TEST DRIVE MEME #1

[space_aces]

WHERE ANGELS FEAR TO TREAD

Your journey only happened because of your benefactor, so it begets that it starts at your benefactor as well. SUPERBIA, which is as much of a location as it is an entity, is where everyone's search for Fortuna begins.

There's not much of a welcome party: shortly after their fateful encounter with SUPERBIA, in which they swore to join the quest to find Fortuna, the new Privateers will find themselves afflicted by a sudden change in perspective. See, teleportation is a tricky process, so from SUPERBIA's point of view, why not make the target destination none other than itself? One highly disconcerting moment later, and the Privateers find themselves inside the belly of the beast.

The vast mega-structure is shockingly lonely, void of anyone other than the Privateers. Those who look off the metal satellite and to The Network for intelligence (or take a skim at the Space Wikipedia article) will find out that the surrounding space is clear for lightyears; rumors have it that the place is cursed. It won't take long to understand why.

1

Overclocked

The innards of SUPERBIA are that of an impossibly scaled up computer, and the Privateers start right in the middle of it. You are the spider living in the dusty PS4. Literal rivers of coolant, transistors the size of mountains, landscapes made entirely of circuitry. The sky, bounded by a distant metal ceiling, is constantly alight with coursing electricity that cracks the sky with lightning storms. It can be assumed that the Privateers are the first living things to set foot here, because such a place is not ever meant to be traversed by delicate, organic, mortals that worry about things such as "temperature" or "voltage". SUPERBIA needs not lifeforms to continue its operations; why design for them? Traversal itself is difficult: unscalable walls and perilous drops are common to encounter. The only company the Privateers will find are oddly adorable maintenance robots, which sadly seem too occupied by their directives of maintaining the massive machine to offer any assistance (or even acknowledgement of their new guests).

It is immediately clear that the most urgent priority is to get the hell out of here. Before your adventure ends at the starting line.

2

Skeletons In The Closet

If one stays inside SUPERBIA, either by getting horribly lost or losing all common sense, one will notice a peculiar pattern emerge as one gets deeper into the bowels of the mega-structure. Passages shrink and become more level, and the incredible hostility and danger of the surroundings fade away, until one comes across areas which were definitely intended for humanoid organisms to use at one point.

The construction of these areas is cramped, unfurnished, and dreary; they are reminiscent of artificial environments meant to handle harsh external conditions like a submarine or bunker, but they are entirely livable. One can eventually find distinct rooms, but everything in them has crumbled to dust and their original purpose is nigh impossible to discern. Deeper investigation may reveal the few items that have stood the test of time. While it is more plausible for life to have existed here, that doesn't seem to be the case now. What happened here?

3

The Shipyard

In the opposite direction, when one finally reaches the outer edges of SUPERBIA, they will be rewarded with the place to pick up a spaceship and a stunningly beautiful view of outer space. The outside of SUPERBIA has no atmosphere to get between you and the stars, and they shine brightly, like a beacon calling one out into the first steps of adventure.

The shipyard is already filled with countless space ships of every size, form, and function, all autonomously constructed by SUPERBIA's factories over the countless years. What's the harm in taking one or twenty out for a spin? Even if one has no intentions of permanent ownership of the vehicle, it's not like SUPERBIA will miss it. For a Privateer with a more specific vision, however, there are kiosks around the yard which will allow one to design their very own space ship down to their exact specifications. When the process is done SUPERBIA's matter printers will have it out and space-ready right before your very eyes.

If a Privateer has a ship, vehicle, or large item that they intended to bring with them, they will also find them here, neatly parked in the Shipyard. Why didn't SUPERBIA extend this courtesy to the pilot's themselves? The answer is revealed as soon as the owner makes a closer inspection: the inner contents have been rearranged, like a whirlwind was unleashed inside and assorted loose items thrown around. Now aren't you glad your transportation was given special attention, and the same didn't happen to your innards?

4

Hot Crewmates in Your Area

But how will a single Privateer man an entire space ship? No worries: when one steps into a ship, the strangely endearing maintenance robots will suddenly take acute interest. The robots will follow inside and immediately start assuming the duties of a spacefarer, eliminating the need for extra hands on deck.

