Traveller, Adventure 1

The Situation: A month ago my scout ship, "Nebulous Eye" sat in orbit above the planet’s surface, silently following its plotted trajectory, its aging hull gleaming faintly in the distant sunlight. I had leaned back in the pilot's chair, staring at the credit deposit that had just been made into my account. 500,000 Cr. A staggering sum for a simple courier job—if you believed the description. But I knew better. Nothing about this job was simple, not the least of which was the shadowy figure behind it all. They hadn’t even bothered to meet in person. The entire job offer came through a remote audio system, no video, no traceable comms. Just a voice, cold and professional, that told me what I needed to know and no more. It had all started three standard days before, when I entered orbit of this backwater world, desperate for a job. Any job that paid well. And was willing to pay some credits in advance. So I answered a job ad on one of the fringe systems' anonymous boards. The posting was vague, a call for an independent courier with Jump-2 capabilities and the willingness to undertake multiple deliveries. It didn’t give specifics, but it offered payment that was too tempting to ignore. The voice on the other end of the comms had been clipped, formal. "You’re looking for work," it had said. Not a question, but a statement of fact. "I am," I replied, still trying to assess the risk behind those unseen words. "The job is simple," the voice continued. "You’ll provide courier service to three specific locations. Coordinates will be provided one jump at a time. Further information will be disclosed only when required. You’ll receive no more, no less." "And what kind of package are we talking about?" I asked. My hand hovered over the comms panel, ready to end the call if things started to sound too sketchy. I’d been a Scout for years. I’d seen enough dangerous cargo to know what to avoid. "That is none of your concern," came the response, almost a warning in its simplicity. "Your job is transportation. Nothing more." "And the pay?" There was a pause, a moment of silence that stretched a little too long. "We’ve already deposited 500,000 credits into an account under your name. You will have immediate access to 50,000. The rest will be unlocked upon successful completion of all three deliveries." The sum was staggering. I had expected good pay, sure, but this was beyond anything I had imagined. I didn’t have time to react before the voice continued. "To be clear, Captain Renn, the moment you accept those credits, you are committed. The job will be completed. Any deviation—any attempt to run—will result in... //consequences//." There it was. No direct threats, but the message was clear. This wasn’t just any courier job. Whoever these people were, they apparently had the means to track me, and they weren’t playing around. I swallowed hard, glancing at the flickering control panels of my ship. The scout ship, Nebulous Eye, was an old model, on loan from the Imperial Scout Service, and it felt every one of its decades in service. The engines groaned more often than they purred, and the list of worn-out systems that needed replacing was growing by the day. Fifty thousand credits… that was damn near how much I needed to get her back into prime operating condition. A coincidence? Not likely. These people knew more about me than I had shared. I remembered the voice again. "Take the credits, Captain, and you’ll get your ship back in shape to once more explore space. Everything you need, plus more." A pause, then a slight shift in tone, almost like a veiled warning. "But don’t think for a second that running is an option. We’ll know." For a Scout like me, space was freedom. I couldn’t afford to stay grounded, couldn’t afford to let the Nebulous Eye fall apart piece by piece while I scavenged odd jobs for spare credits. This job was my only shot, but it came with chains. Silent ones, invisible, but heavy nonetheless. I exhaled, looking out at the stars, the same ones I’d spent my life exploring. "I’ll take it," I’d finally said. The words fell like stones as I uttered them. The line went dead immediately after, and then the credits had appeared, just as promised. 50,000 Cr unlocked and ready for me to use. I checked the account again, as if to make sure it hadn’t disappeared as mysteriously as it arrived. With a few taps, I transferred enough to cover the repairs. It wasn’t long before the credits started flowing into the appropriate hands—the repair crew I’d hired, the parts I had ordered, all the things that would keep the Nebulous Eye running for another few jumps. Soon they repair crews were done. Then, "they" came aboard. They being those individuals who brought the package aboard absd secured it in the ship's small cargo bay. I was told, via comms, in a respectful but very firm way that I was to go to my cabin and wait until "they" had completed their task. Currently: But now, after "they" had left, as I sat on the bridge, there was a different weight in my chest. It wasn’t just the aging ship anymore, or the package I had yet to even receive. It was the knowledge that I was being watched, tracked, and measured. Whoever this faceless employer was, they had eyes on me—and they weren’t going to let me slip. As I set the ship’s systems, prepping for the first jump, a message flashed on the console. "Coordinates transmitted. Proceed to the Draxos system." The voice’s words echoed in my mind as I prepared for the jump. "The cargo is of no concern to you. Just get it to its destination. And remember, 450,000 credits is riding on you doing your job." I’d been in the Scout Service long enough to know that every mission, no matter how straightforward it seemed, always had layers beneath the surface. This one was no different. There were no threats, no weapons pointed at me, but the stakes were clear. As I reached for the controls to initiate the jump sequence, I felt a shiver run down my spine. No turning back now. Now your story continues... [[Character & Ship Stats]] ####Bridge You're on the bridge of a 100 ton Scout ship. It's your ship, the "Nebulous Eye", which you recieved as part of your retirement package when you left the Scouts. Recently you accepted a job where it seemed healther not to ask too many questions. You really need the credits, so you haven't been too picky about the last few jobs. Except this one seems to be a bit more than you signed up for. What do you want to do? [[Read the job contract]] [[Check the bridge controls]] [[Check ship's weapon status]] [[Jump to your next destination]]

