The FTL Coffee Shop (FTL playthrough pt2)

Friends! When last I left you, we were in dire straights. 

You know that famous scene in the Blues Brothers? "It's a hundred and six miles to Chicago. We've got a full tank of gas, half a pack of cigarettes, it's dark, and we're wearing sunglasses."
"Hit it."

I feel like a similar quote is applicable here.

"It's five gazillion miles to Delta Quadrant. We've got just about zero gas, zero cigarettes, it's always dark, and there is a very real possibility we will all freeze to death in the eternal gloom of space, with none remembering our plight."

"Uhh...hit it? I guess?"

We have one fuel remaining with no stores in sight. Pick a direction, any direction. Let's die there. 

Our final jump leads us to a Mantis cruiser, unsurprisingly, and we have little choice but to board it and make off with as much fuel as we can. Cue desperation music. It's funny how we used to be righteous crusaders. Remember that? Remember when we were clearly the good guys? 

Me either. 

We easily beat the crew, but rather than a hefty reward of space petrol, we find a man who can fix things real good.

"Oh thank God you rescued me from that horrible nightmare! How can I ever repay you?"
"Yeah, no problem, mate. Say, what's your ignition temperature?"

Repeat earlier comment about burning crew for fuel.

Who fixes things and is generally present when you don’t want him to be?

That would be David Puddy, at your service.

Puddy fails to wangle the Johnson Rod into fuel and we drift, helplessly, with the distress beacon blaring.

Hours go by. The vastness of space is such that even if we were to wait here for the rest of our lives, it would only be an eyeblink in the grand lifecycle of stars. The tiny, short-lived creatures crawling over planets are as nothing compared to the span of the celestial bodies they so arrogantly call "theirs". 

The energy gained, expended and generated by all organic beings in all of their lifetimes does not equal a single star. What hope do we have to upset this cosmic cycle? The hope that we can influence anything lasting in this universe is nothing but the vain arrogance of sentience, desperately seeking validation of our tiny, insignificant existences.

Our belief that we can change the universe is a by-product of consciousness. Our blindness to our complete incapacity to do so is a result of that same consciousness.

The crew is stirred out of their philosophical introspection by a Mantis ship investigating our beacon, coming with promises of succour and peace, like a prophet to a spiritually bereft man.

Also like a prophet to a spiritually bereft man, there is an immediate betrayal and attempted robbery.

So many lasers.

They have no less than five crew and a medbay, so it’s going to be tricky. They board us with just one mantis, who is quickly dispatched while the bomb charges. I get very lucky with the four simultaneous laser bursts and not a single one hits me through my two levels of shields, giving us time to get our feet. 

Elaine and Kramer were churning through the enemy but were getting beaten up in return. I was fleeing from room to room with them waiting for my teleporter to get Peterman over to help when I made a crucial mistake and directed them to the wrong room. I choose to interpret this as Kramer tripping over his own feet (a much more likely story I’m sure you’ll agree) and landing face first in front of a homicidal pirate.

Or they were armed with giant flyswats.

Kramer is no more. Restfulness Alcove 5B shall be forever empty in his honour.

I dangle the remains of the pirate who killed Kramer out the airlock, just to take the edge off the grieving process. Moderately successful.

We are now left with the task of selecting a replacement boarder. I have one remaining mantis, Jerry, who would be an obvious choice except for his complete lack of fighting ability and conspicuous abundance of piloting skill. Conversely Peterman has a top-notch fighting reputation, from his time in the murky deltas of southern Vietnam. He’s also a human: squishy and flabby in all the wrong places, with far too little chitin on his bones. 

Losing that much piloting is going to be painful, but I want/need a mantis boarder. Plus, it’s much easier to just point at the enemy and say “Kill” to the mantis rather than explain moral relativity every time to the humans.

Puddy is the new pilot. Let’s hope he drives as well as he mechanics.

Also three fuel! Whee!

Another rebel cruiser! Boo!

Another three fuel! Whee!

