet itself
8. Proceed to the 100-diameter jump point
9. Jump to the Seital system

She looks around
"Anybody else?" asking for confirmation before lock-in

I would take Medic for this period, studying with the Doctor, if possible.

Aboard the Azure Voyager — Data Core Access

Touxilay System | Dark-Side Refuel | Late Cycle (0300 in 24 cycle) 123 hours into the 168 hour Jump

The ship is in its quiet hours.

Most of the crew is off-shift. Power draw is steady, minimal, optimized for jump operations. Outside the hull, the jump space quantum fields tries to penetrate the Jump bubble, unseen but felt through the faint variations of the ship’s power grid.

Virel sits alone in the secondary data alcove, lights dimmed low. The core’s background hum is constant—present enough to notice, easy to ignore.

He isn’t searching broadly.

He’s following references tied to Junior Administrator Silva Dominicus’s assignment parameters—cross-links, side notes, commercial entities mentioned once and never again.

Most results are routine. Old surveys. Obsolete charts. Fragmentary trade notes with no apparent relevance.

Then the system pauses.

Not a fault. Not a delay.

A hesitation—the kind that suggests the query resolved somewhere it wasn’t expected to go.

A file header appears, consolidated from multiple low-priority indices:

IISS–TB–COMM–NIP–Δ

Virel stills.

He doesn’t open it immediately.

Instead, he re-reads the header, eyes narrowing slightly at the classification date. The confidence rating. The revision gaps.

Only then does he pull the file open.

(IISS Dossier: Niparoo Trading Companies to follow)

IISS INTELLIGENCE DOSSIER
SUBJECT: NIPAROO TRADING COMPANIES / CORPORATE ENTITIES

File Designation: IISS–TB–COMM–NIP–Δ
Clearance: IISS INTERNAL / FIELD GRADE
Last Consolidated Update: 1114 (Partial)
Analyst Confidence Rating: LOW–MODERATE

EXECUTIVE SUMMARY

Multiple commercial entities operating under variations of the name "Niparoo Trading Company / Corporation" have been identified in scattered reports across the Theta Borealis periphery and adjacent regions. These entities appear to engage in infrastructure development, resource extraction, and trade facilitation in systems with limited local governance or pre-industrial economic profiles.

Available intelligence suggests coordination between several nominally independent firms, though no unified corporate charter has been verified.

NOTE: Despite the shared nomenclature, no conclusive evidence exists that these entities operate as a single legal corporation.

KNOWN FACTS (CONFIRMED / HIGH CONFIDENCE)

-Entities using the Niparoo Trading designation originate from, or maintain strong ties to, the world Niparoo/Ventura (Theta Borealis 2226).
-Niparoo is an industrial, high-population world with extensive shipbuilding and manufacturing capacity.
-This absence is consistent across IISS trade logs, port registries, and third-party mercantile records.
-Reported activities emphasize:

• Long-term infrastructure investment
• Control of logistics chains
• Debt-based or concession-based access to local resources

-These entities favor non-aligned systems with:

• Weak regulatory oversight
• Developing or fragmented governments
• Limited access to offworld capital

PARTIALLY VERIFIED / INCOMPLETE DATA
- Corporate ownership structures are opaque.

• May use Shell companies and layered holding firms are common.
• No definitive board, executive cadre, or controlling family has been identified.

- Starport construction and upgrades attributed to Niparoo-linked firms often:

• Potentially exceed immediate local economic needs
• Prioritize freight throughput over passenger traffic

- Several systems report transfer of port authority or operational control following loan defaults or contract renegotiations.- Contract language recovered from independent brokers suggests/unclear on arbitration clauses .....(file corrupted).
- IISS presence in regions of Niparoo Trading activity is limited or delayed, often arriving after projects are already operational.

DATA GAP: No verified internal communications, corporate doctrine, or strategic planning documents have been recovered.

---

UNCONFIRMED / MISSING INFORMATION

-No confirmed intelligence on:

• Long-term political objectives
• Relationships with major interstellar polities (Jaibok, Verstand-Jugartha Colonies, Trooles Confederation, etc.)
• Ties to intelligence services, private military contractors, or state militaries

-Unknown whether Niparoo Trading entities:

• Coordinate with each other strategically
• Compete internally
• Are franchises operating under a licensing framework

-No reliable estimate exists for:

• Total fleet size
• Annual freight volume
• Capital reserves

- Personnel vetting standards remain unknown.- It is unclear how disputes between Niparoo entities and local governments are resolved in practice.

ANALYST NOTE: Absence of data may indicate deliberate information control rather than intelligence failure.

