Dreaming Stars

[Former Fiend]

Zus had, in his own personal opinion, a perfectly reasonable and well thought out answer to the captain's question regarding the unannounced and unauthorized presence of, as the captain had chosen to phrase it, an 'unconscious primitive' on board the ship. And Zus was, of course, fully prepared to explain this answer to the captain in however much detail was necessary to satisfy & calm the captain's completely understandable displeasure at the development.

And he was just about to deliver said explanation when Candy showed up.

Zusin Cren's instinctive reaction to the sudden appearance of a new party who wasn't supposed to be there was to draw his weapon – in this case, a laser pistol – and aim it directly between the intruder's eyes. He was more than a little taken aback by the appearance of the intruder; she looked more like an outmoded mannequin robot than an android.

“Mr. Cren.” Captain Nalse repeated. “Why is there an unlicensed pleasure bot on my ship?”

“Okay, that one I can promise I had nothing to do with.” Zus said, keeping the laser pistol trained on Candy as he walked around her and over to the box he had been intending to check on. Inside where wigs, clothes, and just enough room for the robot if she were to scrunch up a bit. He recognized the box, as well; it was the case they had been hired to deliver to the rings of Preluria; part of the deal had been a 'no questions asked, don't look in the box' type, with only enough scans done to ensure it wasn't loaded with explosives or toxins. “Well, shit.”

“Mr. Cren?” Nalse repeated again.

“She's cargo. Climbed out of that package we got hired to deliver on Verces.” Cren kicked the box; there was no reason to smuggle a non-sentient robot. Job only made sense if she really was an android. Which meant trafficking charges & prison sentences for the crew back in the pact worlds.

“Nonsense. If she were cargo we'd be committing a felony.” Nalse said. “She is a passenger & a guest.” The blimp-alien turned to face Cand, in so much it could face anything, not actually having a face of it's own, “Welcome aboard the Dreamer, Miss. We will try to get you your show back as soon as systems are restored. Until then, make yourself comfortable.”

With that, Nalse turned back to Zus. “Now then, Mr. Cren, the primitive?”

“Right, about that.” Zus said, walking back over to the captain. As he did, he noted that Cyphied, Hel, Dave, and Skittles had all made their way into the cargo bay. He looked to Cyph first, as she was the first to speak up and the first to address him directly, asking about the state of said primitive. “One swift kick to the head to knock him out. Probably gave him a concussion; guess I just felt like paying it forward today. But whatever's up with his hands & feet, he did to himself.”

“But yeah, he was out cold & we were about to take off. Didn't have time to get him to safety and I wasn't going to leave him to – Oh, thanks, Dave,” he said with a friendly smile as Dave handed him a snack and a soda, “anyway, wasn't going to leave him there to die. So I brought him on board. Want me to take one of the lifeboats & take him back?”

Nalse considered for a moment. “No, that would take hours and I want to leave this system before then. The Dreamer may be flight worthy but it is still in rough shape. We need to get back to civilization to make proper repairs; even Skittles can only do so much with what we have on and. Speaking of whom.” Nalse turned to the skittermander. “Executive Chief Mechanic Skittles Digga; is my drift engine back on line yet?”

Skittles snaped an attentive salute with two hands. "Yes, sir! I mean, it will be soon, sir! I was just, uh getting fuel... sir!” She indicated her soda when speaking of fuel, “Uh. Sir!"

“Well then, since you've acquired your 'fuel', get back to it. Mr. Cren and Mr. Nuro Syer,” Nalse indicated Hel when it addressed him by two of the latter elements of his name, “ are at your disposal if you need any heavy lifting done.” Turning it's attention to the others, “In the mean time, Dave, if you would be so kind as to show our new passengers,” Nalse indicated Candy & Prentis, who remained tied down and in shock, “to the guest quarters, that would be excellent, thank you.” Speaking next over comms to those who hadn't joined them in the cargo bay, “And Mr. Silver, Ms. Poliare, assist Cyphied & Skittles with any systems diagnostics that need to be run to make sure we're ready for a drift jump as soon as the engine is online.”

