“Deep space, big dreams, and a well-stocked bar.”
Retro Faction of Voltrigones
– Straight Outta Low Dock, Voltrigones
A new story begins…
1 – The crew of the Osiris debates the wisdom of their deep-space mission, scrambles through last-minute preparations (prioritising tea and wine, of course), and finally leaps into the void, bound for the great unknown of Orion.
2 – The story continues with the establishment of Kar-wai Enterprise and the crew of the Osiris reflecting on their achievement – while also keeping an eye on the bar’s dwindling stock.
Chapter 1: Pledging our support for the Distant Worlds 3 “Shoulder of Orion” initiative
The hum of fusion reactors echoed through the cavernous loading bays of the RVS Osiris, a Fortune-Class Fleet Carrier that had, in its lifetime, seen both glory and ignominy in equal measure. Today, it was poised on the precipice of a grand endeavor: the colonisation of the Orion Molecular Cloud Complex.
Vice President Hank Sweeney, a man whose ties were always crooked and whose patience was always thinner than his wallet, paced in the Carrier’s command lounge, watching the last cargo containers of Titanium and Food Cartridges being secured in the bay. He grumbled to himself as he took a sip of something that was, in theory, tea but had more in common with boiled optimism and disappointment.
“I still think this whole ‘Shoulder of Orion’ business is going to get us stranded in deep space with a broken drive and a cargo hold full of good intentions,” he muttered.
Commander Alan G. Flotsam, standing beside him, grinned in that way only a man who could afford to be unreasonably hopeful did. “And yet here you are, signing off on it.”
“Philanthropy’s got its limits,” Hank shot back. “They say there’s no profit in deep space, and I’ve yet to see evidence to the contrary.”
“Well, if humanity had waited for a guarantee, we’d still be banging rocks together in the Sol system.”
“Or at least sticking closer to the Core Systems where they have decent bars,” Hank conceded.
– – –
On the lower decks, the crew was running final checks. Deck Officer Elmer McCall, whose moustache had accumulated more space dust than some planetary surfaces, was finalising the Carrier’s fuel requirements.
“We got enough Tritium to get us to Orion?” he called out as he leaned against a terminal.
Head Mechanic Marbella Haas, a woman with a deep love for ships and a deep loathing for those who mistreated them, wiped grease off her hands and scoffed. “Oh, we have the Tritium. The question is, does this old lady want to drink it? I tell ya, these fuel intakes are crankier than a Federation tax collector.”
Commodity Manager Rene Jacobs, the self-appointed quartermaster of all things consumable aboard the Osiris, was overseeing the more delicate logistics – namely, the bar.
“You know, it says a lot about this expedition that I’ve spent more time ordering wine than oxygen,” she said, checking her manifest. “I swear, the moment we run out of tea, there’ll be mutiny.”
“Tea’s the only thing keeping half this crew from self-destruction,” Elmer mused. “You wouldn’t believe what happened last time we stocked that ‘Coffee’ nonsense. Lost a deckhand to a bout of existential despair.”
Rene smirked. “See? That’s why I’m the most important person on this ship.”
– – –
With the final preparations completed, CMDR Flotsam stood on the bridge, staring at the nav charts. The Osiris had a long journey ahead. The Orion nebula was beautiful, but beauty didn’t always mean kindness – especially in the black.
“All right,” Flotsam announced. “Course is laid in. Systems are green. Everybody’s got their last drinks and regrets sorted?”
Hank sighed and adjusted his tie, as though preparing himself for the slow march into history. “Let’s just hope we don’t end up naming some godforsaken rock after ourselves because we crash-landed there.”
“If we do, I expect Flotsam’s Prime to be a shining beacon of civilisation,” Flotsam said, grinning.
Marbella snorted. “More like Flotsam’s Folly.”
With that, the final command was given. The Fleet Carrier’s engines roared, space itself seemed to stretch, and with a pulse of light, the RVS Osiris leapt into the void – toward the unchartered, toward destiny, and, most importantly, toward an uncertain but undoubtedly well-stocked future.
Chapter 2: The Staging Ground
The Osiris emerged from its jump into the staging system Synuefe KZ-M d8-16 – colloquially dubbed “The Foundry” by weary traders and explorers alike. The twin Class G stars bathed its eight scorched planets in relentless golden light, their barren, metallic surfaces glinting like unfinished sculpture projects left too long in the cosmic kiln. Only one world had the audacity to possess an atmosphere, a thick blanket of sulphur dioxide that ensured nobody overstayed their welcome.
Within hours, Osiris’ cargo area was abuzz with activity, as over 300 Commanders arrived from across the galaxy to offload the colonisation supplies.
Deck Officer Elmer McCall found himself directing a small army of independent pilots, pointing at cargo bays and barking orders like a man who’d seen far too many poorly executed docking manoeuvres in his lifetime.
“If you scratch that hull with your limpets, I swear, I will make you polish it with your flight suit!” he bellowed at one particularly careless hauler.
Meanwhile, Rene Jacobs was orchestrating the unloading of the more delicate items. It was a Sunday, and shift times had recently moved forward by an hour, so most CMDRs were casually dressed, and in some cases their attitude to hauling was reflected by their dress code.
“Handle that with care!” she scolded. “I don’t need some half-asleep pilot dropping a crate of superconductors. You think I want to see sparks flying before we’ve even got an outpost running?”
Within less than an hour, the cache of supplies were moved to Synuefe MC-A b34-4, where the foundations of a new outpost – Kar-wai Enterprise – began to take shape. It was to be a high-tech market, poised to churn out consumer technology, while drawing in metals and even more superconductors from nearby recently-colonised systems.
Hank Sweeney watched the bustle from the comfort of the Osiris’s lounge, sipping an unfeasibly-large Brandy with the air of a man who knew better than to get his hands dirty. “Well, we didn’t end up stranded,” he mused. “And somehow, against all odds, we might’ve actually helped build something useful.”
Marbella, still fresh from fixing a finicky cargo lift, flopped into the seat opposite him. “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t get any ideas about retiring to some cushy CEO job in a corporate office. I’d hate to have to stage a rescue op.”
CMDR Flotsam entered, looking satisfied but already planning the next jump. “One outpost down. Who’s ready for the next?”
Elmer groaned. “Can’t we at least restock the bar first?”. Rene raised her glass. “I’ll drink to that.”
The crew laughed, their ship now lighter, their purpose clearer, and their brandy supply dangerously depleted. But for the moment, in the cold expanse of space, they had built something new. And that, perhaps, was worth the trip.
Fleet Carriers around us
Managing our Systems
Trading with the RFoV
Efficient Haulers
Mindlessly taking commodities from A to B with minimal fuss is our speciality.
The Professionals
Our organisation is definitely not top heavy with middle management, we’re efficient and lean!
Credit the credits
As retro computer component prices are now both in-vogue and extortionate, our profit margins are on the up!
Sustainable
We’ll get rid of your biowaste
– “No Questions Asked”