ERRONEOUS / QUESTIONABLE ENTRIES
(Flagged for review – confidence LOW)

• Previous IISS summaries identify Niparoo Trading as operating within the Verstand-Jugartha Colonies.
• These reports are contradicted by later, higher-quality data and are assessed as false attribution.
• Several commercial digests describe Niparoo Trading as a state-owned enterprise of Niparoo.
• No evidence supports or does not support that formal government ownership exists.
• At least two sector reports claim Niparoo Trading maintains armed convoy escorts equivalent to naval patrol craft.
• These claims are unsubstantiated and likely conflate private security with military assets.
• One outdated file suggests Niparoo Trading avoids shipbuilding worlds.
• This is contradicted by multiple verified shipyard contracts linked to Niparoo itself.

BEHAVIORAL ASSESSMENT (ANALYST CONSENSUS)
Niparoo Trading entities exhibit patient, systemic behavior rather than opportunistic trading patterns. Their operations suggest:

Preference for control over profit margins

They do not display overt hostility, but their presence often correlates with loss of local economic autonomy over time.

[/list]
IISS ASSESSMENT — STRATEGIC RELEVANCE

While not currently assessed as a direct threat, Niparoo Trading entities represent a structural risk to developing systems within Theta Borealis Sector.

RECOMMENDATION:
Increased monitoring in regions where Niparoo-linked firms intersect with IISS exploratory or survey missions.

Bohdie will look over dossier with a practiced administrator’s eye, looking for clues that might not be evident to those who’ve not been in the kind of businesses and places he has.

Inspection of Dossier Roll:
Admin +2, EDU +2

Bohdie turns to Virel and says quietly, "This smells." He looks around to make sure they are alone. "it’s suspicious. Being here. Like this. Don’t you think?". He looks around again. "Should we share this with the others?"

Virel studies the screen without expression. After a moment, he turns to Bohdie.

"It’s disturbing," he says quietly. "And it appears authentic."

His gaze returns to the file. "A draft. Either a finalized version exists elsewhere… or there was a reason it was never completed."

He exhales slowly through his nose. A brief pause. "We should share this internally, with Chaala and the others."

He hesitates, then adds, more carefully: "But not with Captain Halsson. Not yet."

His eyes narrow slightly. "This data was stored on her ship. That doesn’t mean she knows it’s here. And until we understand why it was left accessible… I’d rather not force the issue."

Bohdie nods thoughtfully and says, quietly, Agreed. Make us a copy to share and I’ll go get the others.". With that, Bohdie stands and makes the quick rounds, making contact with each personally.

"More mysteries and we haven't even made planetfall where we were supposed to find one. Have I mentioned that I'm not entirely sold on the stories we were given about our predecessors and why we weren't given the warm hand off we were promised back on Glisten?"

Chaala looks pensive for a moment. Then she continues very quietly, "When we get groundside on Marinagua, one priority will be to secure communications that are not tied to IISS or Ironhand, just to be paranoid. Of course doing so will require off books cash, which will be hard to do in our current circumstance. This line of thinking could lead one into 'financial impropriety' and thus send home without supper. We've got time to think up solutions and I, at least, have a little bit of personal gear that could help."

Jump Emergence — Touxilay System

Jump space releases the Azure Voyager with the usual warning. It is day 135 of the 1116th year in the 3rd Imperium calendar, 1702 hours.

Stars snap into place. Inertial systems rebalance. Realspace asserts itself with a familiar, steady hum as the ship’s sensors and navigation suite lock onto the Touxilay system.


Touxilay III dominates the forward display—vast, banded, and luminous. Held tight in its gravity well is the moon below, one hemisphere locked in constant light, the other buried in endless night.

Captain Halsson is already on the bridge.

"Execute," she says calmly.

---

Initial System Scan

The hard scan begins the moment realspace stabilizes.

Sensors sweep wide, then narrow—looking not for what belongs, but for what shouldn’t.

• No debris fields
• No anomalous powerplant signatures
• No residual drive emissions
• No transponder echoes
• No signals consistent with IISS protocols

Ruiha’s voice comes back first from the sensor console. Ruhia is helping on the bridge with Edrin while Amara is in Engineering monitoring engineering directly.

"Nothing," she reports. "No active or passive signature matching the Harrier. No delayed returns either."

Edrin follows, eyes on the noise-heavy display.

"If anything passed through here twenty-seven weeks ago, it didn’t leave a footprint that survived the radiation environment."

Binary-star interference washes across the sensor bands, flaring and fading, swallowing anything faint or old.

Captain Halsson nods once.

"Understood. Bring us into orbit."

---

Orbit of Touxilay

The Azure Voyager slips into orbit over the moon’s dark hemisphere.

Here, the sensor picture sharpens—but only where expected.

Passive arrays unfold carefully, listening rather than probing.

Along the terminator band on the day-facing side, eight distinct clusters resolve—exactly where projections placed them.

• Routine radio traffic
• Microwave relays
• Short-range radar sweeps

All inward-facing. All faction-bound. All well within expected civilian bands.