Note to self: in the mantis sector there are many mantis ships, with mantis crew, and fighting mantis with mantis takes your melee advantage away. My boarders have lost their edge and I don’t have giant space-cannons to defend myself. Damn.

The missile smashes into my lower decks and leaves a gaping hole in the Coffee Shop but too late to change the tide of battle, and once again we escape cheering into the night, laden with scrap and plutonium.

Oh, choices choices. On one hand, free crewmember. A free mantis crewmember. On the other, the Engi are manipulative bastards and often try to trick you. 

I have no willpower: I can’t pass up that opportunity. More fool me, right?

But it pays off! A strung-out desperado just barely keeping it together joins my crew. Just the sort of man you want on board a tiny, vulnerable pocket of atmosphere amidst endless vacuum, no? Who else do we know who is just barely keeping a lid on his simmering pot of explosive rage?

Bookman it is!

The Engi are so weak that the crew wonder how they could have captured him in the first place.

Finally make it to a store for fuel-related and hull-patching reasons. Also some mind control, which enables me to steal an enemy crew member for a small amount of time. Assorted other upgrades and reactor power: watch out, Newmans!

And the very next jump is an automated scout. Cedric and Bob haunt us still! Asteroid fields have a constant bombardment of shield-depleting rocks, which can open you up to enemy fire. We brace ourselves for a tough fight while the engines charge...

…but we dispatch the scout easily. Yay bombs! And we also get a weapon for our troubles at the exit beacon. We can't use it due to our self-imposed limit on weaponry (or the incompetency of our gunner), but it's worth holding on to for later sale.  Things are looking scrappy!

This is like getting a howitzer from the old lady you helped to cross the street.

Also look at this nonsense.

I’m a fan of the red sectors, as I've said: there is more stuff going on, more risk and more reward. We either get Rock or Rock – with tough crew and shooting shield-penetrating missiles – followed by a bunch of pointless civilians or pesky Zoltans with non-teleportable super shields. Not a good outlook. we choose one at random and blast off towards our destiny. 

First jump in the Rock sector and we are faced with a moral quandary. Rockmen attempting to weasel out of payment for fair work done. 

"Guys, guys - let me be the voice of reason here..."
*snicker*

Well we didn’t travel trillions of miles to pussy-foot about – we’re the Federation, dammit! Those Rocks won’t be taking advantage of this particular pod of swamp-dwelling, mucus-secreting innocents! I contact the Rock vessel and show off my elite squad of insectoid miners (get it? Miners? Because they’re killing Rocks?) and their captain goes as pale as granite. We heft our pickaxes and shovels and he grates something about sending a payment to the slugs they were attempting to strongarm.

The slugs then give us the same deal in gratitude they offered the rocks, and we have an upgraded reactor at a fraction of the standard price.

The next point is a store, and we finally offload all our unnecessary (read: requiring more than one power) weapons and upgrade a bunch of systems. We have a full weapon bay – a Small Bomb, Basic Laser and a Healing Burst, but with our limitation to only one power only one can be run at any time…which is not an inconsiderate disadvantage. These three options would be very useful.

But no! We must keep to our challenge, and the Coffee Shop must bravely soldier on. Plus, I’m super excited to try out the Mind Control...now level two!

Next jump point, space pirates. The perfect crime. These particular pirates are well armoured - three levels of shields to my two. I am very lucky that teleporters work through normal shields. Because three shields is lots of shields.

But their four crew is not enough crew, and a hefty sum of scrap is soon mine, along with five hull points repaired. Things are looking happy, pappy.

And then this happens, which I don’t think I’ve ever seen before.

Look at us, being all noble and shit.

Teleport my crew on board the slaver in an attempt to free the slaves? Well that was pretty much my plan anyway - being as noble and upstanding as we are. Except I was going to do it (probably) a lot less subtly than this option might indicate.

Success! We stole a guy!

