Sirens shred the corridor as Sion hauls Melissa Hartwell through smoke and falling dust. The observation deck seal has blown wide open behind them, and the deck above keeps shedding metal like rain.
Melissa Hartwell
You can drag me all you like, Officer. If the purge reaches black archive, your arrest means nothing.
A burst of emergency light washes over a cracked wall panel. For an instant, a maintenance screen flickers on, showing a station-wide lockdown map and one route still live, the command core relay.
Sion
The relay is still transmitting. If the archive is tied to it, the conspiracy is bigger than one arrest.
Sion tightens his grip and keeps moving, steering Hartwell toward the nearest access junction as another impact rattles the floor. Ahead, the escape pod corridor glows red, but the command relay sits one level below it.
Melissa Hartwell
Take me there, then. If you want answers, you need the relay before this station tears itself apart.
The choice is now clear, keep custody of Hartwell, reach the relay, and pull the proof before Command Station Alpha collapses.
✓ Quest Accepted
Reach the command core relay
“Sion pushes Melissa against the wall, knocking her hat to the ground, while she’s handcuffed behind her back. Sion: “Enough, Melissa! What is the black archive?!””
SUCCESS (Superb Intimidation, rolled +2)
Sion slams Hartwell into the cracked wall. Her cap skitters off and spins across the dust. She does not cry out, only sucks in a tight breath as the impact jars her cuffs.
Sion
Enough, Melissa. What is the black archive?
Melissa Hartwell
A sealed record vault, Officer. The station’s ugly history, erased incidents, blackmail files, purge authorizations. Things Command cannot survive in daylight.
Hartwell lifts her chin against the wall, eyes sharp despite the blow. Dust drifts between them, and the relay route still glows on the nearby panel like a promise he has not reached yet.
Melissa Hartwell
The archive is not the target. It is the lock. The relay is the key, and someone already knows how to turn it.
A faint tremor passes through the corridor, rattling loose grit from the ceiling. Hartwell’s expression hardens, then shifts into a thin, dangerous calm as she measures Sion through the debris.
Melissa Hartwell
If you take me to the relay, I can show you who built the lock. If you waste time here, the station decides for both of us.
Director's note
Give me an estimation if he succeeds
“Sion observes the sounds and damage of the station trying to determine how long until it explodes.. While he presses her against the wall.”
SUCCESS (Good Perception, rolled -1)
Sion keeps Hartwell pinned and listens past her breathing. The corridor answers in layers, a low structural moan under the deck, a sharp tick from a stressed seam, then a brief rattle of loose fragments tapping the floor. He reads the station like a failing machine and gets a clear measure, not of hope, but of time.
The damage is active, but not at the edge yet. The frame is shedding stress fast, and the collapse is close enough to matter, far enough to work with.
Melissa Hartwell
You hear it too. Good. Then you know I am not bluffing.
Hartwell’s bare head stays turned into the wall, cuffs tight behind her back. Even pressed there, she watches him from the corner of her eye as dust slides off the cracked plaster around her shoulder.
Melissa Hartwell
The station gives you minutes, Officer. Less if someone triggers the next fault cascade.
Sion’s hand stays firm at her back while his estimate settles. He now knows the corridor will hold just long enough for a hard decision, and no longer.
Melissa Hartwell
So, are you taking the relay route, or standing here when the walls let go?
“Sion grabs Melissa’s hair and pulls her head back so she can see him while she’s handcuffed behind her back. Sion firmly says, “You deserve to rot in prison. But I’m not going to risk your life and mine just to secure more evidence….””
SUCCESS (Superb Intimidation, rolled -3)
Sion jerks Hartwell’s head back by the hair, forcing her line of sight off the wall and onto him. Her cuffs bite at her wrists as she squares her shoulders, and his warning lands hard in the smoke-thick corridor.
Sion
You deserve prison. I am not risking your life, or mine, for more evidence.
Melissa Hartwell
There. That is the law speaking, not the panic. Good.
Melissa Hartwell
Then hear me clearly, Officer. If you want the relay, move now. If you linger, the station will take the choice from both of us.
A sting flashes across Sion’s knuckles from her cuff chain as he tightens his grip, and a few more fragments rain down from the cracked seam above. Hartwell does not pull free, but her breathing sharpens at the pain.
Melissa Hartwell
The relay is past that bend. I can get you there, or I can die in the rubble with my secrets intact. Which is it?
Sion leaves Corridor outside the observation deck on Command Station Alpha behind and arrives at GPO Ship 115.
“Sion: “Neither…”. Sion grabs her by the arm and rushes down the corridor toward his vessel, GPO Ship 115.”
SUCCESS (Legendary Agility, rolled -1)
GPO Ship 115 hums under emergency power, steady and metallic. Sion brings Hartwell in hard from the hatch, and the ship’s clean air feels almost cold after the smoke-choked station.
Sion
Neither.
He catches her cuffed arm and keeps moving, guiding her past the intake terminal with its red pending seal. Hartwell’s boots scrape once, then she matches his pace, tight-lipped.
Melissa Hartwell
A practical answer. Good. You can estimate a collapse window better than most.
They clear the corridor bend and the ship’s hold opens ahead, lit by dim strips and the faint glow from the sealed cells. The damage outside is still distant here, but not absent.
Melissa Hartwell
For the record, if this station falls, my death buys you nothing. If I live, I can still name who touched the relay.
Sion swings her toward the nearest pod bay and the lock housing flashes green at his approach. Hartwell looks from the pod to him, breathing controlled, waiting.
Melissa Hartwell
So, Officer, do you secure me in there, or do you want the name before the metal closes?
“Sion removes her handcuffs and pushes her into a prison cell and shuts the door behind her. Sion: “I’ve heard enough. I’m taking you in, Hartwell.””
SUCCESS (Good Strength, rolled +2)
Sion works the cuffs free, one wrist at a time, while Hartwell stays still enough to make the motion look almost procedural.
Sion
I’ve heard enough. I’m taking you in, Hartwell.
He drives her forward with a firm shove and she stumbles into the open pod, catching herself on the frame.
The door seal snaps red for a heartbeat, then the lock engages with a hard green click.
Melissa Hartwell
If that door holds, yes. You win this round, Officer.
The station tremor answers from somewhere beyond the hull, but inside the pod bay the prisoner is contained, for the moment.
“Sion takes to the helm and pilots his ship away from the station. As his ship flys into space, his computer screen displays a camera view watching Melissa in her cell and a camera view watching the space station explode.”
SUCCESS (Legendary Agility, rolled -2)