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Not sure who would bother with this station except for some drinks.  Not worth stealing a ton of useless scrap in a small battlecraft.

Well technically, the outpost is a giant fuel tank floating in space. Enough to supply a small military fleet for several days, at least. The trick is to get the fuel without blowing up the station

---

You make the main hall guest-worthy!

Shouldn't take long.


You return behind the bar just as the main door opens and out of the docking bay comes a rather feminine, petite young man. His silvery white hair is arranged in a nearly perfect bowl cut, with only two long strands hanging over each ear. Dressed in white flight suit, and with some strange implant over his right ear, he is carrying a suitcase-

BWAAH! BWAAH!

Alert! Unauthorized kinetic weapons detected on board of the station!
The speakers across the hall notify you that the guest is armed, but are they dangerous?

"Ah, apologies. I forgot SRC has 'no weapons on board' policy. Please excuse me." The young man hurriedly turns around and leaves for the docking area, and the door closes behind him.


The door opens, and the young man is back - this time without the suitcase.

"Please forgive me for causing the alert. I'm too accustomed to having a gun on me, I keep forgetting that is not a norm everywhere." As the youth makes his way to the counter, you realize, with each step he takes, that he is smaller and younger than you've thought.

He might be what, sixteen? Eighteen, at best? And despite you being of average height, you're still few inches taller than the guy.

The man sits at one of the stools and looks around the bar, taking in the sights, probably?

"Can I have a shot of Wóda, for starters?"

A) [CHATTY] "It would be nice if you've introduced yourself, or at least showed your ID chip. You look quite young."
B) [HOT-HEADED] "A slow start, that's nice! But I would rather see your ID chip first! No ID, no drinking, fella!"

You bravely decide it is time to show-off your hunting skills.

3*

Your month of preparation was most likely in vain, but you finally manage to shoot down a brightly-colored grouse.

"You're not much of a hunter, but at least you're not afraid of bow and arrow." King Woren of Glamoor snorts at your hunting display. "Come now, it is time for a feast. My hunters and courtiers have gotten us enough meat to last till tomorrow!"

The feast back at the castle is accompanied by the music of fiddles, drums and string instruments.

Your first meal is, unsurprisingly, the very bird you've managed to shoot down. It's served whole on a platter.

"So, honored guest." You certainly don't like how King Glamoor puts the accent on 'guest'. "What do you want?"

A) "To see your men away from the borders and villages of my kingdom."
B) "To ask for military alliance of our kingdoms."
C) "To ask for a trade agreement between our nations."
D) "To offer to bind our families in marriage."

You decide to look for booze.


In almost half an hour, you've visited every storage room, vault compartment and personal living area that's on the station.

Unfortunately, the hunt for bottled booze was fruitless. You've not found even a single bottle.

You make a mental note to maybe ask traveling traders, if any show up on the station, to ask them about bottled alcohol.


Having tidied up some of clutter in one of the storage rooms, you return to the command console only to hear the sensor console beeping.

A very small, one-person craft is zipping in a line from Constantine Jump Gate to Albatros.

They're sadly not approaching the station, so SRC sensors are not allowed to scan them...

...but you're allowed to ping them.

A) Bothering every passerby with 'hey, listen! we have drinks' is not gonna make the station look good.
B) On the other hand, a possible customer means possible profits. Let's message them!

You decide to check the SRC service desk to see where your ticket be at.


When you need something to work efficiently, SRC network has you covered.

When you need some help from SRC, it then becomes a headache-inducing maze of pages.

But hey, you've found your ticket! You wonder if they can get your outpost fixed soon, that would be nice!

REPAIR TEAM REQUEST TICKET #40431
From: Outpost 254813
Status: Repairs scheduled
Allocated Vessel: RV139
Allocated Date: 1234USY.9d/1m.1000h
Yay.

You think its time to kill at least part of the waiting time...

A) ...with bartending encyclopedia perusal?
B) ...by going to sleep early?
C) ...with the quest for bottled alcohol?

You go to the medbay and plug yourself into the medical station.

You sit down to combat the disorientation and dizziness a bit better while the medical computer scans your electronical part of the brain.


That was wholly unpleasant. You pull up the medical console to check the readout...

BIO-CHIP analysis:
Neural Connectors: OK
Physical Status: OK
Wet Memory: Issue found! Subcouncious Block
Neural Charge Capacitors: OK
Auxiliary Chip: OK

Wet Memory Subcouncious Block:
Subcounciously repressing memories related to bio-chip owner's childhood, teenage or other formative periods of life due to inability to cope with traumatic event(s) that happened during any of aformentioned periods

Cause:
Psychological

Treatment:
Psychiatric therapy by certified specialist

The civil war was certainly traumatic, as any war, but why would you lose memories related to your life at laboratory, if all you were doing was sit at the desk during school hours and then play with other kids afterwards? And even better, why would you lose memories related to the idyllic life at the mansion if all your needs were taken care off there?