Nothing reaches outward in the Electromagnetic spectrum (EMS) to the Azure Voyager, no active LADAR, scans of any sort while in orbit.
Nothing reaches deep.

"Eight population centers confirmed," Edrin says. "All activity directed surface-to-surface. No anomalous emissions."

Captain Halsson exhales slowly.

"So far, nothing unexpected."

Selecting the Refuel Site

With the factions mapped and logged, Halsson turns to Edrin.

"Find us the quietest ice."

Edrin overlays crust-thickness data with thermal gradients and subglacial models, pushing the selection farther and farther from known activity. The chosen site lies deep on the dark side—isolated, cold, and far outside any likely sensor cone.

"This location," Edrin confirms. "Ice is load-bearing. Thin enough for the laser turret to punch through. Liquid confirmed beneath."

Halsson nods.

"Take us down."

---

Dark-Side Descent

The Azure Voyager descends into darkness.

No beacons. No broadcasts. Engines throttled low as the moon’s night side rises to meet them—featureless, frozen, and ancient.

The landing struts settle with a muted crunch as they bite into solid ice.

The ship goes still.

On the Ice — Dark Side of Touxilay

Outside, the environment is brutal.

The temperature reads –101°C.

Wind scours the surface in constant, howling sheets, dragging ice crystals across the ground like drifting sand. The darkness is nearly absolute—broken only by the distant glow of the binary stars, which paint a thin, ghostly line of light along the far horizon.

Above that, the stars are sharp and merciless.

There is no other illumination.
No reflected light.
No warmth.

The Azure Voyager sits alone on the ice, its hull creaking softly as it equalizes against the cold.

Amara’s voice cuts in over the intercom, already focused, already moving.

"Engineering to refuel stations. I need four people."

She doesn’t wait for acknowledgment.

"Two in Engineering—Chaala, you’re with me.
Two on the surface to deploy and seat the refuel lines."The laser turret begins to cycle, its emitter warming as it prepares to cut a precise shaft through the ice below.

Wind howls.
Ice shifts.
Sensors remain silent.

The Azure Voyager draws breath from beneath the frozen surface of Touxilay— and for now, no one knows they’re here.

GM - Actions??

Who is going out on the surface to extend the purification plant tubing & place it into the water and who is helping in Engineering? Mech/Electronics/Engineering preferred or J-o-T instead.

The turret cycles.
A controlled beam lances downward.
Ice steams, fractures, and retreats, leaving a dark, perfectly circular opening that exhales ghostly vapor into the night.

Refueling stations come online.

The winds rake the ice at nearly two hundred kilometers an hour, screaming low and constant, punctuated by violent gusts that shove against suits and hull alike.

Wilbur steps forward without hesitation.
"I’ll go as well," he says.

There’s a faint spark in his eyes. He hasn’t worn a suit in far too long, and the thought of setting foot on a frozen, alien surface again stirs something almost nostalgic in him. The weight of the scaphander, the strange texture of a world that isn’t home — those were always moments he cherished.

"Been a while since I stretched my legs in a suit," he adds, almost to himself. "Feels good to be out there again."

Jeem frowns with the news. He hears Bohdie out, then asks only one questions:
"You sure about it?"

"I'm on the active end of decisions - decisions made by better paid individuals. That makes the job fun - you never know what to expect."

He gives Bohdie a nod, acknowledging the effort. After that, he resumes his work with a deep breath.

After JEEM helps the others with their vacc suits, making sure everything is alright and one suit is prepared for fast evacuation should anything go amiss, he will move to help in engineering.

Aboard the Azure Voyager — Pre-EVA Operations Dark Side of Touxilay | Refuel Prep

Wilber and Bohdie report to the forward suit lockers without ceremony. Vacc suits come off their racks one by one—heavy, utilitarian things designed less for comfort than survival. Seals are checked. Gloves locked. Mag boots tested twice, then again.

© 2024 Pearce Design Studio, LLC This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0 International License.

The wind outside can be heard even through the hull now—not sound so much as pressure, a constant low vibration that carries through the deck plates.

Amara’s voice comes over internal comms, calm but tight.

"Bridge, Engineering. Request exterior lighting for surface operations."

A short pause, then Captain Halsson’s acknowledgment.

"Approved. Bringing lights up now."

The ship responds.

Floodlights along the hull cycle from standby to full power, washing the ice shelf in harsh white illumination. Blowing spindrift flashes like static across the viewports. Shadows stretch long and distorted as the wind tears at the surface, revealing ridges, pressure lines, and the dark, perfectly circular refuel shaft cut into the ice.

In Engineering, systems come alive. Pumps spool to idle. Filters cycle through diagnostics. Status lights flick from amber to green in deliberate sequence.

Amara finishes her checks and keys the local channel.

"Surface team, stand by. We’ll start once the hatch cycles. No one rushes this."