####Job Document You read... <div class="narrow-column"> (text-colour:green)[Captain Renn, As per our mutual agreement, you are to deliver the package currently in your hold to the Draxos system, located in the Lost Nebula sector. Upon successful delivery, further instructions will be provided, including a new cargo for transport. Your task is simple: ensure each cargo reaches its destination intact. Details concerning the cargo’s nature are irrelevant to your role. Your sole responsibility is timely and discreet delivery. Once the new cargo is secured and you're in orbit, the next set of navigation coordinates will be transmitted to you. Be advised, the agreed-upon sum of 450,000 credits is contingent on your strict adherence to these terms. As we've discussed failure is not an option. Do your job. Do not deviate from the plan. We expect professionalism and results. Good luck, Captain.] </div> What's Next? [[Move to the galley]] [[Check the bridge controls]] [[Return to the navigation board]] [[Check ship's weapon status]]

####Bridge - Main Control Console You move toward the main control panel and run a quick diagnostic check on the ship’s systems. The usual hum of the engines is steady, but something catches your eye on the display. (text-colour:yellow)[-Power Levels: Stable, though there's a slight fluctuation in the auxiliary power. It's probably nothing, but it might be worth keeping an eye on. -Life Support: Fully operational. No anomalies detected. -Communications: Online, but there’s some interference in the long-range sensors. You aren’t picking up any signals from nearby systems. -Navigation: Everything seems nominal. The ship is still on course, but you notice a slight deviation in the plotted jump coordinates. Maybe the computer auto-corrected for something, or maybe it's a sign of a larger issue.] As you review the data, a warning light flashes briefly but then disappears. A glitch? You hope so. What do you want to do next? [[Investigate the fluctuation in the auxiliary power system]] [[Run a diagnostic check on the communications system]] [[Check ship's weapon status]] [[Check the ship's exterior through the viewports]]

#### Bridge - Weapon's Console You move to the weapons board, but the only item lit is the sandcaster, indicating the system is ready for use. The other items listed, laser turret and missile turret, their ready lights are dark. In fact, as you look over the board the small screen next to the ready lights is displaying not installed for the two weapons, What next? [[Return to the navigation board]] [[***Move to the galley]] [[Read the job contract]] [[Jump to your next destination]]

####Galley Ah. here is the most important of all the ship's compartments; the galley. Although your cooking skills aren't what they should be, it's ok, as the galley cold storage offers several different items for your culinary delight. Despite the stories floating around in the vacuum about these pre-prepared meals, they really aren't bad. At least they are a far cry better than your your own gastonomic attempts. Upon serious consideration you make a mental note to go to culinary school. Yeah, that's the ticket! What next? [[Eat a meal]] [[Go to the cargo hold]] [[Go to Engineering]] [[Go to the Bridge]]

####Bridge - Navigation Console You move back to the navigation board, glancing at the ship’s current course and jump coordinates. Everything seems nominal, but you still can't shake the feeling something’s off... [[Jump to your next destination]] [[Move to the galley]] [[Set new course]] [[Check the system status again]]

You’ve spent the last few days fixing things around your starship, keeping your mind busy as you waited for this particular part of the journey to end. Despite the mystery surrounding the cargo, you didn’t feel tempted to peek. Or did you? A part of you wonders if you’ve truly kept your curiosity in check. [[While in transit, you go to the cargo hold.]] If not, then continue along. Maybe later. After seven days in jump space, the ship drops back into normal space. The destination set by the navigation program looms ahead. The system is made up of a G3 binary and a G5 binary, with the two stars separated by a quarter of a light-year. The smaller star orbits the larger one, which has two planets circling it. One of the moons of the outer planet emits a navigational beacon, transmitting steadily as you maneuver toward it. Your navigation computer, a Model1/bis, is indicating the direction toward the beacon. What do you want to do? [[Go to the cargo hold.]] [[Check the beacon’s signal more closely.]] [[Follow the beacon]]

####Bridge - Main Control Console You sit at the control panel and pull up the ship’s power distribution system. The main reactor is running smoothly, but the auxiliary power system is showing a slight fluctuation—a variance that's not big enough to cause concern but strange enough to catch your attention. You dig deeper into the diagnostics. The fluctuation appears to be in the secondary power relays, the ones that power non-essential systems like environmental monitoring and cargo hold sensors. A couple of red lines flash briefly on the screen—discrepancies between expected output and actual performance. A quick systems scan reveals that power is being siphoned, but there’s no obvious destination. The energy drain is subtle, masked by the normal fluctuations of the ship’s operations. You could easily miss it if you weren’t looking for it. As you consider your next move, a warning light blinks on the console for just a second before vanishing. What do you want to do next? [[Reroute auxiliary power through a different system to isolate the issue]] [[Check the cargo hold sensors to see if the power drain is related]] [[Ignore the fluctuation for now and return to the bridge]]

