xinoehp512

Jacks didn't understand what Cofe was talking about, because he was talking about the plot to steal the escape pod.

"No, you explain yourself," Jacks replied. "What were you thinking, with this chicken-brained scheme of yours?"

The door to Relve's cell slid open and Jacks walked in. He looked Relve over in silence for a few moments, then spoke. "You gonna talk?" @DrakeMarshall

In the course of Jacks' life, their had been few occasions where he felt truly, truly scared. There had been that time with the Aetherborn, and that time with the Mistborn, and that time with the chickens. And then there was now. The ship was falling apart, bit by bit. Most of the crowd that had been responsible for the airlock ejection yesterday had been set free, and from the looks of things there was shaping up to be another just like it today. (Not that anyone said anything; somehow, everyone knew.) The comms being destroyed had turned out exactly as Jacks had predicted; the ship even felt more silent and oppressive. And as if there hadn't been enough distrust and paranoia among the crew already, an officer had stepped forward, admitting to being part of a plot to steal one of the escape pods and flee. His friend had corroborated the story, revealing that they'd begun this plan at the urging of one of the higher ups. Jacks had already felt a measure of anger when he'd learned of the plot. The escape pods were his responsibility, after all. But he'd felt even more anger when he learned that one of the higher-ups had been the mastermind behind it. It reminded him of some acquaintances he'd known in the mercenary business. People like them didn't believe in responsibility to anyone but themselves. If things started smelling like a highstorm, they'd run faster than Fleet away, and never mind if they could have done anything to stop it. Jacks had never really liked that perspective, but he could at least understand it in a mercenary. These were officers. They had already accepted responsibility for many more lives other than their own. To throw that away was a betrayal of everything they stood for. And yet... nobody was doing anything about it. They all seemed content to wait around and hope the situation would resolve itself. Perhaps they were simply afraid. Well, Jacks might be afraid. But that had never stopped him before. (Drake) (Coffecat)

Jacks had never wished more that he were a genius. He wasn't stupid- no one survived for long in his profession by being stupid- but he was a long way off from being one of those detectives from the stories. The ones that could look at what a person was wearing and tell you where they were born, how they made a living, and what they ate for breakfast that morning. If one of those had been in Jacks' shoes, they'd've been able to get answers from the broken mess of wires that had once been the communications system. All Jacks had was a load of questions. How had the assassin gained access to the room? Had they stolen an access card, or were they truly a high-ranking officer? Or had they hacked through the door in some other way? The only conclusion he felt certain drawing from this mess was that the Scadrians- whoever they were- wanted the bridgemen isolated and afraid. The chaos on the ship was playing right into their hands. His mind wrapped back around to the door to Comms, and the keycard that would have been required to enter. Could it have been someone in Command? He thought of the officer he'd encountered yesterday. (CoffeeCat) He'd felt something off about them, and tried pushing them to see what their response would be. The response in question had been... off. They hadn't sounded like an innocent; they'd sounded like someone trying to sound innocent. And then he'd overheard them saying his name in hushed tones to a small group of officers, just a few minutes later. They're getting to me, Jacks thought grimly. Here I am, looking for Scadrians in every shadow. He shook his head, bending down to see what was on the pad. It seemed to be a dictionary definition of the word lethargy. Considering the context, it seemed somewhat morbid. How long would it be before they were all sleeping with the stars?

Storm it, Jacks thought to himself. Storm it, storm it, storm it. If he'd just been a little faster, a little more willing to hop through doors as they were opening, maybe he would have been able to get there in time to save Etanem from the void of space. As it was, all he'd been able to do was zap the perpetrators with a painrial and throw them all in the brig. He doubted most of them would get anything more than a slap on the wrist before being allowed to resume their duties; the ship simply couldn't afford to lose so many bridgemen, especially not during a time like this. Of course, perhaps they couldn't afford to be lenient either. How long before a few bridgemen decided they didn't like how the Captain was running things, and tried to take matters into their own hands? I'll just have to be faster next time, he thought grimly.

Jacks clicked the channel to the Security Officer. "What is it?" came the voice. "Any news?" "Not exactly," Jacks replied, his voice carefully neutral. "What's this I hear about you throwing people out of the airlock?" There was a long pause after that. "Where did you hear that?" "Oh, you know. Here and there." "You keep this under wraps, you hear?" The Security Officers voice was hard. "We can't have news of this getting out." "If you go through with this, they're going to find out eventually-" "Storm it, Jacks, don't make me censure you for insubordination." Jacks grunted. "Fine. But I rescind my earlier comment. Jim (RBM) didn't do anything besides speak in a language I didn't recognize." The Security Officer exhaled. "Very well. But I need another name." "I don't-" "That's an order, Jacks." Jacks resisted grinding his teeth. "<name>(Coffeecat) I suppose wasn't exactly acting like an innocent when I spoke to them. But that's not anything more than a suspicion." No response. Jacks stared at the communicator. Only thirteens, he thought.