The Azure Voyager sits solid on the ice, lights blazing into the night.

Outside waits the cold, the wind—and the work.

Bohdie takes the lead, stepping into the airlock to the outer door once he has suited up in his tailored Vacc suit (a necessity for his tall, slender frame). The airlock cycles and he heads down the ramp (ladder?). The frigid surface crunches under his boots, not really heard, but felt, as each step settles slightly. A strong gust of wind nearly whips him off his feet, the narrow space between the surface and the ship making the wind’s speed even stronger and faster. A quick decision and he radios, "Snap in your safety line. One good gust and you might find yourself skittering a hundred meters or more before you are able to regain your footing." he snaps in his safety line as he says this.

He takes a moment to orient himself as he takes in the sounds on the ice. The lonely howl of the wind pierces deeper than it should. The blowing ice crystals slap the hard surfaces, including the faceplate, ticking and pinging like a sandstorm. The flexing ice creaking and popping was, quite possibly, the most disconcerting… especially the loud ones, the ones that sound like explosions. And the ones, especially, that ripple cracks, as if the cracks were actually coming for you!

Bohdie shakes his head to clear his thoughts. "Moving to the hoses now."

Dark Side of Touxilay — Ice Shelf Surface

Surface Team: Wilber & Bohdie

The loading ramp lowers with a heavy, deliberate motion, hydraulics fighting the cold as it settles onto the ice with a dull, resonant thump. The moment the seal breaks, the wind pours in—violent and unrelenting, hammering at the opening as if trying to force its way inside.

Wilber and Bohdie snap their safety tethers into the deck-mounted line in practiced sequence. The connectors lock with solid, reassuring clicks. The line hums faintly under tension, already pulling hard as the wind tries to drag it sideways.

The ice beyond the ramp is a blinding white under the floodlights, spindrift tearing across the surface in long, low sheets. Visibility is good—but only because the lights are brutal. Everything else is motion.

They step down.

The Azure Voyager sits low on the ice, her landing posture almost a crouch. It helps. The wind still slams into them, but the hull breaks the worst of it, creating a narrow pocket of relative shelter close in. Even so, every step requires intent—crampons biting into the ice, metal teeth shrieking faintly as they dig for purchase.

To starboard, beneath the ship’s belly, a yellow warning beacon spins steadily, its light cutting rhythmic arcs through the blowing ice. That’s the mark. That’s where the fuel purification plant hose will deploy.

Getting there is work.

They move hand-over-hand along the hull, gloves locking onto recessed grips and grab rails built into the plating. The wind hits harder as they edge out from the ramp’s partial shelter, shoving at their center of mass, tugging at suit joints, trying to twist them sideways.

The safety line stretches taut behind them.

Under the beacon, half-buried in frost and rime, is a recessed plate set into the hull. The lettering is simple, utilitarian, and unmistakable:

PRESS IN TO OPEN FUEL PURIFICATION PLANT HOSE

One of them braces. The other leans in, fighting the wind long enough to drive a gloved palm hard against the plate.

There’s a muted clunk felt more than heard.

A panel irises open. A thick, reinforced hose begins to feed out, stiff from the cold, its mass immediately caught by the wind. It bucks and twists like a living thing, straining against its restraints as more length pays out.

Managing it takes both of them.

They wrestle the hose down, forcing it into alignment, guiding it toward the refuel shaft cut into the ice. Every meter gained feels earned. The hose drags, vibrates, and pulls, the wind trying to lift it clear and turn it into a battering ram.

At the edge of the shaft, vapor rolls up from the black water below, ghostly and constant.

They angle the hose down, fighting one last surge of wind, then lower it carefully into the opening. The moment the intake disappears beneath the surface, the tension changes—subtle, but noticeable—as the system stabilizes and the hose settles into place.

The line stops thrashing.

The pumps begin their low, distant thrum through the hull.

Wilber and Bohdie remain where they are for a moment, braced against the wind, hands still locked on the hose, making sure it’s seated properly.

Above them, the Azure Voyager looms—silent, lit, and waiting.

The refuel has begun.

Each of you make a Dex and a Strength Roll. 2D6 roll +/- DM for your stat. This is 2 rolls for each character, one for STR and one for DEX

Bohdie visibly struggles with the bulk and heft, fighting against the wind. His aim is better, but still the wind and equipment fight him. He tries applying himself through consistent struggle, like an endurance race. "I'm struggling with this mass against this wind." He does his best to communicate his difficulties, but also his intent… "Slow is smooth, smooth is fast. Let’s just try to be steady."

Wilbur is concentrating on his job.