Upon entering the sealed hold, the first thing you notice is the relatively empty space. Other than a slightly bluish box sitting in the center of the hold, strapped down in place by two crisscrossing wide straps attached to some of the cleats located strategically on the deck. The cleats, usually flush with the cargo deck, can be easily popped up to secure cargo. The box isn’t large—maybe about the size of a standard storage crate—but the fact that it’s the only item in the hold makes it stand out even more. There’s a faint hum coming from it, almost imperceptible, but it’s there. A small control panel is embedded on one side, with no visible markings or labels. What do you want to do next? [[Inspect the box more closely.]] [[Check the ship's logs for information about the cargo.]] [[Leave the cargo hold and return to the bridge.]]

You input the command to reroute the auxiliary power. The system hums as it processes the request, diverting power away from the affected circuits and redistributing it through the backup relays. For a moment, everything looks normal. The fluctuations even out, and the power levels stabilize. But then something unexpected happens. The ship’s lights flicker briefly, and you notice that a secondary system—life support diagnostics—takes a slight dip in performance. It’s nothing critical, just a minor drop in efficiency. But still, that shouldn’t happen. You run another diagnostic, this time focusing on the rerouted power path. A faint, encrypted signal seems to be piggybacking on the auxiliary power lines. It’s subtle and well-hidden, but now that you’ve isolated the issue, it’s clear: someone, or something, has been drawing power for a purpose you don’t fully understand. The signal itself looks foreign—definitely not standard ship operations. There’s no obvious source, but the cargo hold’s monitoring system is pinging more frequently than usual. What do you want to do next? [[Trace the encrypted signal to find its source.]] [[Return to the cargo hold to investigate further.]] [[Shut down auxiliary power to stop the signal.]]

You key in the necessary commands to track the encrypted signal back to its source. The computer hesitates for a moment, as if it’s sifting through layers of buried code, but eventually, it starts tracing the origin. You watch the monitor closely as the signal’s path becomes clearer. It leads you through various subsystems: life support, ship communications, and even minor environmental controls. But something doesn’t add up—these systems don’t need that much power. Finally, the trail ends. The source of the signal seems to originate from a compartment deep within the engineering bay. It's not a place you typically check, but the computer pinpoints it precisely. What do you want to do next? [[Head to the engineering bay to investigate the compartment.]] [[Check the ship's manifest to see if this compartment is listed.]]

Your instincts tell you the fluctuation and the strange signal are somehow tied to the cargo. You make your way back to the hold, the eerie hum of the bluish box growing slightly louder as you approach. The straps holding the box are taut, but something feels different. A faint glow seeps from the edges of the box now, barely noticeable but unmistakable. You approach carefully, glancing at the control panel embedded in its side. The display has changed—it’s now showing a countdown timer. What do you want to do? [[Try to open the box.]] [[Leave the hold and return to the bridge.]]

You decide to shut down auxiliary power entirely, hoping it will stop the mysterious fluctuation and the hidden signal. You tap a few commands into the control panel, and the auxiliary power system begins to wind down. The ship's lights dim briefly before returning to full brightness as the main power systems take over. But as the auxiliary systems go offline, a warning alarm blares. The screen flashes a critical systems error—something deeper in the ship’s systems is malfunctioning. Just as you start to investigate, the cargo hold doors slam shut automatically. You hear the locks engage with a heavy clunk. What do you want to do? [[Try to override the locks on the cargo hold.]] [[Head to the cargo hold to check it out in person.]]

####Engineering You make your way to engineering, your boots echoing in the otherwise silent corridors. Reaching engineering puts you among the gargantuan machines that drive and maneuver the ship. You've seen these mechanical/electrical beasts countless times and you yet marvel at the immensity of these marvellous machines. Threading through the tight spaces in between the various drives, the compartment in question is hidden in a corner, behind some rarely-used maintenance equipment. It looks like a simple storage unit—nothing too conspicuous. But as you approach, you notice something strange: the panel has been tampered with. A small control pad blinks faintly, awaiting an access code. You didn’t know this compartment existed much less that it had a lock. What do you want to do? [[Attempt to hack the control pad]] [[Leave it alone and return to the bridge]]

You pull up the ship’s manifest on your datapad, scrolling through the detailed list of equipment, cargo, and compartments. The compartment isn’t listed anywhere. That’s unusual—every square inch of a ship like this is accounted for. The only way it wouldn’t be on the manifest is if it had been deliberately omitted. Could this have been done before you owned the ship? Or was it added secretly after you took the job? What do you want to do? [[Go to the compartment in engineering and investigate.]] [[Ignore it and focus on the mission.]]

