CYOA: Fuck Yeah Space #10

Author's Notes: D wins again, with the seduction option! Now to get the mission underway!

[story]

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You exhale, looking down at the smooth, pearlescent floor beneath you, and consider your options. The issue with all of them is that they sound... well, hard, and in one specific case, potentially lethal to you. One possibility stands out, one thing you can’t possibly get wrong. “Seduction, what about that? How would I... I mean, y’know. How would I go doing that? Like, I’d need to find someone to... seduce. And such.”

Aia nods down at you, folding her arms across her chest and putting some thought into it. “Come with me,” she finally says, turning and continuing to lead you towards the hangar. The inside is similar, architecturally, to the Hall proper, though obviously smaller and a bit less lavish. This floating satellite isn’t a place of diplomacy, but a place of action. This becomes ever more clear to you as the q’orrine “commander” escorts you into what appears to be some kind of War Room, sporting several massive, plastiscreen monitors, all showing different readouts and statistics.

This room is dominated, however, by a sort of contained bubble, a singular mass of liquid that hangs ominously in the center of the room. Within are figurines of ships, and superimposed in the water are various latitudes, longitudes, and other markers of distance and positioning. Aia waves one hand in front of the bubble, and the image and figures within shift as if changing a PasTime channel -- now showing the interior of a ship and the space surrounding it. The idina ship.

“This is the closest approximation we’ve been able to come up with as far as what the vessel will look like once it’s docked and ready for you to get on,” Aia says, now slipping both hands into the bubble and beginning to rotate the holographic model of the ship within. The hull is translucent, allowing you to see each of the rooms within. “We managed to smuggle a holonav onto their ship, which, in conjunction with information from the inside, is giving us a solid idea of who’s on board and, more specifically, where they are.”

You nod slowly, your expression starting to slowly become more blank as you listen. Aia pauses, turning her gaze from the three-dimensional map and back to you. “This... isn’t really getting through to you, is it?” she grumbles, slipping her hands free of the bubble as she turns back to face you. You notice that they’re still dry. “Okay, I’ll break it down. We need to get you a target. Seduction should work, if you’re careful, but only if you pick the right person. Fortunately, we know who she is, and exactly where.”

“Alright, so... who? Someone in there with a nauelli fetish?”

“That’s what I was considering at first, but... seeing you, I think I can come up with something better.” Aia turns back to the bubble, waving her hand across it and bringing up a 3D image of an idina woman wearing a Science Command uniform -- slim, pretty, and from her static expression, a bit on the gloomy side. “Weapons Commander Al-z’Ree. Yeah, it’s kind of a mouthful.”

“Why’s she such a good mark?” you ask softly, blinking at the rippling image.

“She’s reclusive and she’s single, which should make her prime for... influencing. She’s also recently promoted -- so play to her ego, make her feel good about herself. That should be easy for you, considering your general lack of credentials.”

“That’s hurtful,” you murmur, but the armored q’orrine woman doesn’t seem to be paying attention.

“Of course, you’re free to do whatever you like once you get on board. Just remember that if those prisoners aren’t freed, you don’t get paid... and, well, if the idina find out that you’re on our side, chances of you making it off that ship alive are exceptionally low.”

That’s getting to be something you’re really tired of hearing. Still, probably best to keep it in mind. You breathe in deeply, nodding, jitters of nervousness burbling around in your stomach. “Okay, I think I got it.”

“You’ll have to think on your feet once you’re in there, underworlder. I wish you the best of luck.” Moving towards the back wall of the War Room, Aia withdraws a little black holster, already inside of which is some form of pistol. Tossing it to you, you clumsily grasp for it, catching it and taking a closer look. It’s glossy black in color, though strangely designed, unlike anything you’ve seen on nauelli guards or even on PasTime. Something uniquely q’orrine. “Take that. It recycles its own energy cells so you shouldn’t have to reload. Just aim, fire, and try not to shoot your own foot off. Class H weaponry will be allowed on the ship, so you shouldn’t have much issue. Just... keep in mind that if you try to get into a firefight with an entire idina military battalion, it probably won’t go your way.”

“Got it,” you say, clipping the holster to your belt. “So... where do I go from here?”

“You seriously don’t know anything about underworld business, do you?” Aia sighs. “Okay, it’s fine. Go out to the deck of the hangar outside, and tell the pilot who you are and where you’re going. She’ll get you to customs and we can get this thing moving. You might want to hurry, too -- it’ll only be a few hours before the vessel leaves, and then we’re all fucked. We’re counting on you, underworlder.”

“It’s Una,” you mumble. “Una Thax.”

“That’s great,” Aia grunts drily. “Now go. I still need to prepare a cloaked escort for you, and that’s gonna take up what little time I have left.”

You nod, blinking a few times as you head out of the War Room and then outside entirely, the atmosphere thin this close to open space. A multi-segmented hangar greets you as you head out towards the deck, and you’re greeted by who you can only assume is the pilot, ushered towards an extremely small, slender ship that looks like it was scavenged from someone and re-outfitted with the pink-and-green colors of the q’orrine.

“You’re the underworlder, oy?” the pilot says with a wide, jolly smirk. She’s pointedly slimmer than Aia, almost gangly, dressed in mismatched leathers and sporting a pair of goggles that rest on her forehead. Her nametag reads Noolee. “Have you done a lot of jobs like this before? Is it cool? Do you...” she drops her excited voice to a whisper. “...Do you kill a lot of people?”

“Nobody so far, except with kindness,” you reply, offering a small smile of your own. It’s sort of refreshing to meet someone who isn’t looking on you as an underling, even if the pilot would likely change her mind if she knew you were an unemployed numberslummer with no credentials who was shacking with a stranger.

“Oooooooh, you betcha, you betcha. Don’t worry, it’ll just be our secret,” she winks one of her huge, black, almond-shaped eyes in your direction. “Alright, so firsties, since I’m gonna have to rig up some credentials for you when we get to the proper dock, let’s get your cover sorted. We’re gonna need something, so I guess it’s up to you. Whatever you think you can pull off best, yeah?”

A) “Maybe a courtesan? That should give me more options with the, um... seduction thing.” +1 Sensuality

B) “An engineering safety inspector! That’ll let me ask whatever questions I want... though it could be harder to keep my cover intact, I guess.” +1 Inquisition

C) “A socialite. That seems simple enough, and maybe I can get some business contacts while I’m there, too.” +1 Ambition