A few hours went by. Repairs were finalized. Systems were checked. Green lights were given. Heavy things were lifted. All crews were told to report to stations. Cyphied in the cockpit, Polaire & Silver at their computers, Skittles in the engine room, Prentis & Candy secured in the guest quarters, Dave cleaning up the mess hall, and Zus & Hel in their gunner positions, just in case an unfriendly welcome was waiting for them on the other side of the drift jump.

The captain gave the order. Thrusters were shut off. The drift engine was activated a minute later. The Dreamer crossed the barrier from the prime material plane into the hyperspace plane of the drift. And... noting. No attack, no hostile ships waiting for them. A collective sigh of relief was breathed.

The thrusters were fired up and a course was plotted. Back to where they had started, or close enough. Absolom Station; the capitol of the Pact Worlds system. A drift nexus, thanks to the presence of the legendary Starstone; you could reach the station inside of a week from anywhere in the galaxy. For them, it would hopefully take less than a day.

“All crew, report to the bridge.” Captain Nalse announced over coms, once the course was set and they were underway. A few minutes later, when everyone had assembled, the captain addressed the crew. “You've all done well and performed admirably in an impossible situation. You have my gratitude. But, we have another challenge ahead of us that needs to be considered.”

“By complete accident,” Nalse continued, “we have discovered an uncharted, inhabitable world. A garden world, resource rich, lush and covered in life, and what's more, populated with humans. It's entirely possible that we may have accidentally discovered lost Golarion. But even if not, the coordinates for this new system and this planet will be exceedingly valuable. But, as it is outside Pact Worlds jurisdiction, this planet is vulnerable to exploitation. Invasion, hostile colonization, enslavement, strip-mining.”

“What we do with this information that we possess could make us all wealthy beyond our wildest imaginations. Or it could get us killed. And it will have dire implications for the lives of the natives of this world that we have discovered. So we need to discuss and decide what we're going to do with this information and how to proceed. I am your captain, but I cannot make this decision unilaterally. Nor will I abide any of you going behind the backs of the rest of the crew for your own benefit. We will come to a consensus as a group, and we will hold to it. Now, opinions?”

[Panzer]

The solarian just watched the events unfold in front of him, events he was more the inclined to just let play out. This surely was not going to the weirdest thing he would ever encounter in his journey but right now it took the cake. Captain Nalse ordered everyone to stations as they prepared to enter the Drift and Hel was more then happy to oblige.

Hours passed by and eventually they made it back to Absolom Station for repairs and a little needed rest. Before dismissing the crew Nalse brought up the elephant in the room, what to do about the planet they crash landed on and by proxy the human they had brought with them from it. The captain was right in all regards, yes it would be valuable but there was also danger on selling that information or keeping it secret. Hel was no fan of having ones homeland ripped away, its resources drained and inhabitants enslaved if not killed to the point of extinction. The kashasta reached up and pulled the mask away from his mouth and scratched his chin. Things weren't always black and white and this was going to be one of those cases of gray area where the balance would be tipped to one end of The Cycle.

Being a believer of The Cycle and one of it's many living embodiment's, the solarian tried to let things run their natural courses as dictated by the delicate balance of creation and destruction. This time though it would go beyond that though, while he enjoyed the concept of money he wasn't going to condone the potential mass murder of a people to get a few extra bucks. He took a deep breath before speaking “Based on our limited experience with the planet, I think it would be best to leave it as it is. Our unintentional actions have already caused enough damage that the locals will have to spend years dealing with. The people on that planet appear to my eyes unprepared for any interaction with those of us from the Pact Worlds. Give the place a few centuries that may change, but as it is now, telling anyone outside the crew about it seems like...” He paused trying to think of a good way to put his thoughts into words. “It would be equivalent to a game of dice, we won't know the outcome whether it is good or bad until they have been cast. I'm not willing to sell this planet out for mere riches and fancies titles.”

He paused again taking a swig of the soda Skittles had given him earlier, “As for our friend that we picked up, we have a few options and some are distasteful given what has happened to his home. As accidental as our crash was it did cost his people many lives. My opinion is see if he would rather be returned home at which point we forget the place ever existed or,” Hel paused taking another drink. “Second option, we have a vacancy in the crew, see if the man would be amiable to staying on, give him his “sea legs” I believe the term was long ago. Once he is comfortable let him make the choice for his planet of his own accord. I have said all I have to say, so whoever is next speak up.”

