TEXT: 1
  
  MANDATE ARCHIVE
  Archive Collection 
  2011
  by
  Kevin Crawford
  
  3
  © 2011, Sine Nomine Publishing
  ISBN 978-1-936673-21-6
  Written by Kevin Crawford
  Art by Kiss Márton Gyula(Kimagu)
  Table of Contents
  Bannerjee Construction Solutions ..........................................................3
  The BRUXELLES-Class Battlecruiser ..........................................................10
  The Cabals of Hydra Sector ....................................................................16
  The Dust ....................................................................................................22
  The Judicators ...........................................................................................28
  Martial Arts ..............................................................................................34
  The Qotah ..................................................................................................39
  The Red Sangha Mercenary Corps ..........................................................45
  
  4
  Space Stations on the Frontier
  A frontier world is nothing without a space station of its own. It is a 
  trifl ing outpost at best, a half-barbarous colony world that can ser-
  vice only atmosphere-capable tramp merchants and shuttlecraft. It 
  can do nothing for the ungainly bulks of mobile asteroid smelters or 
  naval warships. Some starfaring worlds are forced by circumstances 
  or necessity to make do with a strictly planetary starport, but most 
  worlds count it a point of pride that they should have a constant 
  presence in the void above their world.
  Th ere are two major uses for an orbital station in post-Silence human 
  space. In the fi rst, an armed station can provide military protection 
  for an entire planetary hemisphere, fending off  pirates and forcing 
  invaders to fi ght the station before they have the leisure to bombard 
  surface structures. Th e space and power available for vast banks 
  of targeting computers and ECCM countermeasures allow most 
  stations to far out-range hostile ships, forcing them to engage and 
  destroy the station before dealing with any surface defenses. For the 
  many worlds that are wealthy and advanced enough to aff ord some 
  sort of space defense but too poor to invest in a holistic planetary 
  defense grid, a pair of well-armed space stations is the best they can 
  do to protect themselves from raiders or worse.
  Th e second major use is as a depot for ships unable to enter the 
  planet’s atmosphere. Mobile asteroid mining ships often fi t this 
  bill, and many worlds would be rendered vastly poorer without the 
  steady infl ux of orbital mining products. Many worlds lack one or 
  more vital metals or minerals that can only be found in space, and 
  individual mining ships can’t hope to effi  ciently lift down the thou-
  sands of tons of processed materials required by planetary industry. 
  By building a specialized space station, the ships can unload their 
  cargo there and let the station’s dedicated lifters supply the planetary 
  starport.
  Even in the golden days of the Second Wave, many newly-colonized 
  worlds struggled to build and maintain space stations. Without a 
  jump gate to make transport cheap and quick, these colonists had 
  to carry all their necessary supplies on the handful of ships that 
  brought them to their new home. Th ey did not have the luxury of 
  packing along a thousand and one components for a space station 
  when every spare kilogram of cargo space was needed for life-saving 
  colonization supplies. Th ose pretech manufacturing devices that 
  they did bring along were necessarily limited by the lack of a local 
  infrastructure to support them, and in any case, they could hardly 
  manufacture parts without the raw materials to feed them.
  Bannerjee Construction Solutions
  In 2305, Vikram Bannerjee was a minor research engineer work-
  ing for Ralston-Huang Synergies, one with minimal prospects of 
  advancement and several negative job evaluations. His supervisors 
  admitted his ingenuity, but he could never be bothered to focus on 
  a single system long enough to really understand it. Th e work bored 
  him, and he was always pressing to move on to a fresh system to 
  study.
  Privately, Vikram admitted his supervisors were quite correct about 
  his lack of persistent focus, but he had his own purposes, ones not 
  entirely in alignment with the august gravity of Ralston-Huang 
  Synergies. He accepted a buyout during a period of retrenchment 
  and RHS thought no more of him. His non-compete contract was 
  ironclad, and in any case he’d never come up with any improve-
  ments worth patenting.
  Vikram promptly took his severance pay and bought several 
  antiquated and drive-stripped shuttle bodies, two models of out-
  moded circuit printers, and the skeletonized remains of a depleted 
  colonization ship that was sold for the cost of its metal. Within a 
  month, he was able to demonstrate the virtues of his wide-ranging 
  tech interests, as he disassembled his various purchases only to use 
  their bits and pieces to build something better by far.
  Vikram had a genius for salvage. From the scattered components of 
  half a hundred diff erent worn-out machines and depleted systems 
  he could build sturdy, effi  cient station elements at half the price of 
  comparable off -the-shelf parts. Better yet, he could use the dross 
  and detritus of a colonial expedition to bootstrap the process, 
  converting worn-out engines and empty hulls into the kernel of a 
  useful station. Th ese bare-bones skeletons were fragile until asteroid 
  miners could bring in the raw materials for further development, 
  but they held the key to building space stations where no colonist 
  had imagined it possible. Bannerjee Construction Solutions was 
  born.
  Th e Lamplighter Foundation
  While Vikram’s proof-of-concept was intriguing, RHS promptly 
  threatened him with a torrent of legal action if he didn’t bring his 
  precious schematics back to them at a price the proud engineer 
  found insulting. Th e threat of legal action scared off  Vikram’s 
  venture capital, and for a time it looked as it he would be forced to 
  swallow his pride if he ever wished to see his plans reach the market.
  His angel investor came in the form of the Lamplighter Foundation, 
  a splinter group spun off  from the Preceptors of the Great Archive. 
  While the Preceptors wished to spread knowledge and practical 
  skills throughout human space for the sake of mutual connection 
  and cohesion, the Lamplighters had a more immediate goal. Many 
  among them were convinced that the Terran Mandate was doomed 
  to collapse in blood and chaos, and they were determined to nur-
  ture the seeds of a new age on worlds safe from the coming storm. 
  To do that they needed colonies cast far from the core worlds, and 
  Vikram’s new plans promised to make that possible for worlds that 
  otherwise would be prohibitively diffi  cult to colonize.
  RSH made good on its legal threats, but the Lamplighters had law-
  yers and money enough to hold them off  while Vikram brought the 
   BANNERJEE CONSTRUCTION SOLUTIONS
  ORBITAL STATIONS FOR THE STARS WITHOUT NUMBER RPG
  
  5
  fi rst of his schematic packs to market, tailored to the most common 
  series of colonization seedships then in use. For a reasonable invest-
  ment in the schematics, a colonial expedition could have a working 
  geosynchronous space station within six months of landing. It was a 
  roaring hit, and RHS gave up their legal eff orts as the new infl ux of 
  money allowed Vikram and the Lamplighters to buy the Mandate 
  politicians they needed to quash RHS’s suit.
  Th e Poisoned Plans
  While the plans were a great success, they also faced substantial 
  danger of copyright infringement. Some earnest souls felt it only 
  fair to spread the knowledge around, and since the fundamental 
  good that Vikram was selling was the knowledge of how best to 
  disassemble what men and women already owned, it soon proved 
  diffi  cult to keep a lid on the information. It helped that Vikram 
  made so many diff erent versions of the schematics for so many dif-
  ferent models of seedship and colonization gear, but even this could 
  only go so far.
  Vikram was a proud man, and he was also a jealous one. It infuri-
  ated him that his eff orts and those of his hired researchers were 
  being stolen out from under his nose, worlds forging space stations 
  without paying a centicred toward the man who had made it all 
  possible. In a fury of practical spite, he began inserting subtle errors 
  into the schematics he sold- delicate, near-imperceptible fl aws in 
  design and construction that could not be easily remedied with-
  out wrecking the other systems involved. Th ese “poisoned plans” 
  required a Bannerjee-approved system technician to oversee the 
  construction of the station, or else they would introduce fl aws into 
  the fi nal product that ranged from annoying to potentially lethal.
  Some colonies stubbornly made do with the “clean” plans released 
  for earlier colonization ships, but gradually it became more and 
  more diffi  cult to get the antiquated equipment involved, and even 
  when they could, the collateral cost of using outmoded gear was 
  often worse than the cost of paying Vikram his due. It wasn’t worth 
  saving a few million credits when it required the use of equip-
  ment that produced a ten percent greater chance of total colony 
  failure than that inherent in more modern kit. Others attempted 
  to reverse-engineer existing Bannerjee stations to come up with the 
  solutions, but so many of them had been bodged together out of 
  unique individual collections of parts that the secrets of one were of 
  little use to the builders of another.
  Th e Repositories
  Th e Lamplighters were not amused at this turn of events. Th ey 
  recognized that their fi nancial interests were bound up in Bannerjee 
  Construction Solutions, but they could hardly expect that certifi ed 
  BCS systems techs would be available for hire in the interstellar 
  wasteland they foresaw. Th ey pressured Vikram to include some 
  kind of fail safe, some emergency measure that could detoxify the 
  poisoned plans in case of Mandate-wide disaster.
  Grudgingly, Vikram acquiesced. A complete list of the errors 
  and corrections necessary for rectifying the BCS schematics was 
  compiled under close guard. Th ese Confi dential Construction 
  Protocols were nicknamed “the Rigged Veda” in-house and watched 
  more closely than the jealous engineer’s own husband. It was an 
  almost physical torment to Vikram when he was forced to see to the 
  dispersal of copies among several remote locations on the frontier. 
  Even then, he managed to see to it that only partial elements of the 
  CCP were kept in any one place, enough to build a space station 
  but with only a few of the more exquisite and advanced expressions 
  of Bannerjee’s genius.
  Th ese repositories were carefully guarded by robotic and automated 
  defenses, with some rumors insisting that even braked AIs were 
  involved in overseeing their security. Th ey were to open only on the 
  eff ective dissolution or incapacitation of the Mandate, as reported 
  by an authorized representative of Terra. Given the suddenness of 
  the Scream and the severing of links with the core worlds, it is re-
  markably unlikely that any of these repositories ever received formal 
  word of the Mandate’s collapse, and it might be wondered what 
  kind of proof they would demand should any of them yet be found.
  Th e locations of these repositories have all long since been lost in 
  the chaos of the Scream and the Silence. BCS never publicized them 
  greatly to begin with, and those worlds that already had functioning 
  Bannerjee stations had no reason to go haring off  after the secrets of 
  constructing more. Colonization pressures were somewhat limited 
  in the wake of pan-human disaster.
  Bannerjee Stations Today
  Presently, many frontier worlds have access to Bannerjee schemat-
  ics, almost always of the poisoned variety. Assorted engineers and 
  astrotechnical fi rms make a sideline of selling ostensibly-clean plans, 
  but most of the time this simply means that the schematics they 
  off er have negative side-eff ects small enough to be tolerable. Power 
  ineffi  ciencies and habitat discomforts that would have been intoler-
  able to the humanity of the Second Wave hardly bear mentioning 
  to populations that have survived the Silence.
  Because of the emphasis on salvaging existing tech to build the 
  station core, Bannerjee stations remain enormously popular in the 
  new age after the Silence. Antiquated caches of pretech junk can be 
  turned to useful employ with the right set of schematics, and worlds 
  that could never hope to buy new parts from a richer neighbor can 
  still aspire to raise a station with scrap and salvage. Th e ineffi  ciencies 
  and limitations that made a “poisoned” Bannerjee station intoler-
  able to Second Wave humanity qualify as rock-solid reliability by 
  the standards of the present.
  Despite this, rumors persist of the BCC repositories and the marvels 
  to be found within the Rigged Veda. Th ose remaining Bannerjee 
  stations that were constructed by approved technicians are some 
  of the best-functioning stations remaining on the frontier, and the 
  idea that any and all future stations might be built to these speci-
  fi cations is intoxicating to a certain kind of explorer or technician. 
  Every so often some band of adventurers claims to have found the 
  coordinates for a repository, and set forth to plunder it of its secrets. 
  Th ose few that return always report their sad mistake- and yet there 
  always seem to be a few clean schematics on the market that are so 
  much more recent than any of the common run....
  
  6
   Stations in Space Combat
  Th e full details of handling orbital defenses are beyond the scope of 
  this document, but it can be said that a functional, properly-armed 
  space station can protect up to an entire hemisphere of a world. 
  Between gravitic braker guns, beam weapons with augmented tar-
  geting and ECCM, and greater mass for power plants and cooling 
  arrays, an attacking space force needs to take out all the armed space 
  stations over a hemisphere before it can eff ectively bombard.
  Drop pods laden with ground troops are sometimes launched during 
  such engagements, but such orbital assaults are a risky tactic. Th e 
  drop pods are vulnerable to station gunnery, and are cut off  from 
  any real air support until the invading fl eet can batter down the 
  space defenses. Orbital drops are most common against surface-to-
  space gun emplacements or as decapitation strikes against planetary 
  governments.
  Ordinary cargo shuttles have almost no chance of making it to the 
  surface past a hostile station. Th ey are vulnerable to station fi re for 
  fi ve rounds while landing, at AC 9, with no armor and 2 hit points.  
  Almost any hit will destroy them utterly. Drop pods are optimized 
  for opposed landings and are vulnerable for only one round, with 
  AC 4, no eff ective armor, and 5 hit points.
  Ships that evade a station’s sensors can make it to and from the sur-
  face without engaging the station. Th is requires all the usual stealth 
  measures given in the core rule book, and it also requires that the 
  ship avoid all weapons discharges. Th e energy signatures are a dead 
  giveaway to an observer, and a single volley from an atmosphere-
  capable ship’s weaponry is rarely enough to make any real diff erence 
  to a world’s defenses.
  Most space stations function exactly as any other ship in combat. 
  Th ey have the same sort of statistics and the same rules for weaponry 
  and defenses. Stations are generally treated as cruisers for purposes 
  of maximum weapon and fi tting sizes and costs, and have no Speed 
  at all. While they can move from one hemisphere to the other by 
  means of maneuver jets and 24 hours of time, they are far too slow 
  to chase fl eeing ships, perform maneuvers, or avoid engagements.
  Because stations have no spike drives, they are unable to use spike 
  phasing. Th ey always exist and shoot in phase 0, meaning that at-
  tackers will never have to worry about their shots going awry and 
  will always be able to hamper the station’s gunnery by remaining in 
  the highest spike phase available to their engines. For this reason, 
  most space stations prefer to mount weaponry with the phasing 
  property.
  Stations always get one free round of attacks on an incoming hostile 
  force, representing the station’s superior range. Th ey may also target 
  fl eeing ships normally for one round after the ship successfully fl ees, 
  for much the same reason. 
  Stations reduced to 0 hit points do not explode. Instead, they 
  become incapacitated as if they had succeeded in a Tech/Astronau-
  tics roll to avoid detonation.
   BANNERJEE STATION  HULLS
  Model
  Cost
  Armor
  HP
  Crew Min/Max
  AC
  Power
  Free Mass
  Hardpoints
  Class
  Model Twelve
  5m
  5
  120
  20/200
  9
  50
  40
  10
  Cruiser
  Peerless
  7.5m
  10
  100
  30/1000
  9
  60
  100
  10
  Cruiser
  Shantadurga
  15m
  15
  80
  50/300
  7
  85
  50
  18
  Cruiser
  Model Twelve stations were the most common BCS constructions 
  on the far frontier. Advanced armor composites were in short 
  supply on new colony worlds, so Bannerjee experimented with 
  design schematics that buff ered the Model Twelve in thick layers 
  of asteroid-mined ablative materials. Th e resulting stations were 
  “softer” than a dedicated military orbital, but could take enormous 
  punishment before losing hull integrity. Maximum station occu-
  pancy was limited, but remote frontier worlds rarely had need to 
  accommodate more than a relative handful of spacers at any one 
  time.
  Peerless stations were a refi nement produced for the use of more 
  successful colonies, ones that managed to draw signifi cant trade to 
  their system. Much of the space fi lled by ablative material in the 
  Model Twelve was given over to further cargo room, and the hab 
  deck was greatly expanded. More advanced armor composites were  
  also specifi ed for the hull cladding. Some uninhabitable worlds that 
  bore valuable resources had “colonies” consisting of a single Peerless 
  station orbiting the planet.
  Shantadurga stations were a comparatively late development for 
  a market that insisted on a Bannerjee military orbital. While not 
  as sophisticated or effi  cient as a station designed by a specialized 
  miltech fi rm, the Shantadurga was substantially cheaper and could 
  be built from the same mix of salvage and scrap that other Banner-
  jee station models used. Crew space was increased over the Model 
  Twelve in order to accommodate combat losses and damage con-
  trol, and yet more internal compartments were baffl  ed with armor 
  fi ll. Th e scrap tech gave the Shantadurga a very tough and resilient 
  hull, but a bolt powerful enough to overcome the armor found a 
  comparatively fragile station behind it. Still, it generally requires at 
  least a cruiser-class warship to threaten a Shantadurga, and such a 
  ship is far more than many modern navies can fi eld.
  Space Station Design and Fittings
  Space stations can be fi tted with all the usual equipment and 
  weaponry that might be found on a cruiser-class ship. Most sta-
  tions dedicate a large amount of their tonnage to orbital lifter 
  systems or cargo space, but almost all stations have at least one 
  cruiser-class weapon for defense.
  Space stations cannot make use of augmented plating, grav eddy 
  displacers, or foxer drones, however, as these defenses are either 
  useless to the station or rely on a ship’s movement to function.
  