With less bloodshed and warcries than I am comfortable with, we nonetheless manage to wangle a free crewmember from their fetid holds. He seems a bit…unorthodox, and immediately takes a shine to our anti-matter thrusters, refusing to leave the engine room, claiming he’s “just got to top up a few lubricants”.

Tony, the psychotic mechanic, joins us. I can’t help but feel vulnerable with his presence.

Our attempts at slave liberation are not sadly not unnoticed, the slavers promptly begin warming up their colossal cannon. Note to self: it doesn’t matter how skillful, dedicated and/or psychotic your mechanics are, neutronium cannons will adversely affect your travel speed and life expectancy. 

Mind Controlled Rockmen are very handy assets. We drop the crew without a single missile going off and claim a bunch more scrap and yet another crewmember! I don’t think I’ve ever collected so many!

"Your name isn't Newt, is it?"

A Zoltan, no less. Well they are electric in nature, and this one is a gunner to boot. Who is an electric nutjob who picks fights for a living?

That would be one Jackie Chiles. There is only enough room on the Coffee Shop for eight crew, and something has got to give. Well, clearly Tony has got to go to make room for him. Presumably he stole a lifepod after becoming attached and jetted away to the Engi Homeworlds.

I do some rearranging of crew and put Jackie in the gunnery, shifting George to the sensors. He can spot squirrels, why not enemy vessels?

Another jump, another handful of crushed stone beneath my claws. New scrap, new shields. Ooo-rah, things are looking good!

That’s how this game gets you, luring you into a false sense of security. Except that it’s not actually a false sense, because you know that you’re gonna get screwed sooner or later. Probably at the Distress beacon which beckons to me on my next jump.

Ooo, the rare stasis pod event.

In their panic, they forget how to travel independently of each other.

Well we sure as hell don’t need the weapon. Gimme that stasis chamber! I happen to know that this pod leads to a new ship being available for use, thus my enthusiasm. So now we need to get to the Zoltan Homeworlds. They have advanced stasis technology and can sort out the next step in this mystery.

Onwards! Rock ship to brutalise, being refused service at a trading post: the usual. Nothing out of the ordinary vilification we’ve come to expect on our sojourn. Snapped up a bargain-price Piloting upgrade to level three: Georgey Boy with the bargaining!

Next point is a haywire defence system gone…haywire.

We'll help. For money. 

Fortunately I have just such a response to that, Cheap George the Engi. Again he comes to the rescue: he is really paying for himself this run-through!

I think the stores are taunting me: I keep seeing the Weapon Pre-Igniter for sale. Oh, the fates toy with us and our self-imposed restrictions!

At the end of Sector 4 and I’m torn: to buy Hacking or not? Being able to knock enemy weapon systems is super handy, but we seem to be doing well enough without it. We'll keep our scrap and put it towards something more concrete. 

The Rebels catch us at the final sector, but Mind Control and high engines let us escape before too much damage is done. We high-tail it out of there into a Zoltan-controlled sector hoping to find someone to deal with our stasis pod, completely forgetting that in Zoltan sectors there are Zoltan ships…which have Zoltan super shields. Which block teleporters. Which is how I board ships. Which is the FOCAL POINT OF MY ENTIRE DAMN VESSEL.

You're in no position to be making demands, drifting helpless survivor.

So this could be bad.

I could bring down the super shields with my single laser, which will obviously take quite some time, all the while their six laser battery, two bombs and beam weapon will have a grand old time tearing apart the Coffee Shop.

Or we could, y’know, run away. A proven technique I'm sure you'll agree. 

Naaaaa…screw ‘em. Engage the pirates. 

A single slug and a Rockman crew. My engines prove dodgingly useful and their bombs are only ions, so no system damage. We whittle down their impenetrable green nonsense and quickly take control. The ex-captain rewards us with the augment Advanced FTL Navigation, enabling travel to any previously-visited beacon. I’ve never found much use for it, but it couldn’t hurt, right?

It’s not helping with the endless super shielded Zoltans, I know that much.