Dark Side of Touxilay — Ice Shelf Surface
Surface Team: Wilber & Bohdie

With the hose finally seated, the violent thrashing eases into a steady, heavy pull. The pumps engage fully now, the vibration traveling up through the line and into their gloves—constant, mechanical, reassuring in its own way.
For a few seconds, the wind seems almost manageable.
Then it surges.
Not a gust—a wall of force, slamming in from the open shelf, stronger than anything before it. The pressure hits Bohdie broadside, catching the exposed angle of his suit and wrenching him sideways.
His crampons scrape.
Once.
Twice.
The ice beneath his left foot shears smooth.
Bohdie loses his grip on the hose and goes down hard, shoulder first, the impact knocking the breath from him even through the suit. He slides half a meter before the safety tether snaps taut, arresting the fall with a violent jolt.
The sudden tension ripples down the line.
Wilber doesn’t have time to react.
The jerk yanks him off balance, tearing his hand from the hull grip. His crampons screech uselessly across the ice as he’s dragged forward, slamming down onto one knee and then his side, skidding toward Bohdie before his own tether goes tight.
Both men end up sprawled on the ice, wind howling over them, lines stretched to their limits.
The hose holds.
The intake stays submerged.
But for a moment—just a moment—neither of them is upright, and the wind does not let up.
Above them, floodlights blaze.
Behind them, the Azure Voyager stands unmoving.
And the ice keeps screaming under the storm

Captain Halsson immediately calls the air lock team
"Some get out there now."

Wilber and Bohdie roll once for recovery use strength stat as DM

"Ruiha, that's your cue. Be safe. Virel, you're backup to her backup." Chaala orders over comms.

She turns to Amara. "Permission to suit up just in case?"

Bohdie takes a moment to recover his breathing, using all his running experience to manage his recovery. Still, his lungs scream in his mind in protest and for a few seconds (real time… but it seems like an eternity of hell in Bohdie’s mind) his lungs Protestant that his O2 line was cut. He forces his mind to center itself, telling his lungs that they take orders from his brain, not the other way around. A few heartbeats later, air begins to flow back into his shocked lungs. "this… is… Bohdie." he broadcasts haltingly. "I’m o.k. Just got the wind knocked out of me." Bohdie makes sure his breathing is regular before attempting to move. Then, taking his time, he tests the safety line. "Attempting self-recovery" he says. He moves slowly, deliberately. Rolling onto his side, feet toward the ship, giving the lowest profile to the wind. Then onto his stomach. The wind batters him with every movement, slightly less because his feet take the brunt of its fury. He tries to push himself upward, moving a knee underneath him. Then the other. The wind both helps and hinders, blowing his legs, but also trying to push him back down. The slick ice isn’t making the job any easier, either! He tries to move one leg to get a hold with the crampons…

Assuming he is able to self-recover, he will go check on Wilbur and assist him, if necessary. Each movement, slow. Deliberate. Making sure he sets his crampons before each step.

This is my background… I use it to help sleep… helps drown out my tinnitus.

Wilbur fails hard. The sudden pressure surge from Bohdie’s fall hits him before he can brace, slamming him onto the frozen floor. The impact knocks the breath out of him; he’s left dazed, barely conscious, fighting to stay aware.

Bohdie looks carefully before acting. He searches to see if he can catch hold of Wilbur’s safety line. Now that he is up, he decides he can help Wilbur best by sitting back down, back to the landing gear and crampons dug in as he reaching for Wilbur’s tether. If he manages to get Wilbur’s tether, he will dig both of his crampons in, pushing hard against the landing gear with his back and bracing as best as he can. Then he will start to pull Wilbur’s tether, feeding it behind him for more leverage. Hand over hand, slowly and carefully. If he can’t pull, he will stabilize Wilbur until help arrives.

Chaala acknowledges the Engineers order and does her best to focus on the task in front of her, trusting her team to have each other's backs.

Wilbur, now fully aware of his predicament, tries to brace himself and get a foothold anywhere he can. He’s done being a ragdoll pinned against a windshield; he fights to anchor a boot and with the help of Bohdie regain some control.

Refuel Operations | High Wind Event Ongoing

Wilber knows exactly how bad this is—and that knowledge burns away any panic.

He fights the wind anyway.

He twists his hips, tries to drive a crampon point down into the ice, searching for anything that will bite. For a heartbeat it almost works—the metal teeth scrape, catch—

—and then the gust hits again.

The ice shears smooth beneath his boot and the purchase is gone. Wilber slams back against the pull of his tether, chestplate skidding across the ice, breath forced out of him as the line snaps him short once more. He’s no longer tumbling, but he’s not gaining ground either—pinned, suspended, and burning strength fast.

Nearby, Bohdie plants himself hard against the landing leg.

He lowers himself deliberately, back pressed into the ribbed strut, crampons dug deep. Ice squeals under the metal points as he leans in and reaches for Wilber’s safety line. His glove brushes it—misses—then finds it again.

He gets a grip.