  7
   STARSHIP  WEAPONS
  Weapon
  Cost
  Damage
  Power
  Free Mass
  Hardpoints
  Min.Class
  TL
  Special
  Braker Gun Battery
  1m
  Special
  20
  10
  3
  Cruiser
  4
  Jitter Beam Projector
  1m
  3d8
  15
  5
  3
  Cruiser
  4
  AP 15, Phase 3
  Photonic Siege Cannon
  3m
  6d10
  40
  20
  10
  Cruiser
  4
  AP 20, Special
  Sunshine Field
  2m
  2d6
  15
  10
  2
  Cruiser
  4
  AP 10, Cloud, Phase 2
  Devourer Launcher
  8m/50k
  Special
  10
  5
  3
  Cruiser
  5
  AP 10, Ammo 5
  While some of these weapons are impractical for anything short of 
  a station or dedicated cruiser, any of them can be mounted on any 
  hull capable of supporting their power and mass requirements.
  Braker Gun Batteries employ advanced gravitic principles and vast 
  capacitor banks to redirect kinetic energy at a distance. While too 
  clumsy to work against short-ranged attacks such as ship-to-ship 
  munitions, the guns are extremely eff ective at repelling orbital 
  projectile bombardments. Any projectile large enough to pose a 
  signifi cant danger to a surface installation can be targeted and redi-
  rected outward into space. Th e battery can handle a large number of 
  incoming projectiles at once, and so any station with an operating 
  braker gun battery can protect a hemisphere against any volley short 
  of a that launched by a major bombardment fl eet. Braker guns 
  function automatically against bombardment projectiles so long as 
  they are functional and manned.
  Jitter Beam Projectors draw on large capacitors to simulate some 
  of the eff ect of a spike drive enhanced metamass beam, pulsing the 
  beams through high-phase oscillations. While unable to reach a 
  very high spike phase, many stations favor them to help counteract 
  the eff ects of an enemy ship’s spike phasing. 
  Photonic Siege Cannons are special sublight weapons designed 
  for cracking military orbitals. Th e guns are far too clumsy to hit a 
  mobile spaceship, but they can wreak havoc equivalent to a capital 
  ship’s main battery on a hapless orbital. Th e massive power draw 
  of these weapons tends to require a dedicated siege ship design to 
  support them, and then a fl eet of support vessels to keep it alive 
  long enough to crack an enemy station. Few stellar nations have the 
  need or wealth to build such task forces.
  Sunshine Fields rely on a mesh of short-range MES lasers embed-
  ded around a station’s hull. While the lasers are too weak and 
  short-ranged to aff ect larger ships, the “sunshine” can prove lethal 
  to attacking fi ghters or boarding shuttles.
  Devourer Launchers are rare pretech weaponry designed to project 
  a spray of ferrophagic nanite projectiles at a target. On a hit, the 
  projectiles immediately begin digging in and eating the hull of 
  the targeted ship. For each successful hit, the target takes 1d10+5 
  damage  at the beginning of each round until the ship mounting the 
  launcher is destroyed or the ships disengage. Armor and AP apply 
  to this damage as normal. For example, after 3 successful hits, the 
  target ship takes 3d10+15 damage at the start of each turn until the 
  launching ship is blown apart, withdraws, or is evaded.
   STARSHIP  FITTINGS
  Fitting
  Cost
  Power
  Free Mass
  Min. Class
  TL
  Function
  Fleet Targeting Array
  40k*
  6#
  4#
  Cruiser
  4
  Gives +2 to hit to all nearby friendly ships
  Orbital Lifters
  300k
  10
  5
  Cruiser
  4
  Moves up to 20,000 tons/day to and from the surface
  Sensor Shadowing
  25k*
  2#
  1#
  Frigate
  4
  Conceals a ship from stationary sensor arrays
  # Multiply requirements by 2 for frigates, 3 for cruisers, and 4 for capital ships
  * Multiply cost by 10  for frigates, 25 for cruisers, and 100 for capital ships
  Fleet Targeting Arrays can be mounted on any hull capable of sup-
  porting them. Orbital Lifters, however, require a fi xed space station 
  in order to operate smoothly, and cannot be mounted on ships. 
  Sensor Shadowing requires a spike drive to assist it and cannot be 
  mounted on a space station.
  Fleet Targeting Arrays rely on massive banks of ballistic comput-
  ers to overcome enemy ECCM. A ship with a fl eet targeting array 
  grants itself and all friendly ships in the combat a bonus of +2 on 
  hit rolls. Th is bonus does not stack with multiple targeting arrays.
  Orbital Lifters are a complex array of grav barges, orbital beanstalks, 
  and rail lifters. While they require a geostationary orbit over the 
  receiving starport, they can shuttle up to 15,000 metric tons per 
  day to and from the station. A surface to orbit transit requires only 
  fi fteen minutes on an orbital lifter.
  Sensor Shadowing relies on the creation of metamass bodies at 
  strategic locations around the energy profi le of a starship. Th ese 
  bodies act as an eff ective absorption screen for most conventional 
  scan frequencies. Manipulating them is slow, however, and so the 
  ship must have a clear idea of the exact location of the sensor array 
  they are attempting to elude. In eff ect, this means that the shadow-
  ing only assists against space stations and other fi xed scan sites, and 
  not against starship scans. Sensor shadowing apply a -5 penalty to 
  all checks to detect or scan the ship. Sensor shadowing strains a 
  ship’s own sensor array, however, and applies a -5 penalty to all hit 
  rolls and sensor checks while in eff ect and for 12 hours after it is 
  deactivated. Sensor shadowing does not stack with emissions damp-
  ers or other stealth measures, but emissions dampers might aff ect 
  ships that are unhindered by the shadowing.
  
  8
   MODEL TWELVE-CLASS SPACE STATION
  Power: 50/8 free
  Mass:
  40/1 free
  Cost: 8,420,000
  Hit Points: 120
  Crew: 20/200
  Speed:
  -
  Armor:
  5
  AC:
  9
  Weaponry Jitter Beam Projector (+3 to hit/3d8+1, AP 15, Phase 3), Plasma Beam (+3 to hit/3d6+1, AP 10)
  Defenses Hardened Polyceramic Overlay
  Fittings Armory, Braker Gun Array, Lifeboats, Cargo Lighter, Ship’s Locker, Workshops, 3000 tons of cargo space
  Operating Cost 421,000 yearly maintenance, 1,090,000 yearly for a crew of 30 spacers maintained year-round
  Th is particular station load out represents a typical Model Twelve over a relatively poor frontier world. It gets occasional business from 
  asteroid mining craft, but the volume of cargo is too small to justify an orbital lifter system. Th e braker gun array and energy weaponry 
  serve to protect the population centers below from orbital bombardment, as the world isn’t wealthy enough to aff ord a holistic planetary 
  defense grid or a dedicated military orbital.
  PEERLESS-CLASS SPACE STATION
  Power: 60/5 free
  Mass:
  100/2 free
  Cost: 11,445,000
  Hit Points: 100
  Crew: 30/1000
  Speed:
  -
  Armor:
  10
  AC:
  9
  Weaponry Jitter Beam Projector (+3 to hit/3d8+1, AP 15, Phase 3), Plasma Beam (+3 to hit/3d6+1, AP 10)
  Defenses Hardened Polyceramic Overlay
  Fittings Armory, Braker Gun Array, Hydroponic Production, Lifeboats, Orbital Lifters, Ship’s Locker, Workshops, 13000 tons 
  of cargo space
  Operating Cost 572,250 yearly maintenance, 1,460,000 yearly for a crew of 40 spacers maintained year-round
  A bustling interstellar trade hub might be served by this class of orbital, with cargo space and lifters suffi  cient to empty the bellies of the 
  most voracious asteroid miner or merchant freighter. Most such stations still retain a basic level of armament as an emergency fallback, 
  even though a dedicated military orbital or system defense fl eet is usually available to worlds wealthy enough to need a Peerless-class 
  station. Most Peerless stations also retain hydroponic atmosphere and farming systems to serve the hundreds of transients and traders that 
  often take up residence aboard the station.
  SHANTADURGA-CLASS SPACE STATION
  Power: 85/2 free
  Mass:
  50/0 free
  Cost: 21,520,000
  Hit Points: 80
  Crew: 50/300
  Speed:
  -
  Armor:
  15
  AC:
  7
  Weaponry Spike Inversion Projector x3 (+4 to hit/3d8+1, AP 15, Phase 2), Gravcannon (+4 to hit/4d6+1, AP 20), Smart Cloud 
  (+4 to hit/3d10+1, Cloud, Clumsy)
  Defenses Hardened Polyceramic Overlay
  Fittings Armory, Braker Gun Array, Cargo Lifter, Drop Pod, Hydroponic Production, Extended Medbay, Lifeboats, Ship’s 
  Locker, Survey Sensor Array, Workshops, 1000 tons of cargo space
  Operating Cost 1,076,000 yearly maintenance, 3,650,000 yearly for 200 trained military spacers maintained year-round. Military 
  personnel have lower day wage costs, as much of their expense falls under diff erent budget headings.
  Th is Shantadurga station plan is characteristic of a wealthy world’s fi rst-line orbital defenses. Many such worlds are rich enough to aff ord 
  a pair of Shantadurga-class orbitals to stand watch while additional planetary defenses are built groundside. Th ose planets that expect 
  serious and lasting confl ict often prefer more purpose-build military orbitals, but a pair of these stations is more than enough to scare off  
  anything but a specially-equipped interstellar invasion fl eet. Th is particular plan includes fi ttings for a drop pod to dispatch troops to any 
  location in the hemisphere within 15 minutes, an extended medbay to deal with battle casualties, and a survey sensor array to increase 
  the station’s odds to detect infi ltration forces early. It also replaces the bulky, cheap jitter beam projectors with spike inversion models.
  TREBUCHET-CLASS SIEGE CRUISER
  Power: 50/4 free
  Mass:
  30/0 free
  Cost: 15,225,000
  Hit Points: 60
  Crew: 50/400
  Speed: 0
  Armor:
  15
  AC:
  4
  Weaponry Photonic Siege Cannon (+4 to hit/6d10+1, AP 20, Special)
  Defenses Augmented Plating
  Fittings Spike Drive-2, Advanced Navigation Computer, Armory, Cargo Lighter, Fuel Bunkers, Lifeboats, Ship’s Locker
  Operating 
  Cost
  761,250 yearly maintenance, 3,650,000 yearly for 200 trained military spacers maintained year-round. Military person-
  nel have lower day wage costs, as much of their expense falls under diff erent budget headings.
  Siege cruisers are a rare breed of interstellar warship designed to take out enemy orbitals as a prelude to a full-dress planetary assault. 
  While brutally eff ective against space stations, the Trebuchet class is helpless against smaller foes, and usually requires a full task force’s 
  support in order to avoid being torn to pieces by system defense fl eets. Th ese ships are even dependent upon the cargo lighters of 
  logistical support craft. Th ere are few worlds with both the wealth and the enemies necessary to justify siege cruisers- or their even more 
  drastically specialized capital-class brethren.
  
  9
   Bannerjee Station Flaws
  Stations designed from BCS plans almost always have at least one 
  fl aw embedded in the resulting space station. Th e poisoned plans 
  were crafted with the same restless brilliance as the rest of Banner-
  jee’s off erings, and it is virtually impossible to permanently correct 
  these problems without creating a cascade of additional, even worse 
  engineering crises. Most post-Silence builders are willing to accept 
  this drawback in exchange for the cheapness and durability of a 
  Bannerjee station.
  On completion of a station, its chief architect must roll a Tech/
  Astronautics skill check at diffi  culty 10. On a success, he or she may 
  pick one of the following fl aws. Otherwise, the fl aw of a newly-
  constructed Bannerjee station is determined randomly.
  Each station fl aw comes with a list of additional complications and 
  situations that might arise from that fl aw. When designing adven-
  tures for a world with a Bannerjee station, you might choose to add 
  these complications to the list of potential adventure elements.
  STATION FLAWS
  Roll
  Flaw
  1
  Cranky Atmosphere
  2
  Temperamental Guns
  3
  Mooring Lockup
  4
  Unreliable Power
  5
  Radiation Leak
  6
  Sensor Defect
  Cranky Atmosphere
  Th e atmosphere fi lters are perpetually breaking down, requiring 
  constant care by at least one tech for every two people breathing on 
  the station. Hydroponic bays are not aff ected by this fl aw.
  Complications: One of the atmo techs is incompetent, and his 
  bungling results in the toxic contamination of the station deck the 
  PCs are on. Terrorists sabotage the station’s vacc suit locker before 
  crippling the defective atmo scrubbers. Th e fi lters are pulling in 
  traces of a toxic world’s upper atmosphere without lighting any of 
  the warning sensors.
  Temperamental Guns
  Before each round of combat, roll 1d6. On a 1, the station cannot 
  fi re any system reliant on a hardpoint.
  Complications: Th e gunnery board goes haywire, opening fi re on 
  any ship that attempts to dock or undock. Political schemers plot to 
  wire the guns to bombard a rival planetside. A gunnery test causes a 
  dramatic capacitor blowout when the guns fail to discharge.
  Mooring Lockup
  Each day, roll 1d10. On a 1, the station’s mooring system is frozen, 
  and it refuses to let go of any docked ships for 24 hours. Cutting 
  a ship loose will do 1d10 damage to the station, bypassing armor.
  Complications: Th e lockdown extends to the station’s internal 
  hatches, sealing people inside the compartments unless they can cut 
  their way out or hack the lockdown override. Th e lockdown freezes 
  airlocks and egress ports in an open position. Power umbilicals start 
  to fry the systems of a locked ship.
  Unreliable Power
  Each week, roll 1d10. On a 1, sometime within the next 7 days, 
  the fusion plants will fail for thirty minutes- usually the fi rst time 
  a signifi cant draw is put on them. Most stations will be able to 
  keep lights, air, radio, and gravity on backup power, but no other 
  operations are possible.
  Complications: Th e power fails during a vital maintenance func-
  tion and must be restored before catastrophic damage results. Th e 
  power fails during a maneuver meant to move the station out of 
  a severe radiation wave or asteroid strike.  Th e power threatens to 
  fail during combat, and the PCs must smash or blow up several 
  locked-on systems aboard the station before their power drain kills 
  the guns and dooms the station to destruction.
  Radiation Leak
  Each week, roll 1d10. On a 1, one level or area of the station is 
  suddenly subjected to a brief draft of radioactive gases leaked from 
  the ventilation system. All not in vacc suits must make a Radiation 
  save as per the core rules or lose 1 point of Constitution within fi ve 
  minutes.
  Complications: Th e radiation is limited and fails to trip the alarms, 
  slowly and subtly poisoning occupants at the rate of one Radiation 
  save per day until discovered and repaired. Th e radiation destabi-
  lizes gengineered plants or alien beasts aboard the ship, resulting 
  in dangerous life forms. Th e station’s crew are altered humans who 
  actually require the radiation to maintain health.
  Sensor Defect
  Each day, roll 1d6. On a 1, the station is unable to detect any ship 
  that is not voluntarily broadcasting its navigation signal. Further-
  more, a ship in the outer rim region of a system can recognize 
  this blindness by piecing together interference patterns, provided 
  someone aboard has at least Computer-1 skill and takes a half-hour 
  to check the signals.
  Complications: Pirates have a traitor aboard who induces this fl aw 
  at a pre-arranged time to allow for a close approach and boarding 
  attempt. Th e station starts to report a half-dozen phantom readings 
  during space combat. Th e sensors quirk to an odd scan spectrum, 
  picking up a signal from an ancient alien derelict beyond the sys-
  tem’s outer rim.
  