I have grown very attached to my crew, and am loathe to risk them in return for some paltry payment, reluctantly given. As such, when we happen across a research station fully ablaze and desperately trying to extinguish the flames, we simply turn off the commlink. It is eerie to watch flames in space, and eerier still to watch grown men scream and cry in dead silence as the videolinks from the station one by one go blank, their last images of roaring inferno and faces of pleading desperation.

The crew is despondent. Even for my hardened gang of brigand sociopaths, that was cold. Our next point is a drifting refugee ship with a distress beacon active. We try to assuage some of our survivor’s guilt and attempt to contact the ailing vessel, only to have a Zoltan ship jump in at the last minute and accuse us of criminal enterprise! Nothing repairs torn moral fibre like hot-blooded slaughter, and we begin.

I'm not even mad. I really just needed an excuse.

Jackie is proving himself to be a mediocre gunner, and misses three consecutive shots. They get a couple of lucky shots through and do some mild damage, but soon all thoughts of those burning, helpless scientists are gone, replaced with wanton bloodlust and piles upon piles of scrap and weaponry.

I’m starting to get the feeling maybe we’re the bad guys? Maybe? Could it be possible?

Note to self: get a super-shield bypass.

A rare non-Zoltan ship in this sector provides us with, wait for it, ANOTHER CREW MEMBER.

An Engi who can Pilot and work the shields. You can never have too many Engi, with double repair speed. We kick Banya off with his only slightly better ability to work the shields, and leave him at some pretentious gym-planet. Or, far more likely, just throw him out the airlock, kicking and screaming. 

So we have yet another prisoner who is happy to sign up with a bunch of clearly amoral mercenaries, only in it to make a buck? Mr Lippman, with his unethical, muffin-stealing ways, seems like a good fit.

We sell a bunch of stuff at a store and have the option to buy a drone system. It would be very nice to get a defence drone Mk 1 as we really need some protection against missiles. Also Super Shield Bypass! Finally!

We leave the store fat and happy and only get fatter and happier with our next few jumps. Bit of trouble with a Mantis Scout with five crew, but Jerry, Elaine, mind-control technology and cunningly placed gelignite manage to overcome their numerical superiority.

On a side note, simply teleporting high-explosives onto enemy vessels seems a somewhat…primitive method. We have mastered faster-than-light travel, the maintenance of human life in artificial environments, and have access to all the alien technology ancient species have spent millennia developing…and we’re still just blowing shit up with scavenged TNT.

And then, some knowledgeable Zoltan provide this!

"Hey guys, can you fix this please?"
"We're at war! There are armed rebels converging here as we speak! We don't have time for trinkets!"
"..."
"Fine. Give me ten minutes."

We eagerly donate the pod to their mercies and receive…

…another goddamn crew member.

"Should we really be trusting this unknown alien who has been in stasis for maybe thousands of yea-"
"Set a course for wherever the crystalman says!"

To be fair, he’s an exotic alien who makes an excellent boarder, but come on! I hate having to turf all these valuable crew through the airlock just because they won’t sleep on an airbed in the common room.

Well, as we found him drifting helplessly in a sea of nothingness, so too will we name him after another drifter – clinging to nothing but hope in a sea of loneliness, Russel Dalrymple!

Peterman, current engineer (not Puddy, for some reason) is clearly the man to lose, as Russell displays equal talent for squeezing power out of the drives. His Argentinean fighting technique – the Red Jaguar Thrust-kick – will be missed. He accepts his fate, and holds his head high as he strides nobly into the airlock. 

As it transpires, after buying the shield bypass, we didn’t encounter another Zoltan ship in the rest of the Zoltan sector. Curse those fates!

316 scrap at the end of sector five ain’t too bad, and we press on, hoping to find the Rock Homeworlds. There is one red sector on our flight path, directly before the last stand. Its identity and inhabitants are obscured at this distance, so we can but hope it's full of rockmen and press on, hoping to finally unravel the mysteries of the Crystal Cruiser...