[Doozerpindan]

In his dazed state, he had not realised the lock to his door had been broken in the crash, which explained why it had not closed, and how Skittles had managed to commandeer his computer. A small pulse of irritation quickly lost to the void of thought. ‘For one with such an impressive intellect, she is… Disappointingly infantile.’

He unlocked his computer and set about reorganising his lab until the captain called, ordering him to help repair the ship. ‘This one shall assist.’ He replied telepathically.

The repairs were done to the best of the crew’s ability, and so Silver returned to his lab and finished organising his things. He had allowed a small measure of amusement at having Skittles repair the lock to his door as she had been the one to “discover” the issue.

He was meditating in the exact centre of his lab when the captain ordered him to the bridge. Once there, the captain explained the issue and the new dilemma facing them now.

'While this one would enjoy the opportunity to study this new world and all it’s inhabitants, sapient or otherwise, we have already done potentially catastrophic damage to both it and its natural course of evolution. Furthermore, this one believes we do not have the right to decide the fate of an entire world and its people, especially after causing such harm. I agree with what Hell stated. We should attend to the primitive onboard, educate him as to the many possibilities for both himself and his world, and then allow him to make the decision himself.'

[purestmorganic]

Poliare was on her computer when she had been called to the bridge. She had been in a match of Space-Watch so she got a bit annoyed when she had been called there. She had walked to the bridge, an area she wasn’t really a fan of, with a bucket of her favorite chicken. She thought most of the crew members probably suspected that she wouldn’t take this situation seriously, after all, she was never serious herself. As she walked in she noticed that the entire crew had already been there.



As she listened to the captain she thought about her response, when he had asked for opinions she had been a bit shocked. Poliare had almost never been asked about her opinion mostly because she either never answered seriously or answered at all.



“I think we should just leave the planet be. If we’re going to tell people about this planet who knows what they’ll do, honestly they might kill off everything on that planet so nothing can object to what they want.” Poliare had no clue what she was getting herself into so she just stuffed chicken in her face.



She just sat there and waited to see what would happen.

[Former Fiend]

Zusin half leaned, half sat on a panel, that, so far as he had observed in his year on the ship, served no function whatsoever other than to blink & flash lights that held no meaning or significance, and listened to the others. As he listened he munched on some snacks that Dave had, once more, helpfully provided, and when he was ready to speak, he washed those snacks down with a drink and pushed forward, off the panel, stepping a bit towards the center of the group.

“Alright, so, this is all very noble, and I can appreciate and respect it. Honestly, I might even agree that we don't have the right to make this decision. But, there are a few things we should consider to put this all in perspective.”

He glanced around the others, and took another sip of his drink before continuing. “We're about to be in a pretty deep hole here. Skittles & everyone else has done a hell of a job getting us in the air again, but there's still significant structural damage as well as damage to a lot of systems. We're low on fuel, low on ammo, down a crew member so that's restitution payments if she had any next of kin listed. And that's not to mention our passengers.” The half-orc paused and took in a deep breath.

“Look, I'm the one who decided to bring the native on board. It's on me. But, as soon as we put into Absolom Station, we are all going to need to stop by a clinic. Don't know what diseases he's carrying or that may have gotten on board the ship while we were grounded. Even if he's clean, we're going to have to get him immunized to a lot of shit. So that's medical expenses. Not to mention, his exams are probably going to raise questions.” He turned to Hel, “You want to bring him on board as crew, fill our now vacant bunk? Alright, sure, if he's up for it. Seemed to know how to move, probably knows how to fight when he's not blinded by rage with crippled hands & feet, but that's still training & equipment. Don't think the scout's gear is going to fit him.”

“And then there's Candy. Jobs haven't exactly been pouring in lately and now we have a job that we're not going to complete because I think we're all in agreement about not delivering her to be someone's sex slave. But that does mean we're pissing off whoever hired us & whoever was expecting that delivery so that's some blowback we're looking at.” He put his hands on his hips & let out a sigh.