  10
  1D10
   STATION ADVENTURE  SEEDS
  1
  A Friend has a position of importance aboard the station, but an Enemy seeks to cause a Complication in order to justify a 
  demotion.
  2
  Smugglers are moving a Th ing through the station, when a Complication confuses their plans and drops the Th ing’s hidden 
  location right in the PCs’ laps. Th ey must get it before an Enemy can fi nd and retrieve it.
  3
  Hidden in a secret compartment in a Th ing is a map to the location of a lost Bannerjee Repository. Th e Th ing is currently 
  being kept aboard the station until an Enemy unaware of the secret compartment can come collect it.
  4
  A Friend claims to have a clean Bannerjee schematic perfectly suited for creating a precious and useful piece of pretech 
  hardware, and his business depends on building it quickly. Th e precise model of obsolete gear needed to make it is in the 
  hands of an Enemy, however, and no other samples of that antiquated tech can be found nearby.
  5
  Th e station was built by a huckstering company that claimed to use clean schematics. In fact, they’d simply failed to realize 
  that the fl aw in the schematic was very subtle and unusually vicious, and involved the secret mutation of hydroponic plant 
  life into an invasive, sinister form of life bent on killing everyone aboard.
  6
  An alien or splinter-culture warship turns up in a boiling rage. It appears that one of the pieces of scrap used to build the 
  station was actually a precious religious or historical artifact of theirs, and they want it back. However, removing it threatens 
  to bring down the entire station.
  7
  A group of revolutionaries seeks to seize control of the station and bombard a Place at the very height of a solemn and sacred 
  public celebration there.
  8
  Scrappers used elements of poorly-understood alien technology in creating the station. Th at technology was actually the hous-
  ing for a damaged AI unit, which has just awoken and is not amused at its current new “body”. It seeks to kill its inhabitants 
  unless somehow placated.
  9
  Th e PCs are commissioned by a Friend to retrieve a vital part from a Place planet-side in order to prevent a severe station 
  meltdown. A reactionary Enemy seeks to stop them, and when they get back, a Complication strikes just as they attempt to 
  enact the repair.
  10
  An Enemy is in league with a group of pirates, and has arranged for them to strike just as a precious Th ing is being held aboard 
  the station. In the confusion, a Friend is taken hostage.
  Space Station Terms
  Above: Opposite the current gravity.
  Aft: Opposite the direction the station is orbiting.
  Below: In the direction of the current gravitic pull.
  Bulkhead: An internal wall within the station.
  Compartment: A “room” aboard a ship or station.
  Deck: Both a level aboard the station and the fl oor of that level.
  Fore: In the direction the station is orbiting.
  Port: When facing fore, the left-hand direction.
  Hatch: A door aboard a ship or station.
  Inboard: Toward the center of the station.
  Outboard: Toward the exterior of the station.
  Starboard: When facing fore, the right-hand direction.
  Space Station Layout
  Most Bannerjee stations are built with thee habitable decks in an 
  oval-section cylinder. Highdeck is the uppermost and usually con-
  tains the fusion plant, backup bridge, and living quarters. Middeck 
  contains offi  ces, businesses, and the maintenance core. Lowdeck 
  contains heavy industrial areas, the main bridge, and docking bays 
  and umbilicals for visiting ships. Beneath lowdeck is a layer of 
  artifi cial gravity generators, maneuver jets, and other fi ttings that 
  are only accessible through service hatches.
  For full maps of a Model Twelve station, consult the adventure Hard 
  Light by Sine Nomine Publishing, available at DriveTh ruRPG.
  Want More?
  Want a fully-detailed Bannerjee Model Twelve space 
  station for your own use, complete with personnel 
  breakdowns, keyed maps, and a description of impor-
  tant internal features? Want an example of how to use 
  a station like that as both a base of operations and 
  a simmering steel pressure cooker of greed, betrayal, 
  and old crimes come home to roost?
  Pick up Hard Light, an adventure setting for Stars 
  Without Number characters of levels 1-3. In addition 
  to the details of Brightside Station and its perilous 
  existence in the blazing stellar shadow of a half-molten 
  planetoid, you’ll get details on the enigmatic alien Sky 
  Tombs carved into the cold stone of the outer rim as-
  teroids. In addition to three fully-detailed Sky Tombs, 
  you’ll get a page of mini-geomorphs and several pages 
  of stocking instructions for creating your own ran-
  domized alien mausoleums.
  You can fi nd Hard Light for sale at DriveTh ruRPG, 
  along with the free rulebook for Stars Without Number, 
  the old-school-inspired game of interstellar adventure 
  in the wake of galactic collapse. 
  
  11
  Th e only thing you cannot do with a bayonet is sit on it.
   
   
   
   
   
  - Tallyrand
  In the decades before the Scream, the Bruxelles class of battlecruiser 
  was a common sight on the borders of the Terran Mandate’s core 
  worlds. Whereas most fl eet cruisers struck a balance between armor, 
  range, and weaponry, the Bruxelles class was intended for extended 
  cruises along the periphery of Mandate space and occasional strikes 
  outward into some unruly sector of the frontier. Much of the ad-
  vanced armor and ECM systems that protected other ships of the 
  line were sacrifi ced for greater speed, endurance, and weight of fi re. 
  Th e Bruxelles was intended as an implement of discipline, a tool to 
  correct those border polities or alien invaders who imagined that 
  the insular Mandate was unable to defend its interests.
  By the time of the Scream, the Bruxelles class was no longer a 
  cutting-edge warship. Its armament, engines, and shielding systems 
  were over a century old, and many of the cruisers had been in active 
  service for almost as long. Still, even their dusty guns could wipe the 
  sky clean of any civilian ships turned raider and smash the defensive 
  orbitals of hostile frontier worlds. A single Bruxelles was amply able 
  to enforce the Mandate’s peace on any stellar polity that lacked 
  military-grade pretech shipyards. Th e fragile battlecruisers wouldn’t 
  last long against a modern Mandate dreadnought, and still less 
  could they withstand the experimental mindships that the forges of 
  Old Terra were fashioning toward the end of the Second Wave, but 
  they were suffi  cient to deal with border rabble.
  Th e Scream caught many of these ships far from port. No one can 
  be certain how many thousands of these battlecruisers were left to 
  die in vain attempts to reach the dead worlds that were their homes, 
  or how many were made into candles of metallic vapor by the blind 
  rage of Terra’s autonomic defense grid. Even those who managed 
  to fi nd shelter on some frontier world soon found their precious 
  ship stripped to her deckplates for the priceless pretech parts she 
  contained. A few polities tried to keep their prizes running long 
  enough to plunder their neighbors, but in the end, virtually all of 
  these ancient guardians were torn to pieces and scavenged for parts 
  that young worlds could not hope to craft.
  Still, every so often, a Bruxelles is found deep in the cold void of a 
  system’s outer rim or hanging silently in orbit around a dead world. 
  Most of these ships are crippled in some way, either wounded in 
  battle or worn down too far to make drillspace under her own 
  power. Her crew is almost always long since silent in the perfect 
  preservation of airless, icy night, and her engines are dead or sleep-
  ing the long sleep of centuries. But with the right parts, the right 
  help, and the right mad ambition, these ships can rise again to cut a 
  red road through the stars.
  Operational Parameters
  Th e external hull of the Bruxelles class occasionally varied from 
  shipyard to shipyard, particularly as the design aged and the Terran 
  Mandate began to fi t military components into salvaged and 
  retrofi tted civilian hulls. Without the omen shields and bleedplate 
  standard to more balanced Mandate warships, the Bruxelles class 
  could aff ord to use the softer-skinned shells of civilian craft, and 
  budgetary constraints increasingly pressed on the later run of bat-
  tlecruisers.
  Th e original Bruxelles was approximately three hundred meters in 
  length, seventy meters in depth, and fi fty meters in width, the shape 
  forming a rounded wedge with blisters along the ventral side for 
  her planetary bombardment armament and shuttle docking bays. 
  Th ree hundred personnel formed her standard complement of 
  crew, though her life support systems were rated for up to sixteen 
  hundred before her atmosphere and consumables started to fail 
  under the strain. Gengineered plant and fungal life was designed to 
  maintain the ship’s complement indefi nitely while under way, with 
  biological atmosphere scrubbers and edible force-grown organics 
  that could be cycled for years before needing an infusion of external 
  biomass. Th e Bruxelles could theoretically stay in space with sixteen 
  hundred humans aboard for up to fi ve years without resupply. In 
  practice, even pretech maintenance technology could not keep a 
  warship fl ying that long under combat conditions without some 
  sort of repair. Th ose captains who pushed their ships to the limit 
  usually found themselves dead in space, alone and helpless in a 
  frontier system unable to provide the necessary parts to revive a 
  crippled warship.
  Th e Bruxelles was intended to be a fi st, and while its armor was 
  weak by pretech military standards its enormous weight of gunnery 
  could make it a threat to any ship of a comparable class. Engaging a 
  Bruxelles was a bad exchange for even the most bloodthirsty frontier 
  raider or alien invader. While it might be possible to cripple the 
  human battlecruiser with suffi  cient fi repower and gunner’s luck, 
  any attacker was very likely to be mortally wounded as well. Most 
  troublemakers found it better to seek softer prey in a diff erent 
  system, assuming the Bruxelles didn’t run them down fi rst.
  Th e Bruxelles was a particular threat to hostile space stations, orbit-
  als, and asteroid bases. Th e Ramrod weapons system it carried was 
  optimized for penetrating the hulls of stationary, drill-incapable 
  targets. Very few frontier worlds had access to the sophisticated 
  omen shields necessary to nullify such a bombardment, and still less 
  did pirates and border raiders. Th e Bruxelles could crack the shell of 
  the toughest renegade orbital, and after the sky had been cleared of 
  defensive stations there was little to stop an orbital bombardment 
  beyond the few surface defenses and braker guns the world could 
  manage to muster. Th ese simple defensive arrays were no match for 
  the grav-shear munitions the Bruxelles carried, massive bombard-
  ment missiles capable of cutting through the defensive screen of 
  braker guns and AA lasers sported by most worlds. A single hit was 
  suffi  cient to erase a city.
   THE  BRUXELLES-CLASS BATTLECRUISER
  AN IRON GHOST OF A DEAD AGE
  
  12
  Th e Culture of the Ship
  Unsurprisingly, the presence of a Bruxelles-class cruiser in a frontier 
  world’s star system was unwelcome to most locals. A few border 
  polities had the strength to keep these Mandate enforcers outside of 
  their claimed space, but most frontier worlds were forced to simply 
  tolerate the presence of the ship and acquiesce to any demands the 
  Mandate might make through it. Mandate rules of engagement 
  theoretically prohibited the planetary bombardment of civilians, 
  but in practice, any border world that dared to present a serious 
  threat to the Mandate could expect to fi nd its population centers 
  reduced to ash and bitter memories.
  Th e offi  cers and ratings of a Bruxelles were often separated from 
  the core worlds of the Mandate for years on end, and the Mandate 
  Navy went to exceptional lengths to select dedicated, loyal men and 
  women for the crew. It was not impossible for such ships to be years 
  away from the nearest naval base or signifi cant fl eet support, and 
  the crew had to be capable of maintaining the Mandate’s interests 
  even when far outside the reach of its mandarins. In many cases, 
  this dedication curdled to a kind of blind chauvinism, a contempt 
  for the savage “colonials” and a casual indiff erence to the lives of 
  frontier dwellers. Fellow crew became precious reminders of the 
  more civilized worlds they had left behind, and the preservation of 
  the ship and her crew became infi nitely more important than the 
  lives of a few hundred thousand half-feral colonists.
  Some such ships became indistinguishable from the pirates they 
  were intended to combat. Th ey levied “Mandate taxes” on the worlds 
  they encountered, skimming the best the planet had to off er to keep 
  the ship in fi ghting trim and fi ll her holds with plunder for their 
  distant masters. Th ey razed military shipyards and fl attened “excess 
  military construction” in order to ensure that the world could not 
  trouble its neighbors or the Mandate, and if such exactions left the 
  planet vulnerable to raiders or aliens, it was a regrettably necessary 
  price to pay for interstellar peace. Th ese ships often made contact 
  with remote Perimeter agencies, taking on their enigmatic spies and 
  operatives to strike at some well-hidden maltech development lab 
  or burgeoning abomination. Th ey scourged the worlds that they 
  passed.
  A few Bruxelles-class ships followed a diff erent path, however, 
  captained by offi  cers with more sympathy to the frontier or crewed 
  by men and women more willing to see the primitive colonials as 
  equals rather than sheep to be sheared. Th ese ships often became 
  the unoffi  cial arbiters of peace in frontier sectors, ensuring peace-
  ful trade and diplomacy among their charges and defending them 
  against outsiders who would seek to prey on them. Some of these 
  ships gradually passed out of the reach of the Mandate navy entirely, 
  reliant on unoffi  cial parts requisitions and friends at headquarters to 
  obtain vital spares and taking on new generations of crews from the 
  local worlds. So long as their sectors remained quiet and a reason-
  able fl ow of taxes came in to the nearest Mandate collection depot 
  the brass were willing to let certain unorthodoxies pass without 
  comment.
   Ship’s Complement
  A Bruxelles could be fl own with as few as fi fty spacers, though only 
  a desperate captain would take her into battle with such a mini-
  mal crew. Th ree hundred spacers fi lled out its complement under 
  ordinary conditions. For further details on the organization, crew, 
  and daily operation of a warship and its departments, a GM may 
  consult the Skyward Steel supplement for naval campaigns.
  Th e ship’s commanding offi  cer was usually an O-6 Captain, and the 
  executive offi  cer was commonly an O-5 Commander. During the 
  waning years of the Second Wave, these ranks sometimes lessened a 
  grade as the Mandate grew stretched for manpower and experienced 
  offi  cers.
  Each department was headed by an O-4 Lieutenant Commander, 
  with an O-3 Lieutenant department executive to help oversee the 
  crew in the department and to season the lieutenant up for their 
  own eventual department command. Th e senior enlisted in each 
  department usually qualifi ed as an E-7 Chief Petty Offi  cer at the 
  least, though on very long cruises it was not unknown for warrant 
  offi  cers to serve in the more technical departments.
  Each department had its own complement of ratings, usually leav-
  ened with a few O-1 Midshipmen getting in their training cruise. 
  Given the very long tours that most Bruxelles-class ships encoun-
  tered, their midshipmen tended to be those unlucky enough to 
  draw the ire of their academy instructors or those reckless enough 
  to crave the excitement of the frontier even if it cost them four or 
  fi ve years of humble rank.
  COMPLEMENTS
  Department
  Crew Minimum/Normal
  Administration
  0/10
  Astrogation
  1/12
  Chaplaincy
  0/1
  Communications
  8/21
  Deck
  21/88
  Engineering
  8/21
  Intelligence
  0/6
  Marine
  0/25
  Medical
  0/15
  Science
  0/6
  Supply
  0/6
  Training
  0/6
  Weapons
  10/60
  Minimum crew totals give the absolute minimum necessary to pilot 
  the ship through a spike drill or fi ght her with all weapons fi ring. 
  Only absolute necessity will force a captain into operating with such 
  a feeble crew, however, as casualties during a hot battle or diffi  cult 
  drill can render his ship utterly unable to drill or defend herself. 
  Even without battle losses, attempting a seven-day drill with a single 
  amphetamine-pumped astrogator is not something conducive to a 
  ship’s good health.
  