####Engineering - Mysterious Control Pad You kneel in front of the control pad embedded in the compartment door. Its small screen blinks with a request for an access code. The panel looks well-worn, a sign that it’s seen its fair share of tampering or use. You decide to bypass the regular input and attempt to hack the system directly. ''(text-colour:yellow)[Roll for Success: ] ''Success: If you roll a 8 or higher on 2d6, you manage to hack the system and gain access to the compartment. Failure: If you roll below 8, something goes wrong, and you trigger an alarm or security system. (text-colour:magenta)[If you're certain this is what you want to do then proceed, otherwise return to the previous screen and chose another action.] [[Leave it alone and return to the bridge]] With sweat beading your brow, although your body is tembling from the tension, your hands are steady as the vaccuum of space, as you attempt to hack the panel Here goes.... [[Roll 2D6]]

You kneel by the box, examining the control panel more closely. The timer continues to tick down—three minutes left. With no instructions or labels, you can only guess what will happen when the timer hits zero. You reach for the panel, inputting a basic override code. The screen blinks but doesn’t respond. You realize you might only get one shot at opening this thing safely. What do you want to do? [[Continue trying to override the box’s lock.]] [[Back away and wait for the countdown to reach zero.]]

The countdown on the box’s display continues to tick down, and a sense of unease begins to settle over you. Whatever’s inside that box, it's best to deal with it from a distance. You quickly exit the cargo hold and make your way back to the bridge, your mind racing. As you sit in the pilot’s chair, the comm system beeps, interrupting your thoughts. An unknown signal is trying to reach you—a direct transmission from somewhere nearby. What do you want to do? [[Answer the transmission.]] [[Ignore it and focus on the cargo issue.]]

You reach for the comm panel and tap the button to accept the transmission. The screen flickers to life, showing a grainy image of a stern-faced individual in a dark, unfamiliar uniform. They seem calm but intense, their gaze locking onto yours as they begin to speak. "We know what you're carrying, and you're running out of time," they say without introduction. "You need to eject the cargo immediately. This isn't a negotiation—it's a matter of survival." The connection cuts out as quickly as it appeared, leaving you staring at the blank screen. Their message lingers, and the countdown on the box in the hold continues to tick down. The clock now reads two minutes. What do you want to do next? [[Follow their instructions and eject the cargo.]] [[Ignore the transmission and attempt to disarm the box yourself.]]

The transmission fades from your mind as you turn your focus back to the immediate problem: the box in the hold. Whatever was inside that communication, you aren’t ready to act on blind instructions from a faceless voice. You bring up the cargo hold’s internal sensors on the bridge console. The readings are strange—the box is generating a small but noticeable energy field, likely tied to the countdown. You realize it could be powering some kind of device or system, but its exact nature is unclear. A new warning flashes on your screen: Anomaly Detected in Cargo Hold. You barely have time to register the alert before another beep sounds, and the ship’s systems begin locking down various sections, sealing off the cargo hold and restricting access. It seems like the ship's own defense systems have interpreted the box as a threat. What do you want to do next? [[Attempt to override the ship’s lockdown protocols.]] [[Abandon the cargo and focus on self-preservation.]]

The ship's computer resists your initial attempt to override the locks. It's almost as if someone—or something—anticipated your actions. After a moment, the console gives you a series of security prompts that you’ve never seen before. What do you want to do? [[Attempt to bypass the security prompts manually.]] [[Abort and focus on other systems.]]

You rush toward the cargo hold, hoping to manually override the locks from the inside. When you arrive, the door is sealed shut with a heavy metallic clang. You hear a faint whirring sound from within the hold, and the vibrations coming from the door make it clear that something inside is active. The ship's internal sensors flash a brief warning on your wrist terminal: "Unknown activity detected in Cargo Hold." What do you want to do? [[Attempt to force open the cargo hold doors.]] [[Return to the bridge to assess the situation remotely.]]

You rush to the cargo control panel and initiate the sequence to eject the box into space. The ship’s systems come to life, warning lights flashing as the hold depressurizes and the bay doors slowly open. You hear the mechanical clunk of the cargo clamps releasing as the box is jettisoned into the void. You watch the screen as the cargo drifts away, the countdown still ticking away on its display. Just as the timer hits zero, the box flashes bright white, a brief explosion illuminating the surrounding space. The ship shakes slightly from the distant shockwave. Whatever was in that box, it’s gone now. What do you want to do next? [[Try to contact the mysterious transmission again.]] [[Continue toward your original destination in hopes of getting some answers.]]

The stranger’s warning echoes in your mind, but something about it seems off. You can’t just eject the cargo without knowing more, and there’s no telling who they were or if you can trust them. You head back to the cargo hold and approach the box, now showing less than a minute on the timer. Taking a deep breath, you pull out a portable tools kit and set to work on the control panel. The wiring is intricate but not impossible to decode. Sweat beads on your forehead as you carefully detach a small fuse, cutting power to the box. The hum stops. The timer halts at 00:03. You’ve disarmed it—at least for now. What next? [[Try to open the box now that it's disarmed.]] [[Return to the bridge and run a deeper scan on the box.]]