Bohdie braces, pushes with everything he has, trying to turn leverage into progress. The wind answers immediately, hammering into him, locking him in place. He can’t move forward. Can’t pull Wilber in.

But he doesn’t slide.

Bohdie is anchored—pinned to the landing gear, holding fast against the storm. The tether stays tight, steadying Wilber just enough to keep things from getting worse.

Inside the ship, Engineering is all discipline.

Chaala keeps her focus where it belongs. Intake rates. Pressure differentials. Thermal stability. She tracks the numbers, filtering out the noise and the knowledge of what’s happening outside. Then something flickers at the edge of her display.

A diagnostic panel.

A camera icon.

She pulls it up.

The external hose-intake camera feed—disabled by default—comes online, showing the black water below the ice shaft and the reinforced hose disappearing into it. Chaala locks it in place, eyes flicking between the visual feed and the live data. The intake is stable. No cavitation. No debris.

Beside her, Amara is working four systems at once—purification flow, intake pressure, output rates, and fuel cell capacity. She watches the levels climb with a practiced eye, fingers hovering as the first cell nears its threshold. At precisely the right moment, she cues the computer.

Fuel transfer switches cleanly to the next cell.

No overflow. No alarms.

Outside, the storm doesn’t care.

Wilber’s arms are starting to tremble. Bohdie can feel it through the line—every vibration transmitted straight into his grip. The wind howls louder, spindrift blasting sideways under the floodlights.

And then—movement.

Through the glare and blowing ice, a third figure fights into view.

Ruiha.

She moves low, deliberate, Halligan tool clenched in both hands like an improvised ice axe. She plants it hard into the ice, hooks, pulls herself forward, then repeats—each step earned, each pause calculated. The safety line trails behind her, singing under tension.

She reaches Wilber’s side just as another gust slams into him.

Wilber feels something solid strike against his lower leg—not the wind, not the ice. A hooked metal edge bites in, anchors.

His suit comm crackles.

A voice cuts through the storm, calm and certain.

"I got you."

Victor generally remained confined to the medical bay of the ship and avoided company because of his introvert nature. He was not sure what to say to the crew who had more military experience than him. Sometimes his past trauma came to haunt him but he generally kept it controlled. However, things were not going well for the ground refueling team. He was keeping an eye on what was going on and this was seriously going wrong with every passing second. He turned on the ship's general comm and said awkwardly, "This is Dr. Shone. I...don't know if I can help somehow but tell me if anything needs to be done."

Chaala takes a brief moment from her monitoring to respond to Doc.

"Just keep everything fired up in sickbay. If we don't get them back in quickly we're looking at frostbite at the least, those suits can't hold out forever."

Bohdie will take up the slack as Ruiha helps Wilbur return to the ship. "I’m ok. Go ahead and get him inside."

Once Wilbur is taken care of, Bohdie will move very carefully back to the refueling station and make sure there are no problems.

Wilbur does what he can to help Ruiha free him, breath coming hard from the effort and the beating he’s taken.

"Thanks… I owe you a solid one."

Refuel Status: Stabilizing

Ruiha wastes no time.

With the Halligan biting deep into the ice, she gives Wilber the leverage he needs. Together they work him upright—slowly, deliberately—until his boots finally find purchase that holds. The wind still batters them, but the worst of it is past. Wilber nods once through his visor, breath heavy but controlled.

"I’m okay," Bohdie’s voice cuts in over suit comms, steady despite the strain. "Get him inside."

Ruiha clips Wilber in close and pivots them back toward the ramp, moving in short, controlled steps, Halligan anchoring each pause. The Azure Voyager’s hull looms larger with every meter, floodlights glaring through the spindrift.

They make the ramp.

The hatch cycles.

Warmth—relative warmth—floods in as the seals close behind them.

Wilber is handed off without ceremony and guided straight toward sickbay, Ruiha staying close until he’s inside and the med systems take over.

Outside, Bohdie waits for a lull, then releases from the landing leg and moves back to the refuel point. He checks the hose intake visually and by feel—line tension steady, no vibration spikes, no signs of ice collapse or debris intrusion. The black water below remains calm, the intake seated exactly where it should be.

Inside Engineering, Chaala never lets her focus slip. Intake rates remain stable. Pressure differentials stay within tolerance. Thermal stability holds. She keeps the external camera feed up, watching the hose and the shaft even as the numbers scroll past, filtering signal from noise with practiced ease.

Captain Halsson’s voice comes over internal comms, firm and final.

"Bohdie, refuel looks stable. That’s enough time in the wind. Get inside and report to sickbay."

Bohdie acknowledges and makes his careful return, ramp cycling shut behind him as the ship once again seals itself against the storm.

In sickbay, Doctor Shone works quietly and efficiently. Scans come back clean—no frostbite, no cold exposure injuries. The vacc suits did exactly what they were designed to do. Wilber and Bohdie both show minor bruising and muscle strain, nothing more. Sore, shaken, but intact.