But at least you know what's wrong with your bio-chip - or rather, what's wrong with you.

You pull up SRC employee benefits list.

Unsurprisingly, psychological evaluation and treatment of non-Humans is not on the list.

A bit uneasy, you unplug yourself from the computers and dress up. You might not be able to fix this today... but maybe, some time in the future, there will be a chance.


As you idly wipe the counter, you hear a hailing ping coming from the communications console.

It's coming from 'Most Fortunate Occurence'.

"Captain Pereres here. My pilot has woken up and we're preparing for departure. Our return trip does not take us through Aries, so this is a goodbye. Goodbye. Most Fortunate Occurence, out."


True to Captain Pereres' words, the 'Most Fortunate Occurence' has pulled away from the station and is en route to the Epsilon Scorpii Jump Gate.

You're alone on the station once more.

Soon, you will be the only living being in the entirety of Aries System as well.

What to do now?

A) Start the sleep cycle early.
B) Search for bottled alcohol that might or might not be somewhere on the station.
C) Check the SRC bartending encyclopedias for additional bartender lore and stuff.
D) Find a bandana and play a hard-working mainten- actually, check repair request status. Shouldn't have SRC replied already?

You compose a letter warning the King of Glamoor that harassment of your people will not be left without a response, neither will be the threatening posturing of his army.

You also instruct the Marshal to send soldiers to camp on the border with Glamoor, too.


Marvelous news! The Head of Savoren has been found!

Savoren was one of early Deist priests from the first century, who was said to possess powers of healing plague and resurrecting the dead. The violent conflicts around year 100 cost him his life and while his body was buried, his head was stolen by the soldiers of what is now Remoria and then lost to history.

The head your soldiers brought to you is in gilded, wooden box that have seen more than a century of rot and soil. The head itself is a ghostly, tuber-sized horror with yellowed teeth and strands of white hair.

"We ought to give it to the people of Deist faith, so that they can finally bury Savoren whole. Think of the popularity it would earn you, my liege." The Advisor says before the Treasurer chimes in.

"Or we could sell it to them." This elicits some gasps from amongst your courtiers, before the Advisor coughs.

"Selling body parts of important Deist people is considered by them a sacrilege, one of the worst, in fact."

"But think of the economy!"

A) "Let's give the head back to the Deists in a show of generosity."
B) "Our Treasury is emptying, and such a relic will definitely fetch a nice price!"
C) -
D) "Put it under lock and key, for now."

aa
bb
c
dddddddd

---

You brush aside the Advisor's warnings, and the old man shakes his head in defeat.


The first wagonloads of gold bullion arrive in the Treasury!

The manager of the mines reports that initial diggings match projections almost completely. The deposits should last at least few decades.


The healers bring joyous news - your wife is with a child! They believe delivery should happen around Winter time.

While your household is on good tracks, the Kingdom isn't.

"Armies at the border?" The two governors from southwest bow their heads.

"It is the horseriding brutes from Glamoor Kingdom, my liege. There's been attacks on our people on the side roads and there's been army camps spotted by our scouts on the Glamoor's side of the borders."

"Our Army is still small and our Treasury is in even worse shape. They must've sniffed out our weakness." Explains the Advisor. "We ought to solve this problem before it becomes a problem, preferably diplomatically."

"Nay!" The Marshal bursts into the throne room, his red cape flowing behind him in dramatic matter. "No need for diplomacy! We ought to preemptively strike into Glamoor, burn some villages down, and show them we're not as weak as they believe us to be!"

A) "The Advisor is right! Let's send angry letters of displeasure to the King of Glamoor."
B) "The Marshal is right! Prepare our soldiers to march into Glamoor!"
C) "You're both wrong, and paranoid! I'm sure those are just army drills, or something."

You decide to check on the mysterious clonking sound source.


You finish setting up the internal sensor link to the console, and-

*CLONK*... *CLONK CLONK*....

You disengage the link - yep, the audio ghost in Fuel Pump #7 is still there.

As your imagination fails to provide more of interesting stuff to do, you start to feel a creeping dread - that, sooner or later, you will be stranded on the station with nothing to do but wait until arrival of new client...

A) Mind and body exploration time, woo!
B) I still wonder if there are any off-list bottled liquors on board...