You quickly pull up the security system on your terminal, fingers flying across the keys as you try to override the ship’s lockdown. The interface fights back, showing resistance that shouldn’t be there. The ship’s systems seem to be in some kind of autopilot, possibly triggered by the power surge from the box. After several failed attempts, you realize that the lockdown was programmed specifically to respond to anomalies. Whoever programmed it knew what they were doing, and it’s going to take more than a few standard overrides to regain control. You’ll need to either bypass the system physically or find a way to reset the ship’s mainframe. What do you want to do next? [[Head to the ship’s computer core to reset the mainframe.]] [[Try a manual override on the cargo hold doors in person.]]

Your mind races, weighing the risks. There’s no time to play hero—you need to survive. Whatever’s happening with the cargo is beyond your control, and if the ship's systems are reacting this strongly, it might already be too late. You rush to the ship’s escape pod and prepare to eject. As you initiate the launch sequence, the ship sends a final warning message: Escape Pod Deployment Initiating: All Unsecured Cargo Will Be Jettisoned. You hit the confirmation button without hesitation. The escape pod detaches from the ship, leaving you adrift in space. Through the small viewport, you watch as the ship automatically jettisons the cargo into space. Moments later, a massive explosion lights up the void, the shockwave gently rocking your escape pod. You’re alive—but barely. What do you want to do next? [[Attempt to send a distress signal.]] [[Wait to see if someone finds you.]]

Name: Kale Renn Race/Gender: Human/Male UPP: 797986 (Strength 7, Dexterity 9, Endurance 7, Intelligence 9, Education 8, Social Standing 6) Age: 34 Career: Scout (4 terms) Rank: Scout Rank 2 (Mid-level rank in the Scout Service) Skills: //Pilot 1:// Kale is a proficient pilot, able to handle his ship under most conditions. //Navigation 1:// Skilled in charting courses and navigating through space. Vacc Suit 1: Trained in the use of spacesuits, critical for dangerous environments. //Astrogation 1:// Capable of calculating jump routes, reducing the risk of misjumps. //Sensors 1: //Expert in operating ship sensors for long-range reconnaissance. //Engineering 1:// Able to maintain and repair starship systems during long missions. //Gun Combat 1: //Trained in basic firearms for self-defense. //Recon 1:// Skilled in surveying and scouting new areas, perfect for exploration missions. Equipment: Scout Ship: 100-ton Nebulous Eye (on loan from the Imperial Scout Service) Vacc Suit: Standard issue for space and hazardous conditions. Personal Sidearm: For defensive purposes. Portable Toolkit: For on-the-go ship repairs. Data Pad: For astrogation, navigation, and sensor operations. ------------------------------------------------------------------- Ship Name: "Nebulous Eye" Type: 100-ton Scout/Courier Description: The Stellar Scout is a 100-ton Scout/Courier vessel, designed primarily for exploration, reconnaissance, and courier missions across the galaxy. This ship is a staple of the Scout Service and is often given to retired scouts who continue their personal missions or freelance work. Built for long-distance travel, the Stellar Scout is equipped with the basics to handle a wide variety of environments, allowing the pilot and crew to operate independently for extended periods. Though unarmed, the ship’s speed, sensor systems, and maneuverability make it a reliable vessel for getting into—and out of—hostile situations. Its primary defense is a single sandcaster turret, which is enough to defend against some lasers, but the ship relies on its agility to avoid larger, more powerful opponents. ''Stats (Classic Traveller):'' 100 / 2 / 2 / 2 / 1bis / 40 / 3 / MCr36 / 1S Hull Size: 100 tons Hull Points: 12 Armor: None (basic hull) Jump Drive: Jump-2 (can jump up to 2 parsecs) Maneuver Drive: Thrust-2 (providing decent acceleration and mobility) Power Plant: Power Plant-2 (provides power for the ship’s systems) Computer: Model/1bis (an enhanced Model 1) Fuel Capacity: 40 tons (enough for one Jump-2 and four weeks of operations) Cargo Capacity: 3 tons (the rest is taken up by fuel and systems) Crew: 1 or 2 (Scout ships can be run by a single scout but may have space for an assistant) Passengers: 2 staterooms, typically for a small crew or guests. Life Support: Supports up to 4 people for up to 4 weeks. Systems: ''Bridge'': A compact, efficient control center that houses the ship's primary systems for piloting, navigation, communications, and sensors. ''Sensors:'' Advanced long-range sensors designed for scouting missions. These sensors are capable of detecting ships, stellar objects, and other phenomena at extended ranges. The Scout’s sensors are its most important tool when exploring unknown systems. ''Fuel Scoops:'' The ship is equipped with fuel scoops, allowing it to refuel by skimming gas giants or stellar coronas. This enables it to operate independently without needing to dock at starports frequently. ''Fuel Purification:'' A built-in fuel purification system converts raw hydrogen collected by the fuel scoops into usable fuel, though the process takes time. ''Defense:'' Single Sandcaster Turret: This defense system allows for the creation of a sand cloud around the ship, weakening incoming laser fire. Ship Layout: ''Bridge: ''The command center of the ship, housing all the necessary systems for piloting and navigation. ''Crew Quarters: ''Two small staterooms, suitable for a pilot and a co-pilot or passengers. These are basic but sufficient for long-term voyages. ''Cargo Hold'': The cargo hold is small, at only 3 tons, allowing for minimal supplies or mission-specific cargo. ''Fuel Tanks:'' A significant portion of the ship is dedicated to fuel storage, enough for a Jump-2 and daily operations. ''Engineering: ''Housing the ship’s Jump Drive, Maneuver Drive, and Power Plant. ''Turret:'' The sandcaster turret is located on top of the ship, providing a single defensive measure. Performance: ''Jump Capability:'' Jump-2 (up to 2 parsecs per jump). The ship can travel long distances in a single jump, making it suitable for exploration and reconnaissance across interstellar distances. ''Maneuvering:'' Thrust-2, giving the ship better-than-average maneuverability compared to most 100-ton vessels. This makes it capable of quick getaways, fine-tuned course adjustments, and dodging potential threats. ''Endurance'': With life support for 4 people and fuel scoops, the Stellar Scout can remain operational for extended periods without needing to dock at a starport. It’s ideal for missions in deep space or surveying distant systems. Operational Role: The Stellar Scout is designed for long-term exploration and courier missions. Scouts can use this ship to map star systems, conduct scientific research, or deliver vital information across vast distances. Its Jump-2 drive and advanced sensors make it invaluable for charting unknown sectors of space, while its modest cargo hold can carry essential supplies or small trade goods. Strengths: Long-Range Capabilities: With Jump-2 and fuel scoops, the ship can travel far without needing frequent stops at starports. Advanced Sensors: Ideal for exploration, scanning, and mapping systems. Highly Maneuverable: Its Thrust-2 capability makes it nimble, allowing it to avoid conflict or navigate tricky environments. Self-Sustaining: The ability to refuel from gas giants or stars makes it highly independent. Weaknesses: Limited Firepower: Only equipped with a single laser turret, it’s not built for combat and relies on speed and stealth rather than fighting ability. Minimal Cargo: With just 3 tons of cargo space, it’s not designed for hauling large quantities of goods. Small Crew: The limited crew size can restrict operations during longer missions or in hostile territory.