Even still, there's just no eliminating the want for a human touch, though. Thankfully even that dilemma has a contingency plotted by SUPERBIA.

Communication devices are easily available on every space ship. They come in all shapes and sizes, ranging from huge stationary consoles to portable smartphone-like screens. But whenever a Privateer attempts to access the Network, a pop-up will appear, obscuring the whole screen.

Tell me a little about yourself. Are you a LEADER or a FOLLOWER? What is your best feature?
The device will be rendered unusable until one relents to the pop-up's demands and provides answers to its questions. What will these be used for? The mystery will be solved when a social media app mysteriously installs itself on the same device, with profiles preemptively made for every Privateer. Each Privateer's profile consists of their given answers, paired with embarrassingly candid photographs. SUPERBIA has eyes in many places it seems.

Comments

Ari Tayrey | original character (SF)

[astrogator]

ii. Skeletons in the Closet

[This place reminds Lieutenant Arilanna Tayrey of nothing more than the innards of an antiquated, long-deserted ship. One of the slow ships, from centuries back. She’s not fazed by the bare grey walls, or the empty rooms, and she strides along as if with some purpose. As if she knows exactly what she’s doing.

She doesn’t.

Still, she might find something useful if she keeps looking. Some record, designed to last. A message. That’s her hope, at any rate. In the meantime, walking the corridors is helping her to get her bearings. Ari’s an astrogator, with an astrogator’s sense of direction, and she has – arbitrarily, out of necessity – designated one direction forward so that she can start to mentally chart the area.

It's a pleasant surprise to turn a corner and find she’s not alone.]

I wonder how old all this is. It isn’t exactly what I was expecting.


iii. The Shipyard

[Ari gasps when she first takes in the sight of the shipyard. She has never seen one so large or so varied, not even in-system among the central worlds. Some of them are vast, beyond the wildest dreams of any aspirant Tradeliner. Some are armed to the teeth. Some seem to make use of materials or technologies she can’t even guess at. Yes, she’s very out-of-sector now.

Can she really choose any one that she wants? Despite what she was told before agreeing to all this, in the moment it simply doesn’t seem real. Ari’s a lieutenant astrogator with all of six months’ seniority, why would anyone want her for this mission?

She stands there for a moment, a motionless figure in her bright blue Tradeliner uniform, and then she glances over her shoulder, looking to her closest companion.]

So what do you think? What’s the catch?

iv. Crewmates

[Ari chooses a portable device. It might not be exactly like her slate computer from back on her last ship, but it's damn close. The questions make her roll her eyes, but she taps out quick answers.]

[Tell me a little about yourself.]
Lieutenant Arilanna Tayrey, of the Tradelines, lately second astrogator on the TS Prosperity.

[Are you a LEADER or a FOLLOWER?]
My ambition is to lead, but I do what's necessary. I can take orders, and I can give them. No trouble. Everything runs smoothly when there's a clear line of command.

[What is your best feature?]
I'm very competent.

[The sight of the accompanying photograph makes her scowl. That is not a flattering angle. That had better not be what they publish on the newsnets in the event of her (heroic? hopefully heroic) death out here.]

III

[freearcadia]

Aside from putting our trust in the AI not to turn on us once we find the treasure it's looking for, we're probably going to be thrown into situations where angels fear to tread.

[Answers the man that's walking from the long blue spaceship with the back end of what looked like a 16th century earth galleon, resting a hand on his hip]

Re: III

[astrogator]

[It's a reasonable enough answer, a reasonable enough suspicion. She nods.]

It's always dangerous out in the black, but you're right. Nobody finances something like this just to let one of us fly away with the big prize. Any AI worthy of the name is going to know that we know that, too.

[And yet, here they all are.

She can't help but notice that ship of his; one of the more unusual ones, to her eyes. She gestures towards it.]

Did you bring that one with you, or choose it here?

Re: III

[freearcadia]

Anyone in a position of power can easily go back of their word - human, machine man or AI. But - I think we all had our curiosity piqued by the offer.

[He follows her gesture]

Yes, that is mine - the Arcadia, there is no other like her in the known galaxy.

[astrogator]

[Ari nods. She has her own reasons for being here, and they don't all relate to winning the prize.]