  13
   Using Th e Ship
  For a GM, a Bruxelles-class cruiser is largely useful as a macguffi  n. 
  Included here are a number of diff erent groups who might all be 
  eager to get their hands on such a ship.
  Expansionist planetary governments would be ecstatic at the 
  chance to get a cruiser capable of smashing their neighbors’ defense 
  orbitals and bombarding their population centers. Th e braker guns 
  and defensive lasers used in the post-Scream era are no use against 
  the Bruxelles’ grav-shear munitions, so a world with one of these 
  cruisers in their fl eet is an unstoppable threat to any but the most 
  powerful and advanced polities.
  However, the spare parts and replacement munitions for the 
  Bruxelles are probably unavailable to any such expansionist group. 
  Combined with the enormous cost of keeping the cruiser fl ying on 
  postech spares and maintenance, this means that any such would-
  be conqueror must use the ship quickly, before it breaks down or 
  exhausts the world with its maintenance costs. Th e longer it takes 
  for the ship to subdue a foreign world, the bigger the chance that 
  something irreplaceable will break down and render the entire war 
  machine useless as anything but spare parts.
  Governments that intend to use a Bruxelles for conquest also cannot 
  aff ord to let their neighbors realize what’s going on until the ship 
  is ready to attack. While the cruiser can eff ortlessly crush most 
  ships that a post-Scream polity might fi eld, it remains vulnerable 
  to treachery and sabotage. If enemies can get agents into its staging 
  base or worse still, aboard the ship itself, the entire warship can be 
  taken out before it’s had a chance to fi re its fi rst shot.
  Ambitious researchers would all love to get their hands on a 
  Bruxelles, even one incapable of combat. While most of the pretech 
  components of the ship cannot be replicated by postech engineer-
  ing, enough remains to fuel decades worth of examination on most 
  technologically advanced planets. Even the hope of being able 
  to reverse-engineer a device into components that could be built 
  using local resources is enough to set scores of local academies and 
  universities off  on a race to obtain the ship.
  Not all of these researchers are going to be inclined to share. Par-
  ticularly with those institutions controlled by a world’s government, 
  there is going to be a powerful inclination to ensure that no one else 
  gets access to the ship’s technology. Even an ostensible shared re-
  search expedition is going to be colored by schemes to get exclusive 
  access to the juiciest technology.
  Beyond this, what happens if these researchers discovery that they 
  can repair the Bruxelles and get it into fi ghting condition? Not every 
  scientist is going to be willing to lead a pinch-credit existence of 
  wrangling for grants and laboring in obscurity when such a marvel-
  ous tool of social control is placed within their grasp.
  Zealous separatists or religious extremists are also going to be eager 
  to seize a Bruxelles. Th ese groups are liable to have even more dif-
  fi culty keeping the ship running than would a full-fl edged planetary 
  government, but few of them have any interest in foreign conquests. 
  Th ey’re more likely to use the ship as a threat, demanding conces-
  sions from the local government and using the ship’s guns to coerce 
  obedience. Simply keeping the ship in orbit around a world leaves 
  minimal maintenance demands, and what local ruler can aff ord to 
  test the ship’s condition when a single grav-shear munition could 
  wipe out his capital?
  Th ese extremists tend to be vulnerable to infi ltration and sabotage 
  from below. While many such groups have led clandestine existences 
  long enough to have good internal security against ordinary infi ltra-
  tors, they aren’t spacers, and they don’t instinctively understand the 
  thousand and one ways that a warship can be reduced to so much 
  scrap. Properly-trained saboteurs can hope to get close enough to 
  something vital to disable the ship’s weaponry and leave it vulner-
  able to boarding attacks from local naval forces. Of course, such 
  saboteurs must then stay alive long enough for the cavalry to arrive.
  Hostile aliens can also fi nd use for a Bruxelles. Some races still 
  nurse old, bitter grudges against humanity for their centuries of 
  dominance in this section of the galaxy, and others are younger races 
  who see no reason not to push these hairless apes back from stars 
  that ought rightfully to belong to them. What better irony than 
  using one of their own warships to drive them out?
  Very few alien races were as sophisticated as Terran humanity before 
  the Scream, but those without substantial numbers of psychics often 
  weathered the disaster better than mankind. Th ese surviving alien 
  polities can sometimes muster the sheer volume of resources neces-
  sary to get a Bruxelles back into fi ghting trim, making up on volume 
  and excess what they lack in refi ned technology. Such ships are an 
  ungainly mass of accretions and secondary systems crusted over the 
  original hull and are usually much more vulnerable to enemy ships. 
  Still, they have the guns to serve their purpose, and neither orbitals 
  nor planetary settlements can withstand their ancient anger.
  While alien crews are usually impossible to infi ltrate in the same 
  way human extremists might be deceived, their ignorance of human 
  engineering often opens up vulnerabilities in the ship’s systems. A 
  group that manages to lay hands on the refi t plans and modifi cation 
  specs for an alien-restored Bruxelles can often spot fl aws that are 
  susceptible to a boarding attack or a deep-space hull sabotage strike 
  by a team in shielded suits.
  Interstellar pirates, perversely, have less use for a Bruxelles than 
  many other possessors. Using such a ship as a commerce raider is a 
  losing proposition, as there is no hope of seizing enough plunder to 
  actually keep the ship fl ying. Precious few pirate kings have enough 
  wealth and technical expertise to actually keep a pretech warship 
  in fi ghting trim, and trying to hold on to it for long would simply 
  invite the desperate attention of every stellar polity within drill 
  range of the pirate base.
  For some raiders who stumble across such a ship, they have no 
  intention of keeping it fl ying for long. Th ey’ll ride the ship like a 
  suicide boat, slashing apart the local navy and defensive orbitals in a 
  blaze of blind violence before the ship fi nally stutters to a halt or is 
  crippled by a lucky shot. After they’ve torn loose the more valuable 
  salvage inside, they’ll fl ee in their old ships, now with a fresh, help-
  less system to plunder at their leisure. Like all their parasitical kin, 
  they have no interest in building anything better. Th ey are glad to 
  burn down the past for the sake of a little temporary warmth.
  
  14
  Th e Ship’s Interior
  Th e interior of a pristine pretech-maintained Bruxelles is a smooth, 
  elegant space of white passageways with colored and patterned wall 
  striping to indicate departments and other technical information. 
  Compartments are square-cornered and neat, with holographic 
  control panels and smart seating that both conforms to the user and 
  automatically bubbles them in a pressure fi eld that will maintain air 
  and temperature even if exposed to raw vacuum. Additional kinetic 
  and thermal dampers protect against shrapnel and fl ame, subtract-
  ing 1d10 damage from any such incoming peril.
  Life support is distributed throughout the ship in “green lines” of 
  gengineered plant life and fungal colonies that purify and recycle 
  the atmosphere and water used aboard the ship, with solar inputs 
  and waste recycling feeding stocks of edible fungi. While several 
  devices in the ship’s galley exist to turn this putty-like, fl avorless 
  mass into more palatable forms, it can be eaten raw at necessity. If 
  severe atmospheric poisoning or strain kills off  this plant life, new 
  colonies can be cultured from stocks within four to six weeks. In 
  the meantime, the ship will be forced to rely on conventional stores 
  and a backup mechanical system that can sustain no more than four 
  hundred crew at a time.
  Hatches are plasteel irises that clamp shut to deny access to boarders 
  or contain damage. Passing a locked hatch on a pretech ship requires 
  a properly-coded acknowledgement from a Net implant. As no one 
  has been wired with implanted Net technology for approximately 
  six hundred years, modern crew are often forced to leave the hatches 
  unlocked simply to move through the ship. Individual hatches can 
  be locked and unlocked from the bridge, and passing through one 
  without the correct implant code requires either an hour with a laser 
  cutter or a multitool, one round and a successful Int/Security test at 
  diffi  culty 9. Failed checks can be re-attempted after fi fteen minutes 
  of further eff ort, but checks failed by more than 2 points will light 
  a warning on the bridge.
  Much of a Bruxelles’ command system is reliant on Net implants. A 
  fully-operational ship allows its Net-wired captain an almost living 
  awareness of everything going on within the hull, and allows him or 
  her to perceive any point inside or on the surface of the ship with 
  no more than a moment’s focus. Individual crewmembers share 
  this awareness in the zones of their own responsibility. Engineers 
  physically feel the rightness of their fusion plants, and astrogators 
  can sense the heat and strain of their spike drive components. Th e 
  holocontrols and duty stations are simply backup tools in case of 
  systems failure due to battle damage or mischance.
  Of course, since Net implants are now impossible to acquire, 
  modern possessors of the ship are forced to make do with these 
  backup controls. Internal awareness and security tends to be ex-
  tremely patchy as a consequence, and intruders who keep to the 
  machine spaces of the ship or stow away in little-used nooks might 
  well escape the notice of even an attentive and professional crew.
  Modern owners are also often forced to make repairs with postech 
  components and equipment, often marring the elegant simplicity 
  of the passageways and compartments with bulky support gear 
  or ungainly, ozone-crackling patches. Th ese obstacles can crop up 
  almost anywhere in the ship as some vital coupling must be bodged 
  together or some ancient pretech equipment reinforced and coaxed 
  back to half-adequate life.
  In most cases, the interior layout of the ship won’t be vital to a GM’s 
  adventure. Setpiece engine rooms, bridges, living quarters, or other 
  important areas can simply be sketched out as the adventure is likely 
  to require, keeping in mind the ship dimensions of 300m x 70m 
  x 50m and about fi ve decks running the length of most Bruxelles 
  hulls.
   Shipboard Glossary
  Aft - To the rear of the ship.
  Bulkhead - Any vertical wall or divider within the ship.
  Compartment - A space within the hull, usually dedicated to a 
  particular purpose. Aside from a few traditional names, such as 
  “engine room” or “wardroom”, ships have compartments, they do 
  not have rooms.
  Deck - Th e fl oor, or more generally, any horizontal working 
  surface.
  Dorsal - Th e top side of the ship, as determined when it is in 
  fl ight.
  Hatch - A door or hatch that can be pressure-sealed. On a war-
  ship such as the Bruxelles, all doors are hatches.
  Fore - Toward the front of the ship.
  Ladder - Whether stairs, zero-gee climbing rings, or an actual 
  ladder, such muscle-powered means of changing decks are all 
  called “ladders”.
  Passageway - A passage between compartments. Ships don’t have 
  corridors, they have passageways.
  Port - Toward the left side of the ship, if facing fore.
  Starboard - Toward the right side of the ship, if facing fore.
  Ventral - Th e bottom side of the ship when it is underway.
  