In Sector Six – Engi controlled – we come across a Engi ship that does the machine equivalent of requesting a new pair of pants when they see us. We flex our muscles and perform the ritual Mwoksass war dance of our tribe, and as much as could be said emotionless machines could do it, the Engi tremble in fear.

Suggestion: learn English. Outcome: less accidental loss of goods. Status: doofus.

For some reason, the crew determine that violently bullying innocents into submission is more ethically acceptable than leaving civilians to burn, and we hold a great feast in celebration of our fortune.

I’m starting to think my crew has lost their moral compass.

Oh hey there Nebulous Green Field, guess what? YOU HAVE NO POWER OVER ME!

Finally! A chance to use the bypass unit!

Boy, without those super shields, Zoltan ships are really very easy and their crew very fragile. Who knew?

We next stumble across some citizens in some distress.

I love sweet deals like this. Thank you George!

That is a…less sweet deal. Maybe slow down there, champ.

As if to seal our newfound status as “openly engaging in piratical behaviour”, we again find ourselves in a moral quandary with a Mantis on our ship claiming sanctuary from the Engi.

You know what? We’re good with crew, and I’m developing a real nasty streak. Screw that mantis. Give me the scrap.

Calm down buddy - they can't do anything worse to you than would happen on this ship.

He doesn’t go easily, apparently. But nonetheless we sell him back to his captors and move on, counting our wealth. And patching up the holes in the wall. 

We get a bit hairy towards the end, and risk a last-jump-point confrontation with the rebels for an opportunity to get to a store and buy a Cloaking Device, which would really REALLY be handy against the flagship. Or any ship, really.

We risk, and we lose. The shop has nothing. We briefly consider cutting the arms off the shopkeeper and strapping them to his sign as a warning to future merchants.

*hiss* “Do you have a cloaking device, human wares-merchant?”

Merchant, eyeing nervously the limbs adorning the airlock: “Umm…yes?”

“Goooooooooood. We offer you harmonious flesh in trade.”

“You know what, glistening insectoid pirate? That sounds fine, just fine!” *nervous laughter*

Yep. Definitely not gonna make that exit in time.

But the rebels give us little trouble and the engines power up before any serious Anti-Ship Battery damage can mount. Our navigator eagerly brings up the co-ordinates for the next sector, hoping to find some similarity to the vague directions given by the Crystal Dalrymple.

We set course for the Rock Homeworlds, wetting our lips at the thought of the untold treasures therein.

And there it is. Like a bright jewel nestled amongst stores and distress beacons, the Crystal target. There is a great chittering from amongst the crew in joy.

In the meantime, on my journey to that fabled source of all Swarovski, look at this.

Blinding trusting mentally impaired strangers? You betcha!

*sigh* More decisions! As much as it pains me, I think Bookman is the man(tis) to lose. He’s only on the doors, and it would be nice to have a fire-proof repairer. Bookman puts up a bit of a fight, but is eventually forced through the airlock. It's not explicitly mentioned in-game, but we are actually murdering our comrades in cold blood every time a crew member is "dismissed". 

In commemoration of his affinity for fire, Mr Ross joins the crew. He leads us immediately to the store to purchase a cloaking device. Between him and George, there is nothing we cannot obtain.

Normally well before this point I’ve had power troubles. As in, right now I can actually produce/afford enough energy to run my numerous systems: engines, shields, mind control, teleporter and now cloaking. Then of course I remember I have no huge weapon systems sucking away at my battery. I’m free to run any number of strange and exotic features and have plenty of power to spare. It feels good.

Also something that feels good: getting to the quest marker.

Reactivate that thing, baby! Russell forces his way to the bridge, pressing buttons and chanting in a strange rhythmic pattern as the dull crystal cylinder begins to glow and pulsate. It spins slowly, increasing until it is a blur on our screens, seemingly growing as the pulsing becomes more urgent. With each pulse a ring of liquid bursts out, dispersing rapidly into the vacuum of space. Russell’s chanting grows louder, the alien cries echoing throughout The Coffee Shop. The crew watch in fascination at the performance: a ritual totally unknown to any in the Federation.