We did. Anyone who didn't, wouldn't have come this far. I suppose we have to hope that the contract holds out until the end, and then whichever of us finds this Fortuna will have to have their wits about them.

[She takes a moment to admire the Arcadia.]

I've certainly never seen anything like her. It'll be an advantage, flying a ship you know well. I haven't chosen yet.

[Designing her own is tempting, but she's unsure. Is it obscenely decadent, when there's so much choice already? Or has she been gawping at the shipyard much like an isolated frontierswoman would at a line-intersecting station, refusing to take the opportunity before her?]

[freearcadia]

Yes - and that the Fortuna doesn't turned out to be a poisoned apple.

First time commanding a ship of your own?

[He asked quietly, he had noticed she was spending a considerable time looking around]

iii.

[retributing]

[ Gaelio, in a uniform of his own (sans helmet and mask), is currently awaiting his own starship. He hadn't expected his kiosk order to be built custom, given one might reasonably expect it to take months— but he is watching the process with interest. Still, he turns to the woman nearby with a friendly, if slight smile. ]

Who knows? [ He glances to the view of the stars overhead as he considers the many morbid options: ] There is no Fortuna and this is some grand farce for the purpose of misdirection or sabotage or destruction; or if Fortuna does exist, whoever gets there first will be destroyed so SUPERBIA - or whomever is behind SUPERBIA - can take it for themselves. The first is more likely, I think. [ He seems decidedly casual about that, given he also obviously signed up for this. ] What are you placing your bets on?

[astrogator]

[The construction process is quite remarkable, even if it seems wasteful to Ari, building new ships when so many fine ones are sitting unused. It's all relative, though. Her expectation had been that she'd be saving up her profits in the hope that in a decade or so she could buy a second-hand ship of her own. This shipyard? It's wealth beyond the imagining of even the most successful Company worlds.

She doesn't recognise the man's uniform, but in a way it's reassuring nonetheless. She's not the only one who had a legitimate spacer career before signing up for this.]

I think that there is a Fortuna, but it isn't the miracle we're being told it is, all things to all people. It's something that SUPERBIA [or the people behind it; she hadn't thought of that but it's perfectly plausible now that he says it] wants, and needs us to get, and is absolutely going to try to take from whomever is successful.

[She doesn't seem terribly concerned about the prospect either, and grins at him.] I'm up for a wager on it if you are.

[retributing]

[ Unfortunately Gaelio Bauduin is a rich bastard, and 'wasteful' doesn't really figure into his thoughts when it comes to creating technology. He has very exacting specifications he requires, ok? (Although 'exacting' here means he basically replicated something familiar to him from home, because while he's been on space battleships before, he's no engineer. Also the Ahab Wave Reactors he's familiar with don't have the speed to quickly travel to different star systems. Earth to Mars alone takes weeks.)

Gaelio's smile widens for the woman's cheery pessimism, and he offers a hand to shake on it. ] Good luck to us both, then. I'm Gaelio Bauduin, by the way.

[astrogator]

[She shakes his hand firmly. An informal sort of wager, then. She's happy with that, and when he introduces himself, she greets him as is typical for her people.]

Peace and prosperity to you, Citizen Bauduin! Yes, may probability shine on us both. [Maybe on her a little more than on him, if she has any say in it.] My name is Arilanna Tayrey. I'm a lieutenant of the Tradelines.

[She's still using the present tense. You can be a lieutenant of the Tradelines and a privateer at the same time, can't you?]

What did you do, before your arrival here?

[retributing]

[ That's fair, they're all out for their own gains. No hard feelings. (Yet.)

Gaelio is hardly a normal citizen, so the greeting is a curious one, though he doesn't show it. He's used to all sorts by now, and diplomacy is a part of Gjallarhorn's directive - and thus, his upbringing. ]

Specialist Major, of Gjallarhorn's Inspection Bureau, and mobile suit pilot. [ It's outdated, though not exactly inaccurate, but Rustal Elion's vision of a new Gjallarhorn has made his standing somewhat obsolete. Gaelio has made himself useful when helpful or required, but to offer his old title is the most succinct way to explain himself to a stranger. ]

I have not heard of the Tradelines; is that part of the Jupiter Sphere? Or... beyond? [ He's met people by now that are from at least other time periods, if not other worlds entirely. But despite getting teleported into a super computer the size of a moon, assuming that people are from another time or universe will take some adjustment. ]

iii!!!