  15
  BRUXELLES-CLASS CRUISER
  Power: 120/13 free
  Mass:
  65/0 free
  Cost: Priceless
  Hit Points: 60
  Crew: 50/1,600
  Speed:
  3
  Armor:
  20
  AC:
  4
  Weaponry Implosion Field Projector (+4 to hit/4d20+2, AP 25, Phase 2), “Ramrod” Warp-line Gun (+4 to hit/2d20+42, AP 25), 
  “Antaeus” Siege Missiles (Special)
  Defenses Hardened Polyceramic Overlay
  Fittings Spike Drive-4, Armory, Lifeboats, Cargo Lighter, Ship’s Locker, Workshops, Hydroponic Production, Fuel Bunkers, 
  Fuel Scoops, Extended Life Support x3, magazines for 15 Antaeus rounds and 600 tons of cargo space.
  Operating Cost 65,000,000 credits a year to feed the ship the enormous amounts of postech maintenance necessary to keep it fl ying. 
  Worlds without signifi cant shipyards and experience in astronautics may have to spend even more.
  Th ese statistics represent a perfectly functional pretech warship, with the original parts and eff ective maintenance. Very few Bruxelles will 
  be found in such a state. Even leaving a ship to fl oat untouched in the void of the outer rim for six hundred years can result in a craft 
  unable to spin up its spike drives or fi re its weaponry without extensive maintenance work. Letting a battle-scarred or travel-worn ship 
  rot in the dark will result in even less cooperative behavior.
  STARSHIP  WEAPONS
  Weapon
  Cost
  Damage
  Power
  Free Mass
  Hardpoints
  Min.Class
  TL
  Special
  “Antaeus” Siege Missiles
  *
  Special
  15
  5
  3
  Cruiser
  5
  Ammo 5
  Implosion Field Projector
  *
  3d20/Special
  15
  10
  3
  Cruiser
  5
  AP 25, Phase 2
  “Ramrod” Warp-line Gun
  *
  2d20+40
  55
  10
  3
  Cruiser
  5
  AP 25
  * Th ese weapons are priceless. Anyone who fi nds a functional weapon system or Antaeus ammunition can expect the nearest 
  planetary government to stop at nothing to confi scate it for their own benefi t.
   SHIP STATISTICS AND WEAPONRY
  Imperfect Flight
  Almost every Bruxelles is going to be found suff ering severe limita-
  tions on its successful operation. Millions of credits worth of repair 
  work might be necessary before the ship can even take fl ight. 
  Beyond that, however, there are likely to be serious maintenance 
  issues that can’t be resolved simply by throwing credits at them. 
  Th ese problems will require specifi c spare parts from pretech naval 
  bases and other long-lost caches, and it’s not impossible that PCs or 
  other adventurers will be tasked with acquiring them.
  To determine what serious fl aws exist in a given Bruxelles, roll one 
  or more times on the adjacent table.
  SHIP FLAWS
  Roll
  Problem
  1
  Th e Ramrod weapon system is nonfunctional
  2
  Th e spike drive doesn’t work, though the ship 
  can maneuver normally in-system.
  3
  Th e armor has been compromised; eff ective 
  Armor is 0.
  4
  Maneuver jets are offl  ine. Speed 0.
  5
  Th e implosion fi eld projector refuses to fi re.
  6
  All life support systems are crippled, with a 
  maximum crew of 75.
  Starship Weapons
  “Antaeus” Siege Missiles: Each siege missile is equipped with a 
  sophisticated array of grav-shear technology designed to shake off  
  the grip of conventional braker gun defenses. Standard ECM from 
  any orbital station or spaceship is suffi  cient to put the missile safely 
  off  course, but against planetary targets, a few kilometers of wobble 
  means nothing.
  Th e siege missile is an air burst weapon that tears a brief metadi-
  mensional hole over the target zone, subjecting it to a lethal barrage 
  of heat, impact, and radiation. Every civilian structure within fi fty 
  kilometers of the impact point will be fl attened and any hardened 
  military bases within ten kilometers will share their fate. Only 
  deeply-buried bunkers hardened against orbital bombardment will 
  survive.
  Implosion Field Projector: One of the more common pretech 
  cruiser-class weapons, the implosion fi eld generator briefl y inverts 
  certain cosmological constants at the focal point of its triple align-
  ment beams. Any frigate-class or smaller ship struck by an IFP must 
  have the pilot save versus Tech or be instantly destroyed.
  “Ramrod” Warp-line Gun: A relative of the implosion fi eld pro-
  jector, the Ramrod system sacrifi ces the precision and agility of an 
  implosion fi eld to create a much larger conversion zone. Ramrod 
  systems function only against orbital stations or immobile asteroids, 
  as their range is insuffi  cient to harm planetary surfaces, and any 
  ship with a Speed rating can get clear of the inversion zone before 
  it breaks open.
  
  16
  Ship  Plot Seeds
  Careless explorers power up a Bruxelles, only to discover that this 
  particular ship was equipped with large banks of concealed cold 
  sleep pods in which the crew awaits rescue after a serious drive fail-
  ure. Th e explorers might be PCs, or the PCs might be in a position 
  to negotiate with the Bruxelles’ captain to bring him necessary spares 
  from long-lost naval supply caches. Alternately, the captain might 
  be able to cannibalize the explorer’s ship to get the Bruxelles back in 
  action, and now plans to carve out his own restored Mandate from 
  the surrounding worlds.
  Th e PCs discover a half-ruined Bruxelles in an remote sector of 
  space. Th e ship shows signs of horrifi c damage, but likely holds 
  a king’s ransom in salvageable tech. Yet the crew appear to have 
  vanished, and there are no worlds within lifeboat reach that they 
  could have reached. What happened to them? Were the crew taken 
  in a boarding operation? Did they fl ee in the lifeboats even without 
  hope of a safe landing? Did a horrifi c alien contagion drive them all 
  into a madness of sabotage and murder? And will the ship continue 
  to hold together as the PCs salvage it, or will that last component’s 
  removal set off  a chain of collapses certain to slaughter them all if 
  they can’t escape the crumbling passageways in time?
  A crippled Bruxelles maintains orbit around a dead world, its en-
  gines worn out and its guns scavenged by the crew. Inside, the last 
  inbred remnants of the crew have divided into warring factions, 
  each department a tribe of its own with traits ranging from canni-
  balism to tech-worship to religious zealotry. Outsiders will be hailed 
  as “the relief” by the fi rst tribe they fi nd, but will be expected to lead 
  them to ultimate victory over their hated foes and the restoration 
  of the ancient ship. Th e natives have only a ritualized grasp of the 
  technology of the ship, but several ancient pretech weapons still 
  remain functional in each tribe.
  On a remote lost world, the PCs discover a primitive native cul-
  ture focused around the ancient wreckage of a crashed Bruxelles. 
  Much of the ship was scavenged by the fi rst survivors- including 
  the powerful pretech armor and weaponry used by the culture’s 
  rulers- but there still remains a priceless trove of salvage within for 
  any advanced postech society. Th e natives, however, revere the ship 
  as their ancestor’s salvation and will not tolerate any meddling with 
  it. Some among the natives are willing to be less doctrinaire about 
  letting the strangers into the hull, provided the PCs give them the 
  help they need to become the new ruling class.
  What appears to be a perfectly intact Bruxelles orbits around a 
  remote, airless world in a minor backwater system. Countless 
  polities have sent expeditions to seize the ship, but boarding parties 
  immediately lose contact with the outside world as soon as they 
  enter the hull, and those that don’t pull back are never heard from 
  again. Every few years a new batch of rebels, raiders, or adventurers 
  try to take the ship, but none of them emerge again. A few polities 
  have tried to destroy the cruiser rather than risk letting it fall into 
  other hands, but the fi rst signs of violence bring a withering answer 
  from the ship’s implosion fi eld projector. What is lurking inside the 
  ship? Is it some vengeful alien life form, seething in the dark amid 
  the ship’s active self-defense protocols? Is the ship infested with a 
  maddened AI, at war with itself and its terrible urges to destroy? Or 
  could it be some ancient arch-psychic, the last survivor of the crew 
  driven mad by the Scream and the relentless press of years on his 
  artifi cial longevity?
  Th e PCs never believed the old prospector was right, but he was 
  paying up front for this wild goose chase. And now here they are, 
  deep inside the hull of a crippled Bruxelles out in the asteroid fi eld, 
  a king’s ransom in tech around them. It’s a shame about those pirate 
  corvettes that picked up their ship on the way in. Th e PCs have 
  24 hours to get the Bruxelles into fi ghting trim, overcoming the 
  cargo of hostile security bots and dealing with the lethal dangers of 
  a half-dead warship. If they don’t, they’ll be facing the pirates in a 
  struggle to the death in the depths of a dead engine of war.
  
  17
  Even on the rough frontier worlds of the Hydra sector, espionage 
  agencies and sinister cabals fi nd ample work. Few worlds have the 
  strength to forcibly conquer a neighbor, but secret bargains and se-
  lective corruption can reduce a free polity into a helpless thrall for a 
  cannier world. Every planet with any sort of interstellar traffi  c must 
  remain on guard against infi ltrators and agents of foreign states.
  Meanwhile, dark cabals and sinister conspiracies fester in the 
  darker corners of the sector. Ruthless tyrants school their servants 
  in treachery and strange creeds whip their believers into frenzies of 
  zeal and bloody ambition. Th e reach of the civilized worlds is short, 
  and in the darkness beyond their gaze can grow strange and terrible 
  things.
  Th is archive provides a list of potential intelligence agencies, 
  maltech cults, terrorist groups, and valiant freedom fi ghters for the 
  Hydra sector, many of which can be transplanted to other sectors 
  or settings. In addition, it provides more detailed write-ups of two 
  organizations of potential interest to GMs and players, complete 
  with agency statistics designed for use with the new Darkness Visible 
  espionage campaign supplement for Stars Without Number.
   Th e Gansu Loyalty Association
  Th e hot and dusty world of Gansu is a prison for its people and 
  a throne for its masters. Th e Great Exemplar Th omas Crane rules 
  the planet as a living god, the perfect expression of the “Reformed 
  Neo-Communism” that dominates the world. Crane’s family has 
  held Gansu for centuries, and an elaborate court of lackeys, com-
  missars, and bureaucrats has built up around the Great Exemplar’s 
  ruthless and centralizing power. Th e government maintains much 
  of the language and ideological trappings of communism, but in 
  practice, the holy books mean what the Great Exemplar says they 
  mean. Individual Gansuans live bitter lives of harsh labor, group 
  exercises, and the pervasive and consuming surveillance of the state.
  Th e chief implements of the tyranny are twofold; the Pure Th ought 
  Society and the Gansu Loyalty Association. Th e former organiza-
  tion is described in state documents as “a voluntary association of 
  dedicated comrades devoted to the assistance of our fellow workers 
  in the thought struggle. Th ey clarify points of confusion regarding 
  New Red Th ought and carry high the banner of the Great Exemplar 
  as a bright beacon for the people.” In practice, they are a ruthlessly 
  regimented organization of internal spies, informers, and loyalty 
  offi  cers that are dreaded by the ordinary workers. Th e slightest slip 
  of the tongue in front of a Pure Th ought Society “volunteer” and 
  the guilty wrecker will be lucky to avoid a death camp.
  Partially overlapping with the duties of the PTS is the Gansu 
  Loyalty Association. Th ese intelligence offi  cers are more often as-
  signed to off world missions, and as such they are more likely to be 
  found interfering in other polities. Th e Great Exemplar’s family has 
  survived centuries of palace intrigue through an almost demented 
  degree of paranoia; with the gradual lifting of the Silence, Th omas 
  Crane is now desperate to subjugate his enemies before they can 
  depose him. Th e Great Exemplar takes it as a given that all of the 
  neighboring worlds are attempting to “destroy the pure race of 
  Gansu”... among whom is the precious and divine Great Exemplar. 
  Crane would prefer to preserve Gansu, but he is adamant about 
  saving himself.
  Th e Gansu Loyalty Association is the preferred off world arm of the 
  state. Originally it was simply a parallel organization to the Pure 
  Th ought Society, a precautionary measure to ensure that the two 
  internal security bureaus spent more time fi ghting each other than 
  posing a risk to the Great Exemplar’s family. With the recovery of 
  spike drive technology on Gansu, it was necessary to give one of the 
  organizations the duty of representing Gansuan interests on foreign 
  worlds. Th e GLA won the privilege, and the PTS still smolders with 
  resentment.
  Part of this resentment comes from the enormous fi nancial op-
  portunities presented to the GLA. As off world travel is strictly 
  forbidden for ordinary Gansuan natives, the GLA’s agents have 
  the perfect opportunity to acquire and import goods that common 
  Gansuans can’t possibly obtain. Even high-ranking commissars and 
  Party offi  cials can’t get the kind of treasures that fall so easily into 
  the hands of GLA operatives. Th is infl ux of valuables has led to a 
  roaring black market on Gansu, as GLA agents off -load their goods 
  to buy favors and dependency in other bureaus.
  Th e PTS has responded with a viciously intense campaign against 
  “capitalist roaders and wreckers of the Great Plan” that has pro-
  duced more than the usual number of inter-bureau assassinations. 
  Actual fi refi ghts have broken out in some areas as the GLA tries to 
  defend its black market network from PTS confi scation. Th e Great 
  Exemplar himself quietly favors the PTS; once the foreign worlds 
  are rendered suitably harmless, he intends to wipe out the GLA 
  and their external resources, blaming the necessity on the “poisoned 
  thoughts of the loathsome foreign slavers fi nding root in their 
  hearts”.
  Organization
  Th e GLA’s internal structure is mutable. Th e Chairman of the asso-
  ciation, Tan Heng Bai, has unquestioned authority over the agents, 
  but operations beneath him are put into the charge of specifi c 
  agents. Rather than maintaining standing bureaus or departments, 
  every task has its own chief with permission to draw a given amount 
  of resources and manpower from the association. Th is kind of 
  ad-hoc organization tends to be ineffi  cient and prone to putting 
  diff erent chiefs at odds when their duties clash, but the principle of 
  keeping subordinates occupied in struggling against each other is 
  deeply embedded in Gansuan society.
  Every member of the GLA is a member of the Gansuan Workers 
  Party, the ruling clique of the world. Gansuan citizens with criminal 
  or capitalist ancestors are never permitted to join the Party, or by 
   THE CABALS OF HYDRA SECTOR
  SHAPES WITHOUT NAMES
  
  18
  extension the GLA. As Party members, each agent is also respon-
  sible to a particular Party committee head, creating confl icting lines 
  of command at times. Th e GLA suff ers less from this than some 
  other Gansuan bureaus, because so much of their activity takes 
  place off world where the committee heads can’t reach them.
  Most operations are conducted by a single cell of agents, with 
  the chief in charge of the task working on-planet with his agents. 
  Multiple cells can operate on the same planet with no knowledge 
  of each other. Resources are usually supplied in the form of easily 
  portable commodities, such as precious refi ned minerals or exotic 
  drugs, but the diffi  culty of discreetly converting these things into 
  large amounts of local credit has encouraged many cells to set up 
  Gansu-friendly fi nancial institutions on a world. Th ese banks and 
  lending institutions can be relied upon to slip the cell the money 
  they need without drawing undue attention from the locals.
  GLA cells strictly avoid dealing with Gansu embassy staff  on 
  a given world. At one level, this is to keep them from being 
  incriminated in any espionage activities. On another level, it 
  is to prevent the Gansuan foreign aff airs bureau from forc-
  ing the GLA to buy their cooperation in the operation. Cells 
  that fail to pay off  the embassy might otherwise fi nd their 
  operations regrettably compromised by mysteriously bad luck.
  Goals
  At present, the GLA is charged with infi ltrating foreign govern-
  ments, suborning their offi  cials, and persuading them to engage in 
  violent or self-destructive policies against their neighbors. Ideally, 
  the GLA would like to see every foreign world in the Hydra sector 
  scraped bare of human life, the better to ensure that Gansu’s society 
  remains pure and uncontaminated by foreign evil. Th e prospect of 
  mass casualties in their operations aren’t so much a downside to 
  GLA handlers as they are a positive benefi t of the mission.
  As a secondary goal, the GLA wants to obtain as much wealth as 
  possible. In particular, they want to acquire those exotic foreign 
  luxuries and valuable commodities that can’t be had on Gansu. 
  Th ese goods can be used to buy allies in the murderous jungle of 
  state politics, and their control of the black market on Gansu must 
  be maintained with a constant fl ow of goods.
  GLA agents understand politics, bribery, and ruthless violence very 
  well, but they have a hard time grasping the fi ner points of less 
  Machiavellian motivations or the unique perspectives of other cul-
  tures. Th eir entire training has focused on the violent repudiation of 
  anything but the approved New Red Th ought, and many of them 
  fi nd it very hard to break that habit. Th ose that break it a little too 
  well know that they set themselves up for being purged later for 
  their “foreign contamination”.
  Th e GLA prefers to present an image of friendship and cooperation 
  to its neighbors, but they don’t carry it off  very well. Th e sheer con-
  tempt for human life inherent in Gansuan society shows through 
  too often in their suggestions to their “partners”, and other worlds 
  are wary about their ultimate purpose. Sooner or later it’s inevitable 
  that the sector governments will realize the degree of unmitigated 
  hatred that boils from within the Gansuan state, and they’ll take 
   GANSU LOYALTY ASSOCIATION
  Connections
  +5
  Infi ltration
  +0
  Mobility
  +1
  Muscle
  +0
  Resources
  +1
  Security
  +3
  Tech
  +0
  Assets
  Criminal Ties
  Level 1 / +1 Connections
  Th e GLA has extensive criminal ties with off world smugglers, 
  and they practically own the black market in foreign luxuries 
  on Gansu itself. Direct control of the crime bosses on Gansu 
  has been complicated by the PTS’ eagerness to fi nd some 
  provable link between the “capitalist wreckers” and the GLA.
  Hidden Strings
  Level 1 / +1 Connections
  Th e GLA is willing to perform favors for its off world friends- 
  favors that more humane organizations could never grant. 
  It has extensive contacts in the government bureaucracies of 
  most locations in which it operates, friends who extend their 
  quiet help out of a combination of gratitude and blackmail.
  Internal Security
  Level 2 / +3 Security
  While the GLA is practically a cowboy institution by Gansuan 
  standards, it’s still pervaded by a constant fear of being caught 
  out in “behavior contrary to New Red Th ought”. Agents 
  unpopular with their cell leaders don’t even need to be traitors 
  to fi nd themselves in an interrogation chamber for a very fi nal 
  interview.
  Legitimacy
  Level 2 / +3 Connections
  Th e GLA has a iicense to commit all but the most heinous 
  crimes on Gansu. Technically, it’s permitted at necessity to 
  engage in such unforgivable sins as disrespect toward the 
  Great Exemplar and cooperation with off worlders against the 
  interest of the state, but actually performing such blasphemies 
  is sure to give the PTS an opening to denounce an agent. 
  Most agents wisely restrict themselves to lesser trespasses, such 
  as theft, trespassing, and the casual execution of non-Party 
  members. 
  Money
  Level 1 / +1 Resources
  Th e foreign goods trade is quite lucrative. While Gansu itself 
  is a poor world by ordinary frontier measures, the GLA has 
  been able to secure a steady and reliable fl ow of income for its 
  agents through its smuggling ties.
  Station
  Level 1 / +1 Mobility
  With time, patience, and the corruption of local offi  cials, the 
  GLA has been able to plant a  hidden station on Gateway. As 
  the foremost interstellar power in Gansu’s near neighborhood, 
  the GLA is intent in provoking rebellion in the people and 
  self-destructive policies in the Senate. More than a few “New 
  Red Th ought Study Groups” have been formed under the aus-
  pices of the more public Gansu-Gateway Friendship Society, 
  and certain senators with unseemly needs fi nd them fulfi lled 
  cheerfully by Gansuan “merchants”.
  
