Trade Platform Georgia

Compilatron

Trade Platform Georgia

Description

Trade Platform Georgia is a station set up by a seemingly neutral faction of some old merchants, a crew of about 5 people. They are advertising fuel, ammo and scrap metal for sale. They also claim to have a cafe selling home brewed coffee and "tea".

The station includes a docking gantry, suitable for at most 4 frigate class ships, as well as a small hanger for an outdated mining vessel. Said mining vessel is wholly unsuitable for anything beyond collecting ores and shuttling them back to the station, and lacks any FTL drive or weaponry to speak of. The station is positioned within an asteroid belt, which is likely the source of materials for what wares the station provides.

The station also features a hydroponics garden, visible externally, as well as a small control tower, serving as a command and communications station. It lacks any long range communications systems, besides an FTL beacon which the station uses to advertise it's presence.

The stations defences are laughable, at most point defence systems for keeping away loose bits of debris. It has no shielding.

Diagnostics readout

Systems:
Atmospherics: Online (100%)
Power: Online (4 solar arrays, 4 active)
Plumbing: Online (100%)
Defence: Online (12 point defence systems, 12 active)

Docking Systems
Gantry 1: Occupied (@Drakador_Chaos)
Gantry 2: Occupied (@Rifqi_Fajar_Zain)
Gantry 3: Occupied (@Flubbery)
Gantry 4: Occupied (@kola2134)

Hanger 1: Occupied (@Compilatron)
Hanger 2: Occupied (@Avro_Lancaster)

Sectors
L1:
Hanger: Nominal
Cargo bay:Nominal
Utility: Nominal

L2:
Docking gantry: Nominal
Main deck: Nominal
Crew quarters: Nominal
Hydroponics: Nominal

L3:
Control deck: Nominal

Crew

Jackson "Jack" Harrison (Captain)
Harry "Harley" York (Logistics Technician)
Trevor "Trev" Baker (Botanist)
Edward "Warden" Pucker (Communications Operator)
D'oro (Mining Technician)

Status

Going with the flow

Dumb

Compilatron "...What the hell is that thing anyway?" Dasha, after spending some time trying to track down an anomalous creature, only to find it disappearing as if it never existed, decide to just float around, doublechecking her notes and let the inertia take her to wherever she could find......

As if by mere curiosity, one of the guys in the trade platform picked up the binoculars at just the right time and looked at just the right direction, finding what seems to be a humanoid with a boxy backpack slowly floats towards their station. The gesture of the humanoid seemed to have curled into a ball, and with no signs of it moving whatsoever, its best to think that whoever it is, it doesn't know there is a station located here

Avro_Lancaster

Compilatron a small ship flys by it is very, very small only 7.05 meters wide and 9.20 meters long although, it looks like a military jet it is not coming up on the station's radar the ship makes a comms line,
"This is HE 162 pilot d'oro I was wondering if I could dock for repairs, seeing as my engine has failed and am now drifting through space," the man says with a sense of calmness in his voice.

ThereGoesHalfMyShip

A mess of a battleship jumps in, appearing to be an incomplete structure, with several exterior doors and rails to attach parts of ships and expand itself.

It sends a grainy transmission of an unidentifiable voice, asking if the station still has fuel, and what its cost would be

Compilatron

ThereGoesHalfMyShip A rather excited man's voice is sent as a response, likely not the first fargone ship they've seen, but what might be their first sale of the day.

"Greetings! Welcome to Trade Platform Georgia! We're offering a fine deal, 500 credits a piece for some FTL fuel, brewed right 'ere for you!"

From a distance, the silloette of a man is on an observation deck atop the station, and the glint of some binoculars is visible. The mans voice becomes less chearful.

"Hey... uhh... you alright there buddy? We don't exactly offer any repair services but I know a lad a few systems away who might help."

Some muffled voice is vaguelly heard off-mic.

"Uhuh... oh. Well they were raided by pirates. I'm not sure your ship will fit on the docking gantry unless you have any ideas."