“So, I'm not saying that we should hand the planet's location over to the Aspis Consortium or the Order of the Nail, because I don't want to see the population get slaughtered & enslaved and the planet get stripmined anymore than any of you do. But selling the info to Abadarcorp? The Xenowardens? The Starfinders? People who've got a pretty good track record with first contacts lately? That may just keep this ship flying and this crew whole for a while longer, is all I'm saying.”

With that, Zus ceded the floor & stepped back over to the spot he had been in before he started speaking, taking another bite out of his snack.

[Rex Apium]

When Prentis didn't immediately react in an aggressive manner, Cypheid took it upon herself to also heal his feet and legs. He wouldn't be in perfect condition, but at the very least he'd be able to use his feet and hands. It was an improvement at the very least.

She stood when she was finished, looking down to the man with a sigh. He was in shock. If she was being honest, she couldn't blame the guy in the slightest. He'd never even dreamed this sort of thing was possible, let alone expected to be in a situation like this. She wouldn't even be surprised if his acclimation took extra time. In a way she understood where he was coming from. Her planet was completely off limits, which was her people's choice, but even so they weren't completely shocked when visitors arrived. They just told them politely they didn't want what they were selling and they could see themselves out.

With the injured seen and taken care of, Cyph returned to her proper place – the cockpit. Repairs were painfully slow. At least to her they were. She was sure that if she considered it for longer than a second she'd realize that the repairs were actually being completed in record time. Still, it felt far longer to her as she sat in her seat and waited for her systems to come back online. They did. Slowly, but surely and once everything was cleared she braced herself for the jump into the drift... and whatever else may have been waiting for them.

Cypheid would be the first to admit she breathed a sigh of relief when the jump proved uneventful. She honestly wasn't sure if the ship would be able to survive another attack with the shape she was in currently. Cypheid leaned forward at this thought and rubbed the top of the cockpit in front of her, cooing to the ship in her native tongue.

Her drift nervousness was back as she replotted their direction. In fact it was probably worse than before, heightened by the adrenaline wearing off and her lack of proper sleep. When they got back to the station she was going to take the longest, hardest nap she could possibly take. She promised herself that much. Granted, thinking of that nap made her think of the state her room was probably in after the crash and she let out an audible groan.

She'd leaned back in her seat and had her eyes closed when the captain called the rest of the group to the bridge. Autopilot had been set, so she didn't need to pay close attention to her surroundings, and Cypheid had hoped to catch a nap while the ship made its way to their destination. She groaned again and didn't leave her space, instead choosing to stay in the lowered section of the bridge as she listened to not only what Nalse said, but what everyone else said at the same time.

With a dissatisfied sigh, she pushed herself up and climbed out of the cockpit proper, putting her hands on the rungs of the ladder as she started speaking, “All this is fine and good but we don't have the right to decide the fate of an entire planet.”

She paused there as she reached the top of the ladder, folding her arms as she did so, “It's the residents of the planet's right to decide the fate of it. We'll give the information to people that can properly set up relations with the residents. People that can educate them in the safest and least damaging way possible.”

Cypheid spoke in a way that made it very clear that she was not making a suggestion. Anyone who knew even the slightest hint of a rumor of Daimalko would be able to understand why she would take a stance as such.

“As for bringing him on board, I don't really care. That's you guys, but Zus does make a good point. We're fronting the bill for him. Sure, we can sell the information on his planet, and I'm not against that, but we're gonna give it to the right people. We can also use the information on who hired us to deliver Candy to our advantage. They push back too much, we blackmail them. They'll threaten us, that we know for certain. Can't pretend we ain't pissing anyone off where that's concerned. But as far as that, we only gotta worry if they catch us.”

She sighed and shrugged, “We're gonna have to hunt down leads on other jobs too. Preferably while also dragging out the knowledge we didn't finish the one as long as possible.”

“Food for thought,” she ended with, turning to descend the ladder again and return to the cockpit. Once there she leaned back again, putting her hands above her head and closing her eyes.

[Former Fiend]

Captain Nalse considered all presented opinions. Dave joined in the chorus of 'leave them alone', wanting nothing to do with the primitives. Skittles offered the very vague and non-specific suggestion of 'we should help!', though didn't elaborate as to whether helping meant leaving them in peace or introducing them to a world of new technology and karaoke performances.