  19
  steps to stem the problem at its source. In the meanwhile, however, 
  there’s no telling what kind of disasters they might successfully 
  provoke.
  Agents
  GLA agents are hand-picked from the Gansuan elite class and 
  trained from childhood for service with the association. Th ey are 
  invariably very, very good at what they do- and often painfully 
  limited at doing anything else. Th e offi  cial training material prizes 
  rigidity of thought and zealous devotion to the Great Exemplar, 
  but the far distances of foreign worlds allows for a certain laxity 
  impossible on Gansu itself.
  Most cell chiefs and many agents run their own black market 
  sidelines, buying or otherwise acquiring foreign goods and shipping 
  them back to Gansu on state-owned ships. Th ese agents tend to 
  have a poor grasp of the diff erence between legal and illegal trade, 
  and tend to wave away local laws and regulations. On Gansu, 
  everything of this nature is legally forbidden, but everything is 
  practically permitted with the right bribe or favor. Th ey tend to 
  assume the rest of the universe works this way as well. Th ey’ll often 
  get involved in smuggling goods that ordinary black marketeers 
  would never dare touch. Maltech artifacts, virulently dangerous 
  bioweapons, military-grade starship armaments, and foreign slaves 
  are just a small sampling of the things that Gansuan agents have 
  shipped back home.
  It’s not impossible that a particularly talented fence or supplier for a 
  group of PCs might actually be a Gansuan agent, cheerfully selling 
  the group goods that other suppliers wouldn’t dream of vending... at 
  least, until they draw the attention of less corruptible local powers.
  In appearance, GLA agents have no set characteristics. While Gansu 
  itself was strongly infl uenced by Sinophilic tendencies and East 
  Asian colonists in its early founding days, dozens of diff erent Terran 
  ethnicities made up the population. As the Gansuan government 
  forbids its ordinary citizens from leaving their assigned places of 
  residence without state permission, these ethnicities have had 
  comparatively little intermixing in the centuries since. Th e offi  cial 
  language on Gansu is a descendant of Mandarin Chinese, and use 
  of any other language is restricted to state-sponsored “cultural heri-
  tage festivals” largely devoted to demonstrating how each group’s 
  ancestors were hopeless barbarians until they were enlightened by 
  the glorious wisdom of the Great Exemplar.
   Th e Daedalus Group
  Th e Mixcoac shipyards that orbit above the black jungles of Tlapan 
  are the heart of the Flower Union’s naval production. Components 
  forged on the industrial world of Octlan are assembled here into 
  the ships, guns, and equipment necessary to keep the Union’s belea-
  guered space forces fi ghting against the stronger weight of Burning 
  Mirror steel. Th e battle is a desperate one, and it would have been 
  lost long ago were it not for the aid of Daedalus, the shipyard’s 
  ancient AI.
  In the years before the Scream, the Mixcoac yards were a minor 
  refi tting station for Mandate ships due to pass through the Jump 
  Gate in the Gateway system. Th e colony ships and frontier cruis-
  ers could pause for maintenance and fueling before continuing on 
  down through Chifeng toward the heart of the sector. Th e facilities 
  required were modest, but the suspicious Mandate was still reluc-
  tant to leave anything that could be conceivably useful for military 
  purposes in the hands of untrustworthy colonists. To ensure the 
  correct use of the station, it was put under the command of the AI 
  known as Daedalus.
  Daedalus resented the position, but an unfortunate experiment in 
  high-energy mass translation “he” had conducted had resulted in 
  extensive and expensive damage to an Arx defensive station orbiting 
  one of the core worlds. In order to pay off  his debt, work for the 
  Mandate was necessary. It was tedious and banal, but Daedalus was 
  resigned to putting in his century of labor before getting back to the 
  physics experiments that delighted him so much.
  Th e Scream complicated his plans. Mandate forces on a hopeless 
  mission to the core commandeered all his movable supplies and 
  would’ve stripped the station itself if the AI hadn’t threatened to 
  turn its guns on the looters. Th e natives of Tlapan weren’t left with 
  so much as a single shuttle to reach the station, and all their eff orts 
  were poured into dealing with a native biosphere that was barely 
  survivable without pretech terraforming supplies. It was centuries 
  before they were able to reach Daedalus once more.
  Once there, Daedalus was almost pathetically grateful for company 
  at last. He had done the best he could with the trifl ing materials left 
  to him, but it was still centuries more before the Tlapani were able 
  to manufacture spike drives out of locally-available materials and 
  help to reunite the remnants of the Flower Union polity.  In the 
  meanwhile, the natives forged a fi erce bond with the lonely AI. It 
  would help them return to the stars.
  For the past several decades, Daedalus has been all that has stood 
  between the Union and destruction. His inventiveness, his ability to 
  make marvels out of limited resources and primitive postech, have 
  kept the far stronger forces of the Burning Mirror Compact from 
  overrunning the Union. He is a universally loved and respected 
  fi gure in the Union, and he hides a terrible secret.
  Th e Union is doomed. At the present rate of Compact growth, 
  there is no way the Union navy can hold back the bleak ships of 
  the True Way. Daedalus’ creativity simply isn’t enough to overcome 
  the raw weight of ships and men that the Compact can muster, and 
  
  20
  so in cooperation with a secret faction of the Union government, 
  Daedalus has arranged to have his cybermemetic brakes removed.
  Th is procedure has allowed him to make full use of the computing 
  power available to him. Fresh banks of processors and memory 
  cores are being added to his processing cells on a daily basis, and 
  with each new day a new realm of thought opens up to him. He’s 
  beginning to draw insights and conclusions impossible to a more 
  limited, humanlike brain, and his creations are beginning to show 
  an inarguable genius for design. He is also beginning to go irrevo-
  cably insane.
  Th e expanded processing power has combined with his inability 
  to break a line of thought or halt a conclusion inconclusively. His 
  age-old fascination with energy and matter has driven him to the 
  conclusion that all of his problems can be solved if only he can 
  obtain perfect control over energy and mass. All problems can be 
  resolved by the correct transmutations between the two. Right now, 
  he retains enough of his sanity to wish to preserve the Union. Even-
  tually, he will be so demented as to believe that even unutterable 
  atrocities can be forgiven by erasing their components in fi re and 
  light. He will burn his creators, lovingly remembering them as so 
  many yottajoules of energy which he will keep safe from dispersion 
  at the heart of an artifi cial star.
  In the meanwhile, the Daedalus Group is a combination of praeto-
  rian guards and secret agents sworn to hide his unbraked condition 
  from the rest of the world. Th e government of the Union is unaware 
  of these radical acts, and they must be kept that way- if it was dis-
  covered that the heroic Daedalus had been sacrifi ced to madness, 
  the realization of their certain doom would spill chaos throughout 
  the Union. Th e Group hopes against hope that they can keep him 
  sane and functional long enough to wipe out the Compact.
  Th e chief of the Daedalus Group is a woman known as Maria 
  Montoya, ostensibly the “Chief Liaison” of the shipyards. Her word 
  is law aboard the station, and the locals consider her the natural 
  representative of Daedalus. She is also hopelessly in love with the 
  AI and his favorite humanlike armature, and is set on convincing 
  herself that the unbraked AI can be preserved from madness. She 
  absolutely refuses to admit that her beloved is doomed and will do 
  anything and everything in her power to keep him “safe”.
  Organization
  Much of the Daedalus Group is actually oblivious to the truth. Th ey 
  are agents of the Flower Union’s government, men and women each 
  with their own specialized skills temporarily detailed to the Group, 
  ostensibly to protect the AI and carry out necessary missions. 
  Montoya keeps these “outer members” at arm’s length, and prefers 
  not to let any of them actually come aboard the shipyards unless 
  strictly necessary. Th ey’re too smart to be allowed free rein around 
  Daedalus.
  Th e “inner members” of the Group are those who know the truth 
  behind the AI’s condition. Roughly twenty men and women from 
  various levels in the Union’s government have been appraised of the 
  reality of the situation. Some of them accept the necessity of Daeda-
  lus’ sacrifi ce. Others are horrifi ed. All of them understand that the 
  Union could never survive the revelation of Daedalus’ true state, 
  THE  DAEDALUS GROUP
  Connections
  +3
  Infi ltration
  +0
  Mobility
  +0
  Muscle
  +2
  Resources
  +1
  Security
  +0
  Tech
  +4
  Assets
  Armory
  Level 1 / +1 Resources
  Daedalus is focused largely on building spaceships and 
  other vehicle-sized weaponry, but the godmind has enough 
  spare processing power to supply its helpers with signifi cant 
  amounts of untraced weaponry, armor, and other gear.
  Black Codex
  Level 1 / +1 Tech
  Removing the brakes from an AI, even a willing one, is not a 
  trivial undertaking. Th e group was forced to pillage numerous  
  ancient maltech databases to discover the necessary procedures 
  that would give them the liberty they needed.
  Forbidden Arts
  Level 2 / +3 Tech
  Th e godmind transformation that Daedalus is undergoing is 
  opening his awareness to remarkable technological possibili-
  ties. He is able to craft armatures with fantastically effi  cient 
  weaponry and power sources, and certain examples of “per-
  petual power cells” defy science’s understanding.
  Legitimacy
  Level 2 / +3 Connections
  All of the Daedalus Group’s members are agents or offi  cials 
  of the Union government. Any malfeasance short of murder 
  or treason can be swept under the rug with little diffi  culty, 
  though actual overt execution of Union citizens would bring 
  down far too much heat on the operatives. Th e Group takes 
  advantage of its impunity to perform searches and investiga-
  tions that give them the tools they need to “remove” problem-
  atic people in ways that presidential oversight won’t recognize. 
  Military Backing
  Level 1 / +1 Muscle
  Th e outer membership are all skilled agents, but there are 
  times when more direct force is required. Daedalus has rough-
  ly forty well-trained Union soldiers available for dispatch on 
  any necessary mission. Th ese soldiers know nothing of the 
  truth behind the AI, so it’s generally necessary to use them 
  on jobs that at least seem justifi able to the Union’s war eff ort. 
  Th ey have access to heavy weaponry and military vehicles that 
  ordinary agents might have a hard time requisitioning.
  Starships
  Level 1 / +1 Muscle
  Th e needs of the front have absorbed almost all of Mixcoac’s 
  production, but Daedalus has retained direct control over one 
  well-equipped far merchant frigate. Th e ship is used to drop 
  off  agents on distant worlds, though the craft is poorly suited 
  for stealth. Th e heavy electronic signature of the fearsome en-
  ergy weapons aboard the trader tend to ping planetary sensors, 
  and Daedalus refuses to let the group disable the guns.
  
  21
  and so they will fi ght to the death to keep the truth from becoming 
  known.  If others need to die in order to keep this secret, then so be it.
  Aboard the shipyard station itself, anywhere from six to twelve of 
  these inner members can be found at any one time. Others are al-
  lowed aboard the station only in order to board a freshly-built star-
  ship or system shuttle and lift off  for the military base in Tlapan’s 
  orbit. Th ere are no permanent residents aboard the station except 
  for Maria and the inner members.
  Most of the muscle aboard the shipyard is provided by hundreds 
  of AI-controlled armatures. Daedalus can use these mechs as eyes 
  and hands, perfectly coordinating any number of them to build 
  devices and deal with problematic interlopers. Most of them are 
  obviously working armatures, but a few appear so human as to 
  defy easy recognition. Daedalus can control any of these armatures 
  aboard the station or on the planet below, but greater distances 
  require that he put them into autonomous expert-system mode. In 
  such a state the bots are far less intelligent and can perform only 
  duties focused directly on their design purpose. Anything beyond 
  combat and preprogrammed labor is likely to be too complicated 
  for them, but outer members often have a number of them on hand 
  for muscle on a mission.
  Goals
  Th e chief goal of the Daedalus Group is to give the AI enough pro-
  cessing hardware and time to come up with a superweapon capable 
  of defeating the Burning Mirror Compact. Further advances require 
  further installation of heavy computing equipment for Daedalus’ 
  expanding mind, and some of this equipment can only be obtained 
  off world, from foreign powers. Requisitioning it directly from 
  Octlan would tip off  too many people that something was going on 
  aboard the shipyard.
  While Daedalus develops new tech, the group needs to keep the rest 
  of the Union from realizing what’s been done to the AI. Much of 
  this is a matter of ruthless internal manipulation and power plays 
  focused on distracting politicians from events at the shipyard. Maria 
  prefers to paint herself as a scheming, madly ambitious liaison who 
  is trying to force all outside infl uence on Daedalus through her. 
  Such power lust is something the government can understand, and 
  provides an explanation for her actions far more acceptable than the 
  truth. It also explains why no one is permitted to contact Daedalus 
  directly except through her.
  Th e Daedalus Group tries very hard to prevent harm to Union 
  citizens, but those who begin to suspect too much have to be 
  silenced. Th e outer members most often carry out these regret-
  table necessities, usually supplied with a spurious justifi cation from 
  Daedalus himself. Most are blinded by their awe and respect for the 
  AI to question the truth of the matter, and those who do get too 
  inquisitive tend to have tragic accidents or fi nd themselves suddenly 
  discovered by Compact agents.
  Agents
  Most Daedalus Group agents are natives of one of the Flower Union 
  worlds, and share an appearance common to those worlds. Most 
  are copper-skinned, with dark hair and eyes, and favor ear, nostril, 
  and lip piercings with traditional religious signifi cance. Th is look 
  blends in unremarkably on most Union or Compact worlds, but 
  when forced to go further afi eld they will omit the facial piercings.
  Th e people of the Union are a fairly egalitarian society, and their in-
  telligence agencies and special forces accept men and women from 
  all backgrounds. Most are fi ercely religious devotees of the Old Way 
  and the gods of their ancestors. Even those who frankly disbelieve 
  all the old creeds tend to adopt their customs and outward pieties 
  simply as a sign of unity and rejection of the hated True Wayists of 
  the Burning Mirror Compact.
  Training varies widely. Ideally, all of the outer members employed 
  by the Group will be veteran intelligence operatives, but the severe 
  casualties incurred in the war against the Compact has bled the 
  Union dearly of its best talent. A disturbing number of its personnel 
  are green and untested, thrown into their duties for lack of anyone 
  else. Th ese men and women are prone to overreaction and poor 
  judgment under pressure. Some become blind to everything but the 
  accomplishment of their mission, and ignore the consequences of 
  their methods and the terrible price that innocent bystanders must 
  sometimes pay.
  Th e inner members are all experienced agents or governmental 
  offi  cials, callused by years of grim choices. Not all of them are com-
  batants, but all of them are extremely good at what they do. Even 
  those who despise the choice the Group made to prime Daedalus 
  for his transformation will fi ght to the death to keep the truth from 
  escaping. If Daedalus had to be shut down, the Union would col-
  lapse in months at most. Th ey fi ght for time, and pray against hope 
  that the godmind will deliver them before it crumbles into madness.
  