####Engineering - Mysterious Storage Panel You attempt to hack the control pad, but after a few seconds, the screen flashes red, and an alarm blares through the corridor. The panel locks you out, and a mechanical clunk indicates that additional security measures have been activated. You hear the ship’s systems start to hum as the internal defenses prepare to engage. You’ve tripped a security system, and now you have limited time before things get worse. That didn't go as expected. What next? [[Try to shut down the alarm manually from the engineering bay.]] [[Return to the bridge and override the security system remotely.]]

####Engineering - Mysterious Storage Panel The control pad gives a faint beep as you bypass its security. The screen flickers for a moment before displaying a simple message: Access Granted. The compartment door slides open with a quiet hiss, revealing a small, concealed storage unit. Inside, you find a sleek, black device—about the size of a briefcase—sitting on a secured platform. It’s unlike anything you’ve seen before: smooth, metallic, and completely featureless, with no markings to indicate its purpose. However, a small indicator light flashes faintly on one side, showing that the device is powered. What next? [[Examine the device more closely.]] [[Take the device back to the bridge to analyze it]] [[Leave the device and return to the bridge.]]''''

####Bridge - Main Control Console You decide to take the device with you, carefully removing it from its platform and securing it in a small case. As you make your way back to the bridge, you feel a slight unease. Whatever this thing is, it’s clearly important—and possibly dangerous. When you reach the bridge, you begin running scans on the device, using the ship’s more advanced systems to analyze its components. After a few moments, the scanner returns an unexpected result: Unidentified Signal Detected. The device appears to be emitting a low-frequency signal, and it’s transmitting to somewhere beyond the ship. Before you can react, a voice crackles over the ship’s communication system: “We’ve found you.” What next? [[Respond]] [[Try to trace the signal’s source]] [[Attempt to jam the signal and cut communication]] [[Prepare for evasive maneuvers and get out of the system]]

####Interlude: Here goes Nothing! (set: $roll to (random: 1, 6) + (random: 1, 6)) You rolled a $roll. (if: $roll <= 7) [(link: "Failure 1")[(goto: "Failure 1")] ] (else:) [(link: "Success 1")[(goto: "Success 1")] ]