"Jacks!" buzzed the communicator suddenly. "I need your expert opinion on something. Who among the crew is most suspicious?" Jacks grunted. "How would I know? I don't exactly spend a lot of time socializing. And you haven't given me enough time to-" "We don't have time," interrupted the speaker. "Just give me a name." Jacks blinked. "<Name> (RoyalBeeMage), I suppose. But why-" The communicator feel silent. Jacks pulled out the coin and started reflexively flipping it. Now what had the Security Officer meant by that?

Right as Jacks began to feel the urge to start flipping coins to pass the time (which is to say, about two minutes later), his communicator buzzed to life. "Heliodor Ten to Ruby One. Confirm location and situation." Jacks repressed a snort at the codenames. "Location: still the escape pods. Situation: still uneventful." "Glad to hear it, Jacks." There was the soft plink-plink of fingers on control spheres. "We have some good news and some bad news. The good news is, no Scadrian cremlings shooting their way through the ship." Jax grunted. "Bad news, no Scadrians shooting though the ship." "Exactly. It would seem they've decided to lay low for now. In light of that information, we've decided to give you a more... dynamic assignment. I'll disclose more information later, when we can talk in private. For now, just make a round of the ship. Keep your eyes open for suspicious activity." "What about the escape pods?" "Set the locks to security clearance level three." Jacks raised an eyebrow. "And if we get hit by an asteroid?" "The rank and file will simply have to depend on their loyal officers to save them." Jacks couldn't repress a chuckle at that. "I know, I know. Look, we have more pressing issues at the moment. We don't have time for you to sit around doing nothing. Set the locks, make your rounds, prepare for further instruction. Copy?" "Copy," replied Jacks as he tapped on the wall terminal. "Excellent. Heliodor Eleven out."

When the announcement came, Jacks was ready for it. He strode out the door of his quarters, which were -conveniently enough- located right next to his emergency station. He took position and flicked the button on his communicator. "Jacks to Command," he spoke. "Escape pods secure. Awaiting further instructions." While the Fourth Bridge floated through space, the escape pods were more or less the only way off (barring travel through Shadesmar, but that came with its own set of issues). Knowing that... well, the crew of the Fourth Bridge may have been vetted for excellence, but you never really knew how someone might react to the vacuum of space. If someone lost their spheres after too much time floating in the endless void and tried to make a break for it, it was Jacks' responsibility to... persuade them otherwise. Of course, it might not be a panicked crew member this time. It might be a Scadrian infiltrator, terrified that his cover had been blown and desperate to escape before he was caught. Of course it had to be Scadrians, Jax mused. In his estimation, the whole planet was nothing but trouble. That being said, they made mighty fine coins. Spheres were nice and practical, but you couldn't exactly flip them.

Jacks balanced the boxing carefully on his thumb. Then he flicked. As the coin flipped in the air, he muttered "Heads," under his breath. Then he slapped it against his wrist and checked. As he'd predicted: heads. A smile of satisfaction tugged at the corners of his mouth. Ten in a row. Not bad. Of course, it was nowhere near his record. With practiced motions, he repeated the flip. Flick. Heads. Flick. Heads. Flick. Heads. Flick. Tails. Jacks let out a breath and frowned. Thirteen. He stood up and strode across his chambers to his weapons closet, upon which sat a sheet of paper covered in writing. At the top of the sheet was today's date, followed by a list of numbers. Each number represented a series of flips predicted correctly. And they were all thirteen. Jacks had known many acquaintances in his career as a mercenary. Some had called his coin-flipping superstitious, or even mad. But they were dead, and he was not. He inscribed the latest thirteen and went back to flipping, his mind full of thoughts. Whatever this meant, it couldn't be good.

I think that I would like to play this game. Do I understand correctly that The Fourth Bridge winning means the other two main factions lose?

As much as any place could be, that is.

"Yes," replied Yerik. "Do you remember when I told you about special metals that I could use to make magical weapons?" He gestured. "Well... here they are! I suppose you've seen the soldiers use them, so you know a little bit about how they work."

All of a sudden, Jeremy noticed the eyes. "Uhh," he said, backing up. "Uhhhh." @NameIess

Miyako looked around the room. The room was filled with soldiers, both in armor and out. Some seemed to be training, while others stood guard. The walls were covered in weapons- mostly spears, though there were a few devices that appeared to be fancy crossbows. The primary focus of the room, however, was the armor. Two main kinds were represented- the golden kind that could change its shape, and the reddish metal that some of the soldiers had used to pull off remarkable displays of power. Yerik's eyes lit up as he scanned the room.

"Sure," replied Yerik.

The group ventured out into the halls.

So is it if multiple villagers die in one cycle, evil wins?

"I'm done," replied Yerik, putting his bowl in the sink. "Let's go."

"I'd be more impressed if you'd brought us somewhere useful." shot back Jeremy. "What use is dimension-hopping if you can only end up in weird places inhabited by 'unimaginable horrors?'

I... think the princess is keeping track of your location. To make sure you don't leave the castle. Yerik glanced at Miyako. Would we get in trouble for exploring? I... no, I don't think so.