The bursts of liquid grow in size and strength. They spread out like ripples in a pond, but spinning in turn around the strange artefact, now so bright as to obscure its shape. The first fringes of these ripples touch the shields, which crackle with energy as they dissipate the attack. Russell immediately shuts them down, allowing the next pulse to rock the ship as the wave passes through us. Puddy rushes to reactivate the shields but is blocked by a solid, implacable arm of living crystal. The chanting grows into a wild keening: a bizarre, resonating shriek that pierces directly into the skull. 

Suddenly Russell ceases his screech and his hands fly over the console, the Coffee Shop lurching forward violently, our engines fighting with the pules from the object. Crew are thrown about, but Russel remains steady, confidently plunging the Coffee Shop directly into the maelstrom, ignoring the savage turbulence and squealing alarms. Power is abruptly lost, and in the seconds before emergency generators kick in the only light source is the artefact, illuminating Russell's rictus, obscene grin as he pilots the ship on a collision course towards the blinding, alien device. 

The ship picks up speed, the engines roaring. The object is now close enough that its brightness blocks visibility. Puddy starts to scream at the alien pilot, his arm across his eyes in an effort to keep himself from being blinded. He half-crawls to the instrument panel to try to wrest control of his ship from an obviously suicidal maniac, but it's too late: the artefact looms directly ahead mere seconds from impact. Puddy tries to warn the others as best he can, and crouches down, bracing himself against the navigation console.

But there is no impact. The Coffee Shop slows quickly, the crippling luminescence fades and silence envelopes the vessel. Puddy slowly opens his eyes and squints around him, not knowing what to expect. The viewscreen shows a blue-grey swirl, patterns moving and shifting in a strange, not-quite-liquid medium. Russell shakes everybody out of their reverie, quietly offering the odd advice "don't fight it."

The crew explode at the stranger, demanding to know what he has done and what he means. None notice at first.

Floating in the pseudo-liquid, the Coffee Shop is not proof against its otherworldly properties, and it begins to seep in. Crystalline tendrils extrude through the welds in the hull like caterpillar legs, oozing out in multitudes and spreading over the interior walls. Russell ignores the crew and stares up at the intrusion on the upper roof joins. The crew turn at his stare, and jolt in shock at the substance making a mockery of their inviolable vehicle. The silver substance extrudes more and more tendrils as it grows in size; psuedopods rush across every surface, devouring all in a silver, non-Newtonian tide.

The slow moving Mr Ross not nimble enough to dodge out of the way of the bizarre, spreading pool. A handful of tendrils brush against his giant foot, and silver goop suddenly leaps up the creviced leg. The Rockman roars in pain and crashes to the floor, swiftly being entirely covered by the substance, now acting with apparent purpose, and even sentience. The struggling form’s muffled cries are soon silent, and still.

The crew witness this with abject horror and quickly panic, rushing to get away. But there is no escape - the goop is everywhere. Fear causes a cacophony of anguished, terrified cries, but above all there is Russell, crying out "Do not fight it! Do not fight!" until his own engulfment. One by one they are smothered, their bodies lying inert under the waves of shivering extrusions.

Jackie is the last one to be cornered by the goop. There is no doubt in his mind - it is guided by a higher intelligence and has backed the Zoltan into a corner. There is no where to flee. He casts one last despairing glance at the obscured forms of his fallen comrades, and feels a deep rage well up inside him. He lets out a wild, up-country yell and launches himself into the silvery mass, flinging punches and savage kicks in a kamikaze mission.

It is of course in vain, and the noble Jackie Chiles is soon rendered unconscious and immobile as everybody else. 

I feel this doesn't sum up the magnitude of what just happened.