###Escape! You survive, but you fail to drop off the package and retrieve the next one. Your reputation is tarnished, and your employer—faceless and unforgiving—is bound to be furious. Maybe you can reason with them? After all, who could have predicted such an outcome? Right? Returning to the system where the original package was picked up, you attempt to explain the circumstances of your failure. Yet again, you’re met not with a person, but with that same cold, disembodied voice. As you begin your explanation, it cuts through your words with a chilling reminder:'' Failure leads to consequences''. And not completing the mission is failure. There’s no compassion, no negotiation. The weight of their words tightens your chest as you realize—there’s no way out of this. So, you run. You plot a course for the nearest Imperial system, though it’s several jumps away. Supplies are limited—you estimate you can survive on half rations for a month and a half, perhaps a little longer if you’re lucky. Fuel isn’t a problem; the gas giants scattered along your route will keep your ship’s tanks topped up. You convince yourself that once you cross into Imperial space, you’ll be beyond your employer’s reach. Whoever they are—whatever shadowy organization they represent—they surely don’t have the kind of influence to breach Imperial borders. Right? And yet, the feeling lingers. That gnawing, uncomfortable sensation that you’re being watched. You check your sensors—nothing. You’ve reduced your ship’s signature to almost zero, hiding in the vastness of space. But still, the unease clings to you. Your nerves are frayed, and you brush it off as guilt, that creeping voice in the back of your mind reminding you that you failed. Then it happens. An old Solomani frigate appears out of nowhere, tearing into real space with a violent flare. Before you can react, its turreted particle beam fires, a searing lance of energy that rips through your ship’s hull and disables your drives. Your fingers fumble on the controls, but evasive maneuvers are useless. You’re dead in the water. Drifting helplessly, you watch as a ship’s boat launches from the frigate, heading straight for your crippled vessel. Three figures in combat armor board your scout ship with cold efficiency. They move like predators, precise and silent. You barely have time to register what’s happening before they grab you, stripping you down with methodical indifference. There’s no time for resistance—bare skin against combat armor is no contest. They march you to the airlock at the rear of your ship, ignoring your panicked pleas and frantic attempts to fight them off. Without a word, they shove you into the airlock. Your heart pounds as the inner door seals shut, trapping you in the small chamber. Panic floods your veins. You promise them anything if they'll let you go! And they remain silent, you pound on the walls in mounting terror, but it’s no use. The outer hatch hisses, and the air begins to escape. You feel the violent suction as the atmosphere is torn from your lungs. Pain strikes immediately as the cold of the void bites into your exposed skin. Your body begins to freeze, the agony overwhelming. Worse is the lack of air—your mind races as you try to remember if you’re supposed to hold your breath. You inhale a final, desperate lungful just as the hatch blows open, and the vacuum of space violently expels you from the airlock. Your lungs rupture in an instant. The air inside expands uncontrollably, your chest collapsing from the pressure. The nitrogen in your blood begins to boil, forcing your body to swell grotesquely. You try to scream, but your ruined lungs can no longer function. All that escapes is a pitiful puff of vapor as the last of your breath is pulled from your mouth. Your vision blurs as your eyes open wide from the pain, the moisture freezing into delicate crystals on your lashes. Your last sight is your scout ship, now a lifeless silhouette against the stars, growing distant as you drift away. The freezing cold rushes over you, numbing your body, but it’s too late. Your arms and legs swell like grotesque balloons, locking your joints and preventing even the slightest movement. You try to hold onto consciousness, but the lack of oxygen mercifully pulls you toward oblivion. Your last thought before the darkness swallows you whole is a strange one: those armored figures never said a word to you. And so, as promised, you've been hunted down, made into an example for the next fool who thinks they can run. But you’re no longer aware of that, because your naked, lifeless body is now a frozen husk, drifting slowly toward the gravitational pull of an uncharted sun. In a thousand years, you’ll burn up in its fiery embrace—a final end to a silent, forgotten story.

####Bridge - Communication Console You swing over to the comms console, putting incoming transmissions on speaker, before responding, "Unknown ship, this is Nebulous Eye. Who are you? Do you need assistance? Over" After a brief pause, the speaker crackles with signal, "Shut down all systems and prepare to be boarded!" Surprised by the demand you automatically reply in the negative. A moment later a new voice, growling with fury, yells, "We are the Quantas Dominion! YOU WILL OBEY! OR ELSE YOU'LL BE DESTROYED!" You hear the click of the comm signal shutting off. What next? [[Check the computer for an organization called the "Quantas Dominion"]] [[Attempt to re-establish communication with the unknow ship]] [[Prepare for battle]] [[Evade continuously]] [[Prepare for evasive maneuvers and get out of the system]]