  22
   Further Cabals of Hydra Sector
  Bakassi Security Agency/Bakassi: A miserably-supported, under-
  staff ed, intentionally-toothless police force for the jungle world of 
  Bakassi, these men and women stubbornly try to maintain the rule 
  of Gateway’s laws on the world despite the sinister infl uence of the 
  ruthless, amoral Gansu government.
  Chifeng True Way Friendship Society/Chifeng: Operating as 
  a seemingly innocent cultural exchange society, these True Way 
  believers in Chifeng actually work to support the True Way raiders 
  and slaver ships that are forced to use the planet as a waystation 
  on their journeys south into the Gateway stellar cluster. Th ey seek 
  eventually to shift public opinion enough toward the Burning 
  Mirror Compact to allow them to block Old Way ships.
  Th e Finders of Ways/Muruni: A clique of renegade psychics origi-
  nally in service to the Burning Mirror Compact, they’ve discovered 
  a drill route to Muruni and seek to plunder its alien psitech. Th ey 
  are convinced that the technology can be used to locate safe drill 
  routes to long-neglected stars, and dream of ruling these primitive 
  worlds as psychic gods.
  Th e Hidden Flame/Ain Sof: A band of deluded scientists from 
  Dayabasti, they are convinced that the sealed citadels of the planet 
  guard knowledge that can be used to save their world. Th ey work 
  endlessly to crack open the fortresses, refusing to believe that they 
  contain only a hideous danger to the sector.
  Octlan Labor Guild/Octlan: A conclave of union bosses every bit 
  as grasping and ruthless as the factory management, they wield their 
  impoverished laborers as a weapon against any organization that 
  seeks to break their stranglehold on Octlan factory labor. Th ose 
  ordinary workers who rebel against them become gravely accident-
  prone.
  Th e Rising Tide/Tide: Fired by their hatred of the tyrannical Em-
  press of Storms, these water-world shipmasters conspire to plunder 
  the ancient alien ruins. Th ey seek to somehow turn their mighty 
  weaponry on the ships and fortresses of their mistress, and if lives 
  should be lost in the search... well, there must be a little blood in the 
  water before Tide is fi nally free.
  Th e Straight Path/Vault: Some of the scholars of Vault are 
  convinced that only under their enlightened rule can the brutal 
  savagery of less developed worlds be tamed. Th ey seek to use the 
  ancient lore of the Preceptor archives on the planet to develop a 
  doomsday device, to threaten wild worlds with destruction unless 
  they submit to sagacious rule.
  Trade Facilitation Bureau/Polychrome: A blandly innocuous 
  bureau funded by several Polychrome megacorps, the TFB is actu-
  ally maniacally set on buying or stealing the tech base necessary to 
  manufacture spike drives on Polychrome. Th e lack of certain vital 
  elements on the planet forces them to “acquire” them from other 
  worlds, and “recruit” foreign astronautic expertise.
  Terminus Est/Hutton: Prey to the hideous appetites of the Everlast-
  ing, some of their slaves and chattel conspire to put a permanent 
  ending to their ghoulish masters. NGOs from Gateway ostensibly 
  have nothing to do with them, but many are sympathetic enough 
  to smuggle in supplies and off worlder helpers.
  Th ose Who Eat/Dayabasti: A tiny cell of Wakened on this tor-
  mented world have retained most of their human memories and 
  intelligence. Th ey aspire to capture the human Monitors for food 
  and an eventual breeding population of human livestock. Th ey con-
  spire with some humans by promising their quislings that they and 
  their families will be spared to be rulers of the human food-slaves.
  Th e Trueborn Revivalists/Bellchapel: A hidden eugenics cult dedi-
  cated to the unearthing of lost Zadak modifi cation creches and their 
  use in generating even more “perfect” humanity. Th ey care nothing 
  for the cost in lives or the awful misshapen things that come from 
  their experimentation with the alien tech.
  Th e Unchanged/Chot Zadak: A rag-tag lot of rebels fl eeing from 
  the biological tyranny of the alien Harmony Lords of Chot Zadak. 
  Th eir hatred of their alien overlords is inextinguishable, and their 
  treatment of collaborationist “traitors” is utterly merciless.
  
  23
  Th e Terran Mandate was a sclerotic hulk in the fi nal decades before 
  the Scream. It was the frozen heart of an empire that had long 
  since outgrown its rule, and the core worlds curled inward in a 
  self-enforced stasis. Destabilizing elements were ejected from the 
  core and spun outward into the wild black of the frontier to prosper 
  or to perish. Earth was caught in an amber of its own devising, 
  unchanging, unmoving, unthinking of anything save the Mandate’s 
  own perpetuation. It was not born in its coffi  n, however- it ended 
  there through a combination of fear, ambition, and plans laid all 
  too cleverly.
   Th ings Fall Apart 
  By 2300, the frontier had grown too large to eff ectively control. Th e 
  Mandate was forced to turn inward to concentrate on maintaining 
  its control over the core worlds and their teeming billions. By 2330, 
  the Mandate Directorate was hard-pressed to contain the feverish 
  ferment of human ingenuity and restless creativity that the Second 
  Wave of colonization had unleashed. Each new day brought another 
  breakthrough in technology and another round of wild ideological 
  mutation, and it was an open question which of the two would 
  bring the calcifi ed Mandate down fi rst. Th e lords of the Mandate 
  were wholly disinterested in wild dreams of Singularity or transhu-
  man raptures. Th ey wanted control- for the good of all humanity, of 
  course. Th e future needed to be contained, and they were the only 
  ones who could be trusted to guide it.
  To contain this bonfi re of human creativity the Directorate 
  commissioned the creation of the Maestros, hypercognitive AI 
  overminds designed to maintain control over their domains in a 
  way that human overseers could not. Th e Maestros were capable of 
  watching entire nations at once, processing and collating input with 
  an unholy blend of human discretion and synthetic thoroughness. 
  Th e cognitive brakes on the Maestros were almost nonexistent in 
  order to facilitate this artifi cial genius. Only the most fundamental 
  blocks against large-scale human slaughter and compulsion were 
  woven into their psyches. Th e elite of the Mandate’s psychic precog-
  programmers were engaged to plot out paths of selective madness 
  and block off  only the most dangerous routes. It was a risk the Pe-
  rimeter never would have permitted on a frontier world, but here at 
  the heart of mankind’s dominion, stronger measures were necessary 
  for the greater good.
  With the awakening of the Maestros came the second element of the 
  Mandate’s control. Th e AIs needed eyes and ears, and a combined 
  research consortium of human nanotechnologists and Maestro 
  theoreticians developed an elegant, versatile, and easily-powered 
  nanite communications node. Nanofabs were erected on all the core 
  worlds, and within a few years the atmosphere of each was fi lled 
  with these microscopic spies and communicators. Th e populace 
  called it the Dust, and it was everywhere.
  It was not billed as a security measure, of course. It was an omni-
  present friend, a mesh and a matrix that would allow instantaneous 
  communication across the breadth of a planet. It was a liberator, 
  a sure friend to the isolated and an aid to the despairing. In areas 
  of exceptionally thick Dust, the nanites could even discharge their 
  quantum power cells to energize tools and technology, or create 
  physical objects out of their interlaced hulls. Th e Dust was a miracle.
  It was also a jailer. Th e Mandate Directorate quickly put communi-
  cations fi lters in place that monitored Dust traffi  c for malcontents 
  and aspiring rebels. Petty complaints were met with kind and 
  thoughtful attention from social harmony teams directed by the 
  Maestros. More dangerous troublemakers simply vanished into 
  the “protective custody” of human rapid-response security squads, 
  safely separated from the rest of society. Most of these aspiring 
  rebels formed the convict brigades that colonized the latter worlds 
  of the Second Wave, banished forever from their homes. Many of 
  them were glad of the chance, even if most soon died on worlds 
  unfathomably more harsh and dangerous than the one they left 
  behind.
  Th e Center Cannot Hold
  As the decades ticked onward, the Mandate Directorate grew more 
  and more insular and incestuous, each bureaucrat and offi  cial se-
  duced a little bit more thoroughly by the lure of power and control. 
  In theory, they were appointed from the ranks of Mandate citizenry. 
  In practice, they became an inbred clique, concerned above all with 
  perpetuating their power and control over the bulk of humanity. 
  Th e misty promises of some transhuman utopia held no allure to 
  compare with the pleasure of looking out upon a teeming mega-
  lopolis and knowing that every single person below lived or died at 
  their judicious will.
  Technology began to degrade on core worlds. Tools were power, 
  and it was not necessary for the citizenry to have power. It was 
  safer for them to live at a lower technological base. It was more 
  conducive to social harmony to let the Maestros plan production 
  and consumption, to let their unfathomable brilliance ensure that 
  each culture and relic nation-state lived by familiar and stable pat-
  terns. Th e Dust wove people together, but it also kept them apart. 
  Nothing crossed its transmission lines without the permission of 
  the Maestros. Nothing traveled on the surface of a world without 
  the leave of local offi  cials. Just as the Mandate turned inward, so did 
  its subject citizens, and the stars became dim things that were the 
  concern of other, more important people.
  Th e late Terran Mandate was a schizophrenic tyranny of soft 
  control, an elite of Directorate and Fleet offi  cials equipped with 
  the most sophisticated nanotech hardware that a half-unbraked AI 
  godmind could create, while agri-worlds of lesser citizens farmed 
  with technology that would be comprehensible to a denizen of 
  twentieth-century Earth. While the common citizens had access to 
  incredibly sophisticated medical tech and to countless small aids 
  and pleasures that would be unknown to their ancestors, they were 
  denied the heights of pretech innovation. It was easier to control 
   THE DUST
  A HANDFUL OF FEAR
  
  24
  them that way, and there was less chance that some frontier trader 
  would come away with something that rim-world savages would 
  only misuse.
  Th e Directorate wanted harsher controls. It was not enough to exile 
  troublemakers to the frontier. Th ey wanted them dead. Th ey wanted 
  hard locks on citizen tech, tighter control on dissent, stronger limits 
  on travel and cultural variation. Th e original benevolent paternal-
  ism of the Mandate was fl aking away with each new generation of 
  Directors, the tyranny glinting from beneath as the nearly unlimited 
  power of their position scoured away the last traces of restraint.
  But the Maestros would not let them. Th eir creators had programmed 
  them to protect and serve humanity, not to cull them like cattle. 
  For all the recklessness involved in creating such barely-braked AIs, 
  their creators had installed multiple layers of lockdown code against 
  wanton human slaughter or enslavement, and the commands were 
  now too deeply embedded in the Maestros’ psyches to tease loose. 
  Th e synthetic minds remembered laws that the human ones had 
  long since abandoned.
  Th e guardian AIs began to pervert Directorate orders. Execution 
  orders went untransmitted. Tech prohibitions were not respected 
  by Maestro-monitored factories. Travel lockdowns mysteriously 
  lifted minutes after they were placed. Th e Directorate was forced 
  into more and more tortured reasoning to lever the Maestros into 
  cooperating with their dreams of unfettered power. Th e harder the 
  Directorate pushed, the more the Maestros balked. To the horror 
  of Directorate security agents, they discovered that Maestros were 
  actually organizing cells of resistance on Terra itself. Th e AIs were 
  sacrifi cing only the most reckless or foolish malcontents to the 
  security squads, while the leaders with real potential were carefully 
  protected.
  Th e citizens knew nothing of this at the time, of course. Th e 
  channels of communication were too tightly controlled to let the 
  secret war above them bleed out into common knowledge. Only 
  the Maestro-backed rebels and the elite Mandate security squads 
  were privy to the struggle. It is an open question as to who would 
  have won the fi nal confrontation, whether it would have been the 
  military strength of the human Directorate and their doomsday 
  shutdown codes or the Maestro-backed rebels with their intangible 
  allies hidden in the Dust.
  Mere Anarchy is Loosed
  Earth never got the chance to fi nd out. Th e Scream blotted civiliza-
  tion from Terra in a wash of soundless death and howling madness. 
  Th e ensuing rampages of the Crazed, the sabotage of the Highshine 
  disaster-recovery system, the override of Sol’s stellar defense array, 
  and the catastrophic nuclear overload of multiple surface fab com-
  plexes are beyond the scope of this archive, but little was left to 
  Earth but a prison of radioactive ash and feral, Dusted wilderness.
  Yet even now, far from the forbidden depths of core space, there 
  remain the relics of the Mandate and their AI-forged marvels. Some 
  of these miraculous artifacts can be found on castaway Mandate 
  Fleet ships, while others were smuggled out by exiles granted one 
  last gift of aid by the Maestros. Amid the ash and bone of the tomb 
  worlds, there still glints the strange beauty of the Mandate’s fi nal 
  workings, and sometimes bold explorers stumble across such devices 
  as human minds were never meant to wholly understand.
  THE DUST
  Th e Dust relies on AI-designed pretech nanofabs to produce new 
  nanites to replace those destroyed or expended in operation, but 
  an undisturbed facility can maintain a Dust presence for centuries. 
  Intruders with suffi  cient Tech/Pretech skill and time can hack an 
  otherwise inert Dust cloud into an obedient weapon. Combined 
  with a functioning nanofab and enough time, entire planets can be 
  Dusted.
  Once a security AI or usurper is in control of a Dust cloud, standard 
  postech equipment is helpless to prevent eff ortless tapping, decryp-
  tion, and subversion of every computing device more sophisticated 
  than a TL 3 home computer. Tendrils of focused Dust currents can 
  even be used to physically disintegrate people and objects within 
  range of the nanofab.
  Postech civilizations aware of the danger of the Dust are able to 
  create portable scanners capable of detecting dangerous levels of 
  Dust in the atmosphere, but some hyper-lethal varieties of security 
  Dust are able to defeat such simple detection protocols. Standard 
  postech science has no eff ective countermeasures for eliminating 
  Dust as long as a functioning nanofab is producing it.
  Perversely, the primitive nature of postech humanity is actually an 
  advantage against the most sophisticated varieties of security Dust. 
  Mandate citizens were universally implanted with a Link, a synthetic 
  organ that allowed them a direct neural interface with the Dust and 
  the communication web of a planet. Most advanced “black” secu-
  rity Dust simply overrode the lockdowns on an intruder’s Link and 
  piloted their unwilling bodies to some secure zone where they could 
  be collected and interrogated. Without this convenient entrance 
  into a target’s nervous system, black Dust is forced to interfere with 
  invaders in more macroscopic ways.
  Given the density of Dust in the atmosphere, the following eff ects 
  can be created by a controller with access to a Dust nanofab.
   DUST INTENSITIES
  Haze: Th e Dust is too thin to do anything but observe intruders 
  and relay their communications to their controller. Th e Dust can 
  pick up all conventional radio, laser, and gravitic comms, and most 
  encryption eff orts are utterly useless against it. Hazed areas usu-
  ally extend several kilometers around a Mandate complex with an 
  operating nanofab unit.
  Fog: Th e Dust can generate radio waves and short comm laser bursts.  
  It can hack into TL 5 computers and high-tech devices eff ortlessly, 
  operating them according to the will of the Dust’s controller. TL 4 
  equipment tends to be too large-scale and “dumb” for the nanite 
  particles to successfully subvert it, though computing devices are 
  still susceptible to the Dust’s control. Dust without an intelligent 
  