[jumpedship]

The 'catch' is that, very clearly, none of this could possibly be real.

( maybe laenor's dead, or maybe he's deep within a drunken stupor, because he isn't possibly putting it to his own dreams or imagination. this is far beyond anything that anyone in his time could think up.

the seven kingdoms haven't even come around to electricity; he has no word to even begin to describe the world he's found himself in. )

Along with that, we could never be allowed to stay here. A test from the Gods, it must be.

[astrogator]

[She gives him a careful, searching look. He seems to be voicing the very same concerns that she'd never speak aloud. That they aren't skilled enough for this. That in selecting them, SUPERBIA made a mistake.

Of course, that's pure projection on Ari's part, but she's entirely unaware of it.]

It doesn't seem real at all. I've never seen a shipyard on a scale that even came close to this.

[But it is real, and if Ari can reassure herself, she can reassure him as well. It doesn't matter that they're technically rival competitors, because it should at least be a fair competition.] It'll be a trial, I don't doubt that - but you're here for a reason. Why shouldn't you stay? You wouldn't have been invited if you didn't have a chance of success.

[jumpedship]

This? This is no shipyard. Ships are... sturdily built, wooden, with bows and sails. These.... things. They are otherworldly. Unholy, even.

( not that laenor has ever considered himself terribly devout, but these 'ships' aren't something that look even remotely close to normal by his standards.

to her credit, he does seem to be warmed by her enthusiasm, though no less wary. )

I am a dragonrider. I've no place on something sails the skies that is not a dragon.

[astrogator]

[Ari's eyes widen. If she felt unprepared for this, as a recently-qualified spacer lieutenant, how much worse must it be when you're from a world that... well, it went beyond isolated old-frontier colony if he wasn't even familiar with space travel. This was practically first contact.]

Otherworldly is right, but there isn't anything to fear from them. These are starships, and when you're sailing between the stars, wood and canvas won't hold up. You need metal, and an engine to power them, although - look there! [She points towards a distant ship with resplendent solar sails, the light glinting brightly off them.] They can have sails. After a fashion.

[As eager as she is to introduce him to the wonder that is spacefaring society, she can hardly ignore that other claim of his.] You ride a dragon? As in, a giant flying lizard? [The words might be flippant, but Ari's curious, not dismissive.]

[jumpedship]

Starships...

( he says it slowly, incredulous, as he looks out on the sea of, well, just that. he couldn't find a better word to describe them if he tried. the concept, placed in those terms, makes perfect sense. he even finds himself nodding. sea ships sail across the narrow sea to chart paths and find unexplored lands; starships must do the same, but within space.

he laughs, breathless. )

Stars. Will the wonders ever cease?

I suppose after discovering all there is to discover among the Seven Kingdoms and the Riverlands, the lords must find something to conquer. But the stars themselves? ...Do we really have a claim to the Heavens in this way?

( that's perhaps a larger question than he'd meant to propose. answering hers will likely be much easier. he smiles. two different worlds, clearly. everyone back home knows what a dragon is. )

They do look like lizards to some, if your lizard was as large as servant's quarter with wings twice as wide.

iii.

[strewth]

John is smoking a cigarette, fiddling with his phone, and wondering where he can get a decent kebab, when a reasonably clean woman asks him his opinion. These things don't happen every day, though the light doesn't exactly flare in John's eyes with wonder. He has an image to maintain, and it's one that suits his ego. Today, his ego feels jaded.

"Ain't you never heard of a rat race, luv?"

[astrogator]

[Ari's eyes widen. So that's what the odd smell is. Whatever he's smoking. Not that she cares, particularly. For a straitlaced military type, Ari's tried more than her fair share of mood-altering pills and patches. It's all legal, out in her sector. Legal and profitable.

His timing is decidedly strange though, she has to admit, and the answer he gives is just confusing.]

Can't say I have. Enlighten me? Because if it's literal, and we're the rats, there's no chance someone is spending all this money just to watch us race.