A few hours later, the numbers tell the rest of the story.

Water intake steady.
Purification nominal.
Fuel transfer uninterrupted.

The main tank climbs past the halfway mark.

252 dtons total capacity.
Current fill: ~56%.

Outside, the wind still screams across the ice.

Inside the Azure Voyager, the refuel continues—quietly, methodically, and finally, under control.

Presently

Ruiha and Virel wait at the airlock, half-suited and ready. Helmets hang open, gloves clipped at their sides. Steam curls from insulated mugs as they drink something hot and strong, eyes occasionally flicking to the status board. They’re on standby—close enough to move fast if something goes wrong outside, far enough to conserve strength if it doesn’t.

In Engineering, JEEM and Chaala work alongside Amara at the purification consoles. Intake rates remain steady, filters cycling smoothly as raw water becomes fuel-grade feedstock. The system is past the halfway point now. Barring complications, another four hours will finish the process.

In the lounge, Bohdie and Wilber sit with boots off, wrapped in the ship’s quiet warmth. Mugs of hot tea steam on the table beside a scatter of crackers and cooling ice packs, now more comfort than necessity. Bruises ache, but nothing worse. They trade stories in low voices—half rueful, half amused—about nearly becoming kites in a frozen gale.

Doctor Shone joins them, unobtrusive, settling into a nearby seat with his own drink. He keeps an eye on both men without making a show of it, content for now that the worst has passed.

Outside, the wind still screams across the ice.

Inside the Azure Voyager, the refuel continues—and the crew waits, rested but alert, ready if the calm breaks again.

ACTIONS?

Concerns?

Questions?

Victor smiled at Bohdie and Wilber saying, "That was a risky close call, but you two are far more experienced in handling hazardous environments. Your endeavor so far is a success, and I hope that we won't need any more venturing outside in that frigid environment again. Hopefully the refueling is done soon without any problems. How are you two feeling?"

JEEM works in a focused manner. It is better not to make any mistakes now and be finished in four hours than to try to optimise something and have it go wrong.

Wilbur sinks deeper into the lounge seat, the warmth finally catching up with him. His voice is low, rough with fatigue.
"Good… I could use a real rest."

Before he can say more, his eyes drift shut and he dozes off right there, tea cooling beside him.

Bohdie sips the tea, letting its heat and rejuvenating power wash through him. Unlike Wilbur, Bohdie is not tired and wants to go back out and finish the job. "Honestly, Doc, I’m fine. But I don’t like leaving a job half done. I’d like to finish this tea and then suit back up and finish up."

Virel remained at the airlock watching through the external feeds as Ruiha forced her way across the ice. To anyone nearby, he showed no reaction beyond a rigid stillness with his eyes fixed in absolute attention.

Inside, the relief came slow and quiet. Ruiha was enough. He acknowledged that without ceremony. If the order had come, he would have gone but as he watched her move with practiced certainty, a question surfaced that he hadn’t asked himself in some time. Whether he was still meant for that type of work.

When Wilber and Bohdie were brought back inside, Virel followed at a distance, unobtrusive. He waited in the lounge until Doctor Shone delivered his assessment.

He gave a single nod then turned away. His next stop was Engineering and hear it from Chaala how refuelling was going.

Journey to the Seital System

Four hours later, the last of the fuel transfer completes with a muted chime through the Azure Voyager’s engineering spaces. Valves seal. Hoses retract. The ship eases free of its temporary lifeline and drifts clear, engines idling at standby.

Captain Halsson wastes no time.

"Bring us up," she orders calmly.

The Azure Voyager lifts off from the Touxilay system’s quiet gravity well and begins a slow, deliberate sweep. Military-grade sensors bloom outward—tight, disciplined cones probing shadowed orbits, cold Lagrange points, and the dead space where transponders sometimes choose not to speak.

For several long minutes, the bridge is silent save for the low murmur of systems and the occasional soft tone as scans resolve.

Nothing.

No active emissions, outside of the planetwide searches among the different factions on Touxilay surface and atmosphere.
No passive signatures that don’t belong.
No ghost contacts, no sensor echoes that linger a fraction too long.

With the system declared clear, Halsson nods once.
"Set course for the hundred-diameter limit."

The Azure Voyager accelerates, the planets of the system shrinking behind them as distance grows measured and precise. Crew and Ironhand contractors feel the familiar pressure settle in—the quiet moment before a jump, when routines are checked and rechecked, and everyone privately counts the ways things can go wrong.

They reach the jump point without incident.

No alarms.
No unexpected mass shadows.
No last-second warnings from the void.

"Jump solution confirmed," says Edrin, the astrogator.

Halsson rests her hand lightly on the command panel, eyes fixed ahead.
"Execute."