ThereGoesHalfMyShip

Compilatron

“sorry about your friends... anyway, your price is a bit steep where we come from, but I’m sure it’s nothing compared to more... populated areas. As for the docking, let us worry about that... hope your clamps are sturdy”

A puff of white gas comes from one of the larger seams of the battleship, and about 30% of a common pirate corvette slides off. The unused parts of the corvette has been replaced with storage and universal docking equipment. At the end of its cautious and seemingly unstable approach, the corvette turns to it’s side and docks roughly, with little help from its burnt out thrusters. The cargo hold airlock opens, waiting for further action by the station

Compilatron

ThereGoesHalfMyShip The station's airlock accepted the ship and allowed it to dock, amongst a radio silence likely instilled from a merchant half expecting the scrap heap to tumble out of control and tear the station in two. Now with the docking craft locked in place, the silence was broken.

"Alright... now with that out of the way, let's get your wares."

The airlock beeps and opens up, expecting whoever's aboard to come out, if anyone.

ThereGoesHalfMyShip

Compilatron

With both airlocks open, the station crew can clearly see into the small cargo hold. 2,500 credits sit in the far corner, along with an empty ftl fuel container. No crew are in sight, but there is another door leading to the cockpit. The poor transmission starts up again:
”Take the credits, deposit the fuel. We’ll soon be on our way.”

Compilatron

ThereGoesHalfMyShip Not one to upset even a rust bucket who would likely have enough guns to turn the station into fine dust, especially given the station's rather pathetic defences, the merchant accept the credits, and rolls a canister of 5 units of fuel into the cargo bay, taking the empty one in exchange.

Curious about the ship, the merchant takes the opportunity to take a peak inside the cockpit

(Should make a note that the station's crew consists of at most 3-4 people)

ThereGoesHalfMyShip

Compilatron

From what the merchant can see, the cockpit is in shambles. All that’s left of it is the main pilot’s seat and a modified control panel, exposed wiring and the like dotted about. What’s more interesting is the pilot, who is wearing a lite jacket and hat, and most intriguingly, has a robotic right arm

“looks good” comes the battleship’s message, while the corvette pilot waits for the merchant to leave so they can start the undocking process

(The battleship isn’t too big, holding ₂₅ crew, and while its defenses consist of weak, outdated shields scattered around the ship, its variety and numbers of weapons are nothing to laugh at)

Compilatron

ThereGoesHalfMyShip The merchant departs the ship hastily, however, still wondering what other stories it held...

ThereGoesHalfMyShip

Compilatron

The corvette closes its airlock and departs, thrusters burning away what little paint may still be on the station. The way it impacts the battleship is enough to make any captain cringe, but it soon slides into its resting place. After a few minutes, space starts folding in front of the ship, and a final transmission comes in: “this is the LRC Cable Liner, heading out”. While the ship jumps through the fold (and one of its main thrusters explode), a high energy signature, detectable by even the most primitive sensors, occurs on the other side. The fold collapses shortly after.

Compilatron

Dumb "Y'all see that?"

The merchant on the control deck looked closely at the humanoid form floating through space, before handing the binoculars to another crew member who had just come upstairs with a cup of coffee.

"That a human out there?"

Both of them were equally bewildered by how a person got this far out in an EVA suit, before they just shrugged it off.

"Whatever, they're probably dead."

"We need some new gear... what's say we strip 'em for a suit?"

"Aye, I'll prep Greg."

Within a minute, the small mining vessel that had been berthed in the station's hanger fired up it's engines and departed the station. The humble mining vessel had seen a long working life, covered in scratches and welding joints. The yellow paint was faded, but the name "Greg" was painted on it's side. The shuttle quietly crept though space towards the humanoid. Although the vacuum of space made the shuttle dead quiet, the control deck operator watched on carefully, giving instructions via radio.

"Go about 500m dead ahead..."

"Looked further than that"

"Nah, it's drifting"

"Gotcha"

"Correct course about 50 meters starboard"

"50 meters starboard..."

Before long, the mining shuttle arrived at the humanoid form, readied with a salvage claw to move in and grab them.