[strewth]

[Silk Cuts are not an exotic brand; it's mostly nicotine and whatever the factory workers scraped off the bottom of their shoes. He breathes it out into the air, and it smells like being cheerfully kicked in the nose.]

'Course someone's watching. What about that robot bastard? [A shrug, another pull.] They're either betting us tryin' to find it's more profitable than the real thing, or the real thing's more profitable'n all this bollocks.

[He gestures to the planes, trains and automobiles in the carrier. Sorry. Spaceships.]

[astrogator]

[It's exotic to the young woman from Cardalek, though. Exotic and disgusting, but that's another matter, and one she's too polite to mention, even if her nose does wrinkle a little when he exhales.]

If the real thing's half of what they say it is, it could be profitable enough to crash the economy of half a sector. If that's what the one who claims it wants to do with it. [She cares as much about profit as the next Tradeliner, but using Fortuna to get obscenely rich strikes her as thinking far too small.]

That's something I haven't thought of, though. What if we are being watched, and not just by SUPERBIA? There could be people out there betting on which of us they think will win. That'd be lucrative, wouldn't it?

[strewth]

[He notices the nose wrinkle and steps a little closer.]

Rich bastards'll do anything for a kick. Watch the rats race. Betting's the gentleman's sport, innit. You've a mind for cynicism, if you push.

ii. Skeletons in the Closet

[notacaptain]

[Shepard straightens from where she'd been attempting to scan a... honestly she's still not sure what it was, with her omnitool. To no effect of course. Nothing here is known. Nothing really makes sense. She'd heard the footsteps, but hadn't worried about them. After all, she's fairly confident in her ability to handle any potential threat that might be headed her way.

But the human who comes into view definitely doesn't seem like a threat, so Shepard straightens before dusting off the knees of her uniform neatly.]

Well, if you want my best guess? [Shepard looks back at the still unscannable item before shaking her head and turning back to this stranger.] We're talking old, old. I've seen ruins that were well over 50,000 years old in better shape than this hunk of junk.

[astrogator]

[Fifty thousand years? Fifty thousand years ago, people on Tirva hadn't even figured out writing, much less building anything as sophisticated as this.]

I wouldn't have guessed it was anywhere near that old, but it's not exactly my field.

[She looks the other woman over. That uniform says professional spacer to Ari, even if not an organisation she can identify. She expects a certain degree of common sense from that sort. The technology she's using is very unfamiliar to Ari's eyes, but she doesn't ask about it immediately.]

That makes me wonder if I should be worried about the structural integrity of this place. [She's not inclined to trust anything that could be truly ancient.]

[notacaptain]

[The wonders of having a universe with a cylical nature. Because Humanity certainly hadn't been anything sophisticated, being super early in their evolution at best.]

Can't say it's mine either. I'm a soldier not a scientist.

[Uniforms are seemingly fairly universal even if you can't tell who the uniform represents it still says a lot about a person.]

I wouldn't worry about it. However old this place is, it's clearly very sturdy.

[She stamps a booted foot down, proving her point.]

If it makes you feel better, I've been in a ship that's well over a billion years old and still structurally sound. You'd be surprised how long things can last.

[Calling a Reaper just a ship is underplaying it, but she's not in the mood for long exposition about that right now.]

[astrogator]

[Ari doesn't believe it, at least not literally. A billion years is an incredibly long time. There were stars that could live and die long before a billion years was up. Even the best-designed ship couldn't last a fraction of that time. Unless of course there were temporal shenanigans involved, and the billion was a technicality, but then that was hardly so reassuring.

It doesn't matter. She isn't about to accuse someone she's just met of lying.]

You're probably right. If it's held up all this time, we're unlikely to be the ones to break it. I'll get used to it. It's only that out in my sector, everything over a couple of centuries we'd call old. [Back then, all they'd had was slow ships with cryonics, and the very beginnings of powerful enough engines to travel without them - at sub-c, with all the attendant time dilation problems. A lot had changed in a short space of time.]

I'm a spacer. Lieutenant Tayrey, with the Tradelines. [She doesn't mention her ship, as would be typical, because she doesn't have one. Why else would she be here? A spacer without a ship is a sad thing. Ari sounds positive enough, regardless, and she sticks out one hand by way of greeting.]