Within seconds the computer chimes, ready with an answer. Since you configured the computer to speech, in case you didn't have an opportunity to read the computer screen, it begins reciting what it has discovered, in a soft female contralto. "The Quantas Dominion is a small but ruthless pirate organization operating in the Neither Region of the Dark Nebula sector, where law enforcement is weak and opportunities for piracy thrive. They specialize in using heavily modified freighters to transport smaller attack ships, like cutters, to their hunting grounds. These freighters appear unassuming but carry dangerous surprises for their victims. Once the target is identified, the cutters are deployed swiftly to ambush small cargo vessels, particularly those traveling alone or in poorly defended convoys. ''Tactics and Operations:'' //Stealth and Deception:// The freighters used by the Quantas Dominion often pose as legitimate cargo haulers or mining vessels. Their civilian appearance allows them to move undetected through heavily trafficked areas until they reach their target zone. Once there, the cutters are released from concealed bays to strike quickly and decisively. //Hit-and-Run Raids: //The Quantas pirates rely on speed and surprise. Their cutters—small, fast attack craft—quickly close in on targets, disable the engines or critical systems, and board the vessel to seize its cargo. The attacks are brief, with minimal engagement to avoid alerting nearby forces. //Brutality and Intimidation:// After stripping ships of their valuable cargo, the Quantas Dominion pirates are known for spacing the crew—ejecting them into space as a warning to other traders. This brutal tactic spreads fear among the shipping lanes, discouraging resistance and minimizing future conflicts. //Supply Lines and Safe Havens:// The Quantas Dominion’s freighters return to hidden bases scattered throughout the Dark Nebula sector. These bases are located in remote asteroid fields or nebula clouds, providing natural cover from sensors and patrols. They maintain a network of black-market contacts to sell stolen cargo and purchase supplies. ''Fleet Composition:'' //Freighters:// These ships serve as mobile bases, transporting cutters and storing stolen goods. They are lightly armed but heavily armored to protect against retaliatory strikes. //Cutters//: Small, fast, and agile, cutters are outfitted with laser turrets, missile launchers, or particle beam weapons to disable and board ships quickly. They usually carry small boarding crews armed for close-quarters combat. Support Ships: Occasionally, the Quantas Dominion employs specialized vessels, such as scouts or sensor jammers, to provide early warnings of enemy movements or create temporary blind spots in enemy sensors. ''Leadership and Structure:'' The Quantas Dominion operates under a loosely hierarchical system. It is rumored that the leadership consists of former military officers turned pirates, with a council of captains making collective decisions on large-scale operations. Each captain has significant autonomy over their ship and crew, though they are expected to adhere to the Dominion’s brutal code of conduct. ''Territorial Control:'' Their influence in the Dark Nebula is growing, with the Quantas Dominion exerting control over several shipping lanes and forcing traders to pay protection fees or risk attack. Their territory is difficult to patrol due to the dense nebulae, asteroid fields, and stellar anomalies in the region, making it a perfect haven for pirates. ''Potential Conflict with Local Governments:'' The Quantas Dominion's piracy activities put them at direct odds with local governments and trade organizations in the Dark Nebula sector. As they gain notoriety for attacking cargo ships, governments become increasingly pressured to intervene, especially as trade disruptions begin to harm local economies. ''Escalation:'' //Local Forces Mobilize:// Planets and systems reliant on trade may pool resources to hire mercenary fleets or deploy system defense forces to patrol vital shipping lanes. //Retaliation:// A coalition of planetary navies could be formed to actively hunt down Quantas bases and intercept their operations. However, the nebula’s dense regions make pursuing the pirates difficult. //Political Maneuvering: //Some corrupt officials might be tempted to turn a blind eye in exchange for bribes, complicating efforts to fight the Quantas Dominion. Meanwhile, trade corporations could lobby for military support from larger interstellar powers, escalating the conflict. //Skirmishes and Blockades: //As both sides engage in open skirmishes, blockades around critical systems might form, with pirates retaliating by targeting key defense outposts or mining operations. ''Key Challenges:'' //Navigational Hazards:// The Dark Nebula provides natural cover for pirate operations, making it difficult for local governments to maintain a presence. //Resource Drain:// The costs of maintaining patrol fleets and defensive measures might strain the limited resources of local governments, leading to potential desperation tactics like bounty hunting. This escalating conflict could destabilize the region, forcing governments to make tough choices in their fight against the Quantas Dominion’s growing influence." "That's all that is available at this time. Would you like to make another query?" After responding in the negative to the computer's question you begin thinking. Based on your experience as a scout and what stories you've heard from Navy personnal of the Imperial warships, there are a few tricks you can try against these pirates. Things they probably won't expect. What next? [[Go to battle]] [[Try hailing the pirates]]

<<set $kalePilotingSkill to 2>> <<set $evasionRoll to (random: 2, 12) + $kalePilotingSkill>> /* 2d6 + piloting skill */ <<if $evasionRoll > 10>> /* Success threshold for evasion */ You skillfully dodge the cutter's laser fire, avoiding damage. <<else>> The cutter’s laser scores a direct hit! <<set $laserDamageRoll to (random: 3, 18)>> <<set $damageDealt to max(0, $laserDamageRoll - $scoutArmor)>> <<set $scoutHull to $scoutHull - $damageDealt>> Your remaining hull: $scoutHull. <<endif>> <<set $attackRoll to (random: 2, 12) + $kalePilotingSkill>> /* 2d6 + piloting skill */ <<if $attackRoll > 8>> /* Success threshold for an attack */ Your sandcaster disperses the cloud perfectly, striking the cutter! <<set $sandcasterDamageRoll to (random: 2, 12)>> <<set $damageDealt to max(0, $sandcasterDamageRoll - $cutterArmor)>> <<set $cutterHull to $cutterHull - $damageDealt>> Cutter's remaining hull: $cutterHull. <<else>> Your sandcaster fails to hit the cutter effectively. <<endif>>