The lanthanum grid begins to light up at the nose and as its lite geometric patterned increases across the hull, in front space folds.

The stars smear, twist, and vanish as the Azure Voyager punches through reality and into Jump Space. The transition is smooth—almost gentle—but the deck plates hum with a tone just low enough to feel rather than hear.

The ship and everyone aboard are gone.

Another 168 hours stretch ahead, with Jump emergence plotted at day 142 of the Imperial Calendar. Another sealed bubble in Jump Space with it's own artificial gravity, recycled air, and waiting.

Behind them, Touxilay keeps its secrets.

Ahead lies Seital.

And Jump Space, as always, listens in its own quiet way.

Actions?

Skill study or other areas of study? The Skill study chart is located here

"Well, that was certainly not your standard, boring layover. In fact, I found it a welcomed change!" Bohdie's comment may have been a little too exuberant. But he doesn't appear to be embarrassed by it, either. But he is also glad to be back in J-Space. Its the down-time he needs to continue studying how people interact and how to interact and entertain others. He will also scan the ship's and his own personal electronic library for titles that may help in his endeavor. He runs into a title he has not heard before, The Great Gatsby. Unfortunately, it appears that the actual file may have been corrupted and is unreadable. So he also uses it to continue to put together the pieces of the puzzle they have been handed. He asks around about the sensor scans they took and anything else they might have learned while on the surface and in the system of Touxilay.

Wilbur sits a little apart, quieter than usual, still unsettled by the whole ordeal. Once they’re safely back aboard, he finally speaks:

"I need to get better with a vacc suit. I’m not going through that again."

Jump Transit – Seital Briefing (Hour 84)

The lounge lights dim as the holographic table activates, projecting a rotating star map that slowly resolves into a complex, three-star system. Crew and Ironhand contractors gather closer, the faint hum of Jump Space ever-present beyond the hull.

Captain Halsson stands at the head of the table.

"Alright, everyone—this is Seital."


She gestures, and the display zooms outward before settling into a wide, balanced view.

"Triple-star system," she continues. "Primary is a yellow-white dwarf, stable but bright enough to complicate sensor shadows in the inner system. Companion one is a red dwarf, low output but gravitationally noisy. The third is a white dwarf—old, dense, and not something you want to misjudge on approach."

The stars shift aside as orbital paths fade in.

"Seital has three asteroid belts. The inner belt is heavy with debris—dense, fast-moving, and useless to us. The middle belt is thinner, more dispersed. The main world—Seital itself—sits right here," she highlights a rocky planet, "between the inner and middle belts."

A brief pause.

"That world is Tech Level Five. Early petrochemical age. No starport. No orbital infrastructure. Limited surface water—about ten percent planet-wide—and what they have is tightly controlled. We will not be operating anywhere near inhabited space."

She flicks her hand outward and the map expands again.



"Beyond the outer belt is where things get interesting."

A massive blue-white sphere appears, its atmosphere tagged in warning amber.

"This is the big water world. Subsurface ocean under a global ice shell. Unfortunately, the atmosphere is corrosive—bad enough to eat seals and pit exposed systems over time. That rules it out for refueling or close operations."

The display shifts farther out, colder tones dominating.

"Past that, we have two ice worlds. Both are cold, inert, and quiet. The outermost—Seital VII, at roughly 70 astronomical units—is our target."

Seital VII enlarges, showing deep ice layers and faint atmospheric traces.


"It’s sizeable, stable, and has a very thin oxygen–nitrogen atmosphere. Not breathable, but manageable. Cold enough that nothing lives there, and far enough out that nobody cares what we’re doing."

She brings up schematics of drilling equipment.

"Refueling will be slow. We’ll be processing ice directly—auger, conveyor belt, onboard refinement. I want personnel on standby at all times during extraction. Ice fractures, mechanical jams, and thermal stress are the main risks. If something goes wrong, it’ll go wrong quietly and fast."

Halsson looks around the table, calm but unmistakably serious.

"We stay buttoned up. Minimal EVA. No heroics. This is a logistics stop, not an adventure."

She lets the hologram continue its slow rotation.

"Questions?"

Outside the lounge, Jump Space remains unchanged—but the shape of Seital is now clear in everyone’s mind: three suns, broken rock, frozen water, and a long, cold stop waiting at the edge of the dark.

As the ship enters jump and the crew lets out the traditional collective semi-held breath, Chaala congratulates the team on a job well done.

"Not without a bit of adventure, but everyone kept their heads and watched each other's backs. And a couple of you had some good old Type-2 fun."


After the captain's briefing, Chaala nods. "Seems pretty straightforward. Set down, get the refueling set up, not enough atmo to have winds like last time. Once set up, two folks ready to go if anything goes wrong. We'll all cycle through except Doc who will be in sick bay ready for anything that might go wrong."