Dumb

Compilatron "Huh? oh there is someone located in here...yawns...time for some proper business i guess" she stash away her notebook back into the backpack, and do a stretch while allowing the mining shuttle to bring her to wherever it pleases

The humanoid enclosed in the salvage claw seemed to not give any care about the situation it is in, as it stretches its arms as if it just woken up from sleep and simply lay there

Compilatron

Dumb
"FUCK!!" the salvage pilot screamed, jostling the humanoid inside the grasp of the claw with force.
"What?! What happened?!"
"It moved!"
"What do you mean it moved?"
"It moved on it's own, what do you think I mean?!"
"You mean to tell me they're alive?"
"Hell if know!"
"Get it back here right now!"

The mining shuttle stabilised itself and made a beeline back to the hanger, where the claws dropped their payload, and the crew of 4 gathered around the humanoid to see who - or what it was.

Compilatron

Avro_Lancaster A microphone clicks on.

"I'msorrybutwedon'tdorepairsgoodbye" a hurried voice says, followed by the distinct sound of a microphone being dropped.

someone shouts off-mic "WE HAVE A MILITARY VESSEL IN THE SECTOR GET TH..." before the mic cuts out.

Dumb

Compilatron "Ugh...that sure is a bumpy trip, is that how people treat strangers around here?" Dasha slowly stand up in the gaze of the four crews "What, haven't seen a female in ages huh? well this body isn't for those purposes, so don't even consider it!" She says as she fling her right hand in a "shoo" gesture

Upon closer inspection, based on her completely skin-tight spacesuit showing her curves, as well as her snapping personality, its no doubt that she is a human female......but can a normal human female gets thrown around inside a salvaging claw and still be conscious enough to snap at others?

Avro_Lancaster

Compilatron the pilot hearing the man try to calm him down by saying "uh mate I come in peace, my guns have no ammo and have stopped working a long time ago, and seeing as you don't do repairs can I at least dock so I don't die from lack of oxygen because my tanks are almost empty

Compilatron

Dumb One of the crew, who had a makeshift sewn badge on his arm stood apart from the rest. A captain? If you can have a captain on a crew this size. He furrowed his brows, arms crossed, and shook his head.

"Lady, who in th' 6 arms of the milky way are y'?"

Another one of the crew looked at the suit with distaste. He whispered to the other something about how this salvage was a waste, the suit isn't fit for EVA in the slightest.

"How is she aliv' then?" they murmered "Think she's one of 'em fancy gene mods or even an android?"

"whatever, y' probably tore it with your maneuverin' anyway"

The apparent captain ushered the crew to keep their silence.

"I'd like to ask in the politest way possible for y' to explain how the fuck y' got all the way out here in... that." he said, pointing to the suit.

Compilatron

Avro_Lancaster An argument insues that was only vaguely audible through the microphone, before one of them storms out

"Alright alright, fine, y' can dock. But if I even SEE one of those... lasers online I'm gonna..."

The comms operator then realises he has nothing to leverage himself with.

"Look, the pod's a bit busy right now, you'll have to dock yourself, have the RCS fuel for the manoeuvre?"

kola2134

Flowing like blood and spilling across the darkness of the void, reality tears and rips at the edge of the system as a sine ship lies upon the wound in reality between dimension. What seems a 'cargo' ship exits the tear. Large containers towed on its side and behind the ship.

Compilatron

kola2134 "Finally, something that isn't a wreckage!"

A short cheer is heard off mic from another crew member, before they realise the mic's still on.

"Hello, welcome to Trade Platform Georgia! We got fuel, scrap, ore, ammo, what takes your fancy?"

Dumb

Compilatron "hmm... well its pretty hard to explain my origin completely......ahh i know, say, you guys know those gigantic space thing flying around? i chased one of it to test the weapons that i made and simply lose track of where it went, then through some floating around with the built-up inertia, i arrived in here." she just spill it plainly like its nothing, and notice the curiosity in the crew's eyes. "As for this...suit, its more just for not being completely nude, as for its composition......maybe i would consider revealing it with a reasonable price?"