The crew awaken after an unknown, unknowable period of time. They appear to have been physically undamaged by the...process, whatever it was. Russell is forced to do some very fast talking to worm his way out of being unceremoniously forced into the reactor. He explains that the process was necessary to allow use of the ancient crystal transportation device. Without it, the crew would all be scattered into atoms across light-years of space.

The navigation console is flummoxed, with no visible star systems matching anything in Federation territory. The crew close the fuel cap and drag Russell back to the bridge, demanding answers. He brings up a map of the local area and taps a small, undistinguished specimen. "Here. My people offer their service to the Federation. They have a gift for you, here."

Apparently mollified at the thought of free stuff, Russell is forgiven and they all get on with the serious business of taking things from others in a strange new region of space, completely untouched by humans and unscarred by their wars...

…and promptly come across a goddamn automated scout, built by the Rebels. Well it clearly wasn’t that isolated a region.

Overcompensation on a machine is...difficult to explain.

Three shields, no crew, two attack drones and four guns? Christ, this is one hectic auto-scout! We gotta get the hell out of here!

The next beacon is a Federation ship. So it’s less a “hidden worlds untrod by humans” and more “north Las Vegas” – plenty of people visit, it’s just off the tourist route. And apparently nobody talks about what happens there.

More choices to expose my flawed rationalisation process.

The crew is torn.

We don’t really want to help deserters, do we? I mean, it’s understandable they want to flee a brutal and bloody civil war, but outright stealing Federation craft to do so? That's an ethical grey area at best, I'm sure you'll agree.

And simply fleeing a destructive conflict doesn’t make it any less likely to kill the innocents left behind – that’s just burying your head in the sand, like a cowardly, apolitical ostrich.

In fact, if you want to get technical, they are currently in illegal possession of Federation material. Material that could be being put to good use against the Rebels. That could be construed as Rebel sympathising in certain lights.

And are we to believe their "deserter" story in the first place? Who knows what nefarious activities they are actually perpetrating out here in the Crystal worlds - taking advantage of the peaceful, inoffensive crystalmen as they no doubt are. Violation of neutrality shows a lack of character, and fraying moral fibre.

In fact I've half a mind to teach these naughty boys a lesson - they cannot be allowed to simply pass by without some token of our displeasure. Is there no depth to which these insurrectionist scum will not stoop?! Planting spies to manipulate and sow the seeds of rebellion even in those innocent bystanders in the conflict? Barbarism!

Boarders to their stations! Shields to full! Charge the bombs! Warm up the teleporter! And bring me an ostrich!

We quickly make our way through the beacons to the coordinates given by Russel, picking up a Repair Arm and Laser Charger along the way. We even meet some of the local fauna here in the Crystal Worlds. And promptly kill them.

Crystal weaponry is very cool. It functions like a laser except that it can pierce a layer of shields, effectively reducing the enemy ship’s shields by one level. We score a Heavy Crystal Mk 1 from the shell of our first kill, and wire it up. Hopefully we might get some use, just for fun.

The quest point looms without much action, and voila!

The MacGuffin is delivered!

We get a ship, repairs, fuel, augments and scrap! Not bad for travelling untold billions of kilometres and following the directions of someone who’d been in stasis for a completely unknown period of time. That seems totally safe, and completely sane.

We are full up on augments, and I am faced with a decision. The repair arm is very handy, although we are just about to come to the final sector, so its use will decline. That’s all the justification I need, and we abandon the life-giving repair arm in exchange for something with Vengeance in its name. As all of us would.

As an aside, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I wish I’d stop getting crew.

Umm, you know there's a fire, right? 

Another Crystalman. They are truly very handy, but I really can’t see a use for him. I rename him the briefly-friendly Ramon and dismiss him instantly. Sorry buddy - it's the airlock for you. Not many pools in the Coffee Shop.

Finally we get back to civilised space, straight into Sector 8. The end of the road, for the Federation or the Rebellion. We are treated to a bunch of fuel and basically told to go beat up their giant super-ship all by ourselves.

Bitch, they ain’t got no chance.