“Well.” Nalse began after everyone had finished. “The consensus is obvious. However, Mr. Cren raises one inescapable point; by bringing the primitive on board, even with Cyphied's excellent healing, he may have exposed us to unknown contaminants. Once we put into port we will all have to submit to a rigorous medical examination, especially our new guest. Questions will be raised. We may become a target. We will need to give the information to someone. The Starfinder organization does, as Mr. Cren alluded to, have a good track record with first contact situations. Once we've been examined and cleared, I will arrange a meeting with them. Hopefully the opportunity will lead to more work with them, as well.”

“Meeting adjourned. All technical crew, dismissed to stations. The rest of you, dismissed to quarters.



Once upon a time there was a planet called Golarion, third planet orbiting it's sun. That's all most people in the pact worlds knew about it; that it had, at one point, existed.

Most humans who weren't from Akiton were descendants from Golarion. Elves had once colonized it, drow had developed on it, orcs – and consequently, half orcs – were native to it, as were dwarves & halflings. The albino bull-men called nuar claimed to have originated from the lost world as well. Indeed, from what could be pieced together from fractured histories, Golarion boasted the highest population and population diversity of intelligent races of any planet in the Pact Worlds systems.

When the Gap ended, however, Golarion was gone. Not destroyed; no second Diaspora had appeared in it's place. It was just gone as if it had never existed. In it's place was Absalom Station. A small space station that had become the center of culture & civilization for this solar system. The Pact Worlds drew their name from the Absalom Pact, the document the signed for mutual support and defense, and it was here that there representatives met and governed the system. This five-mile diameter station was home to over two million people of various races, a center of trade, the base of the most powerful corporations in the known galaxy, as well as it's most dangerous crime syndicates.

Absalom Station was special not for it's location in space, but because of what it contained. The Starstone, the powercore of the station. Legend held that when the stone resided on Lost Golarion, it could empower those who reached it with divine status, making gods out of mortals, as Iomedae, Spirit of Golarion, claimed to be. Now in modernity, the stone was not a saught after test of divinity, but rather a shining light in the Drift. Not a beacon, but a Nexus, so luminous and powerful that a ship could reach Absalom from anywhere in the galaxy in no more than six days.

On this particular trip, the Dreamer managed it in about eight hours.

Viewed from above, Absalom Station resembled an asymmetrical six-pointed star, the points of the star extending from the central circle of the thing as arms that formed the main docks of the station and contained within them all manners of shops, services, and entertainment that a crew of spacers fresh off their star ship could want. The Arms connected to the Ring, the circular district that housed the bulk of the station's residents, which itself encircled the Eye, the large central dome that housed the most important government, military, and corporate areas. Descending below these sectors, the Spike contained the industry & machinery that kept the station running, and the slums were it's poorest huddled.

But the first district one encountered when coming to Absalom Station was the Armada; the vast & evershifting swarm of ships that surrounded it, some just stopping in on their way to greater adventures, others permanent fixtures. They ranged from single fighters to massive warships to collections of various crafts rafted together to form smaller spacestations, themselves. Absalom Station was a tiny island in the vast sea of space, with the most crowded harbor in the known galaxy. And it took a skilled pilot to navigate those waters.

The Dreamer made it's way through the Armada to dock in Fogtown, one of the two larger arms and the one agreed to represent 'north' onboard the Station. Fogtown got it's name from it's thick atmosphere, a fog of purple and blue and orange and yellow, tailored for the natives of the gas giants Bretheda & Liavara; such as Captain Nalse. The air wasn't toxic to non-Brethedans, but it could be disorienting for those who weren't used to it. Which wouldn't be an issue as Nalse had ordered everyone to disembark in environmentally sealed suits(getting the still catatonic Prentis into one of the suits was a challenge) until their medicals were complete. Under ideal circumstance the crew wouldn't leave the ship at all and they would bring on medical personnel to perform the examinations, but the ship didn't have full medical facilities & was too damaged to accommodate the equipment necessary, so a few inconveniences were to be endured.

A clinic was contacted, appointments were made, and the crew disembarked.