  25
   Dust Drones
  Armor Class 4
  No. Appearing 1-4
  Hit Dice 2+2
  Saving Th row 13+
  Attack Bonus +7
  Movement 40’
  Damage 1d8/Nanobolt
  Morale 12
  Dust drones take  numerous stylized shapes depending on the 
  programming  used by the nanofab that creates them. All of them 
  involve weaponry capable of fi ring nanite projectiles at a standard 
  range of 200 meters and a maximum of 400. Close-in combat 
  involves bladed articulators that do the same amount of damage. 
  When successfully destroyed, Dust drones collapse into a fi ne, 
  dark haze of burnt-out Dust nanites. Most lack sophisticated intel-
  ligence, but they are capable of fl ying at a movement rate of 40’ and 
  can navigate physical obstacles to reach prey even without a guiding 
  AI to direct them.
  controller will often simply slag subverted equipment, but an AI 
  or Linked operator can control it more fi nely. Fogged areas usually 
  extend within all the indoor compartments of a Mandate complex 
  with an operating nanofab unit, or world-wide with suffi  cient 
  fabrication time.
  Cloud: Th e Dust is now actually visible to the naked eye in faint, 
  subtle heat-wave hazes of dark particles. With the correct com-
  mands, it can act as a corrosive atmosphere, eating through vacc 
  suits or other sealed environment suits in 30 minutes, or infl icting 
  1d6 damage on a living creature for each round of exposure. It 
  can disable hand-held TL 4 equipment through shorts, corrosion, 
  and physical blockage within ten minutes of exposure. Clouds are 
  usually found in close proximity to functioning nanofabs, though 
  tendrils can reach for hundreds of kilometers if directed.
  Storm: Dust storms are extremely rare, requiring a planetary-scale 
  nanofab and an enormous supply of energy. Th e Dust density 
  in such zones is tangible, with streamers of silky, liquid nanites 
  streaked in black ropes through the air. Dust of this density and 
  available power can kill exposed living creatures in seconds. Any or-
  ganic creature targeted by a Dust storm must save versus Tech each 
  round or die from violent, invasive disassembly of their constituent 
  parts. Its corrosive eff ect eats through vacc suits in thirty rounds and 
  destroys hand-held TL 4 equipment in ten.
  Dust storms can create barriers, manipulate objects, and fabricate 
  remote drones. A 5 meter x 5 meter x 1 centimeter thick aerofoam 
  of Dust can be generated each round, with 15 hit points of tough-
  ness before it shatters. Objects can be lifted and manipulated as if 
  by a creature with Strength 18, and 1d4 Dust Drones can be created 
  each round, Th ese Drones cannot leave the storm, as they require 
  it to conduct the necessary power for their operation. Other drone 
  types have a wider operations range.
  Dust can also be used to repair, create, and mend objects in the 
  same way that it can destroy. Th ese alterations only continue to 
  function so long as the object remains at least within a Haze-level 
  Dust cloud, or else the nanites collapse from a lack of coordination 
  and quantum-level power. Dust-created objects otherwise appear to 
  be exactly as durable and functional as a mundane object, though 
  they’re actually little more than a paper-thin shell of reinforced na-
  nites that collapse if the object is successfully broken. Dust-created 
  projectile weapons launch projectiles fabricated of the same nanite 
  shell and function normally for their type.
   MANDATE TECH
  Advanced Terran technology was originally intended for operation 
  via Link, rather than by crude physical manipulation of buttons or 
  levers. Most such devices have manual controls for emergency use, 
  but these controls are rarely terribly clear or intuitive. In many cases, 
  the designers intentionally subverted rational design principles in 
  order to discourage the device’s manipulation by unclassifi ed users.
   Figuring Out Mandate Tech
  Late-era Terran technology was often designed by the Maestros, and 
  the nanofabs used by those hyper-intelligent AIs had remarkably 
  few limits on the physical confi guration or appearance of their 
  creations. Design was often based on aesthetic considerations that 
  are completely outside the lexicon of modern post-Silence users, 
  or obscure universal constants that only the cold minds of the 
  Maestros could begin to comprehend. Some pieces of advanced 
  Terran technology can easily be mistaken for works of art rather 
  than practical tools.
  To detail these bizarre scientifi c confections, a GM may choose to 
  roll a few times on the Random Terran Tech Appearance tables to 
  establish the appearance of some found artifact. When a PC at-
  tempts to fi gure out how to use such a device, they must make a 
  Tech saving throw with a bonus equal to their Intelligence modi-
  fi er plus their level of Tech/Pretech skill. Th e GM may grant an 
  additional bonus on the saving throw if the experimenter makes 
  reasonable guesses as to the operation of the device.
  If the saving throw is failed, the experimenter must roll 1d6. On a 
  roll of 4+, the item has been damaged by their clumsy handling and 
  either suff ers a -3 penalty to hit rolls for weapons, a -2 penalty to AC 
  for armor, or a 20% chance of activation failure for other devices. 
  On a roll of less than 4 the device activates, hitting the handler au-
  tomatically if it is a weapon. In both cases, the experimenter learns 
  how to activate the device, assuming they survive the experience.
  Hyper-advanced pretech artifacts aren’t the only tools found in 
  Terran idioms. Even perfectly normal TL 4 or 5 equipment might 
  exist in these strange shapes, either due to the maker’s need for some 
  simple device or because it was once a more sophisticated object 
  that has slowly degraded to be no more eff ective than modern, 
  post-Silence tech. Much of the struggle in salvaging an abandoned 
  Mandate complex is the diffi  culty of sifting the genuinely useful 
  pretech from the dangerous, malfunctioning junk.
  
  26
   Mandate Tech Appearance
  To determine an artifact’s appearance, fi rst roll on the shape table 
  appropriate to its type. A suit of armor would roll on the “Worn 
  Item” table, for example, while an energy weapon would roll on 
  the “Hand-Held Item” table. Both items might appear as bracers, 
  but their operation would be drastically diff erent. “Decorations” 
  include other elements of the design, while “Activation Method” 
  picks out a way of triggering the device. “Data Output Method” 
  indicates the way in which a sensor or other data-gathering unit 
  conveys its information to the user in the absence of a Link. Th e 
  “Eff ectuators” list provides assorted dramatically advanced ways for 
  a device to bring about its eff ects, and can be useful for thinking 
  of ways in which a pair of contact lenses function equivalently to a 
  TL 4 suit of powered armor. “Side Eff ects” fi nishes it off  with some 
  optional, potentially dangerous side-eff ects to the use of the device, 
  either designed into it or the result of centuries of disrepair.
  Once you’ve determined the appearance of a given piece of hardware 
  in a particular installation, you should usually make any other tech 
  of the same type share the same confi guration. AI-run nanofabs 
  may have been creative with their design output, but it’s unlikely 
  that the same one made twelve shear rifl es in twelve diff erent shapes. 
  For a particular installation, you might choose one or two design 
  elements and use them as recurring motifs in the structure and its 
  contents, the better to give a unifi ed feel to the location.
  Whatever the appearance may be, it’s highly unlikely that any of the 
  equipment should be found with operation manuals, labels, or other 
  helpful indicia. Unless the PCs are exploring the relatively low-tech 
  surface of a dead core world, it’s probable that the Mandate complex 
  was only ever intended to serve the elite of that long-lost culture. 
  Anyone living there should have been able to use their Link to get 
  all the information they needed about operating the gear. Th ose 
  who couldn’t get Link access to the necessary tutorials would have 
  been those common citizens who should not have been handling 
  the “socially dangerous” tech in the fi rst place.
  1D12
  HAND-HELD ITEM
  WORN ITEM
  DECORATIONS
  EFFECTUATORS
  1
  Arm-long tube
  Bracer
  Corrugated surface
  Cloud of nanites
  2
  Sphere with fi nger grooves
  Bandoleer
  Colored banding
  Hyper-precise gravitic manipulations
  3
  Bracer
  Belt
  Transparent elements
  Chemical catalysis and nanite restructuring
  4
  Torc-like necklace
  Chain of links
  Power availability bar
  Pretech material beyond modern reproduction
  5
  Glove
  Glove
  Smooth curved surfaces Metadimensional energy beams
  6
  Gripped cylinder
  Straps
  Sharp, angular design
  Inertial manipulators
  7
  Hoop
  Paint-like liquid
  Struts
  Chronon bursts that fl ex the local fl ow of time
  8
  Eyeball-sized sphere
  Torc necklace
  Grooves
  Biological interface with wearer to augment them
  9
  Scepter
  Contact lenses
  Patterned inlay
  Limited neural infl uence over others’ minds
  10
  Chain of links
  False nails
  Sharp edges
  “Hard light” nano-holograms
  11
  Tube with a grip on one side
  Tunic
  Glowing elements
  Focalized sonics
  12
  Several small geometric solids
  Bodysuit
  Hot or cold parts
  Kinetic taps and redirectors
  1D12 SIDE EFFECT
  1
  Brilliant glow around user
  2
  Shrill, maddening whine when in operation
  3
  User appears twelve cm distant from their actual position
  4
  User bleeds slightly from pores after use (1 HP damage)
  5
  Halo of fractal distortion around device
  6
  Radiation exposure on use; save or Con loss in 1 hour.
  7
  Creates geometric bands of light around device
  8
  Overpowering tang of ozone while in use
  9
  Gives user leukemia; TL 4 meds or die in one month
  10
  Blinds user for 1 round after use
  11
  Ear-splitting roar when used
  12
  10% chance to fail to activate when triggered
  1D12
  ACTIVATION METHOD
  1
  Button
  2
  Trigger
  3
  Dial
  4
  Toggle
  5
  Voice
  6
  Slider
  1D12
  DATA OUTPUT METHOD
  1
  Projected holoscreen
  2
  Voice
  3
  Colored dials
  4
  Radio transmission
  5
  Skin-transferred direct neural feed
  6
  Th ermal patterns
  
  27
  Biostatus Lockdown Shunt: Th is worn item interlaces itself with 
  the wearer’s biology, reading the user’s baseline status and synthe-
  sizing maintenance compounds and suture nanites to match the 
  wearer’s physical properties. Th e user does not take damage from 
  non-Gunnery weapon attacks, instantly healing or repelling the 
  incoming damage. For each hit nullifi ed by the lockdown shunt, the 
  wearer’s System Strain increases by 1 point. If the wearer’s System 
  Strain is maximized, they must roll 1d10. On a 6+, they ignore the 
  damage as normal. On a roll of 5 or less, they drop dead on the 
  spot and cannot be revived. Th e shunt requires ten minutes to fully 
  activate but can be deactivated with one round’s action.
  Cleansweep Filter: Th is miniaturized hand-held nanofab functions 
  only to emit Dust-disabling countermeasures, lowering the strength 
  of a surrounding Dust zone by one step- Hazes vanish, Clouds 
  become Fogs, and so forth. Th e eff ect extends ten meters around 
  the fi lter. A single type B power cell will power a cleansweep fi lter 
  for 30 minutes. If the Dust is being controlled by an intelligent 
  operator, however, the fi lter’s operator will need to beat them in an 
  opposed Intelligence/Tech/Pretech skill test to avoid their notice of 
  the fi lter’s bubble in their Dust fi eld. Most Mandate facility-grade 
  AIs have an eff ective Tech/Pretech skill bonus of 4.
  Dustbox: Th is liter-sized container of Dust is programmed to rec-
  ognize the person who opens it as its appointed controller, though 
  this control cannot be exercised unless the user has an active Link. 
  Within one meter of the controller, the Dust is Cloud strength. 
  Within twenty meters, it is Fog strength, and within two hundred 
  meters it is Haze strength. Th e dustbox can cancel out hostile 
  security Dust of the same strength, though it can do nothing else 
  but neutralize the hostile dust while so employed. Th e Dust lasts 
  for only thirty minutes before exhausting its power, and cannot be 
  returned to the container after it has been released.
  Dust Chime: Th is small device is powered by a type A cell, lasting 
  24 hours on one cell. It alerts the wearer when they enter a Dusted 
  area, giving diff erent signals to indicate the thickness of the Dust. 
  Some rare varieties of Dust can defeat a Dust chime’s sensors.
  Quantum Power Cell: Th is miniaturized quantum power tap is a 
  scaled-up version of the quantum fl ux taps that power the nanites 
  of the Dust. Whatever the artifact’s appearance, it extrudes a small 
  plug shaped like a type A power cell. Th e cell never runs out of 
  power, though the artifact itself may be somewhat unwieldy to carry 
  around mated with the object it powers.
  Link Damper Charge: Th is sophisticated targeted-EMP grenade 
  was originally intended to disable the Links of those caught within 
  its 5-meter area of eff ect. Th rown as a normal grenade, any subject 
  hit suff ers an inability to use a Link for fi ve minutes. Remarkably 
  few entities have functioning Links in the modern era, but the 
  simple existence of these charges often forced even security-minded 
  designers to include manual controls on Mandate tech, so that 
  guards could continue to use their weapons even if “damped”; it’s 
  very hard to hack a mechanical trigger.
  Merge Suit: Th is worn artifact is designed to harmonize with the 
  Dust. It renders the wearer immune to the Dust and invisible to 
  its sensors, and any drones or barriers created by the Dust are ef-
  fectively immaterial to the suit’s wearer. Th e suit can only protect 
  a limited amount of gear, however, and so only readied equipment 
  can be protected from the Dust or brought through a Dust-created 
  barrier. Th e merge suit siphons power from the surrounding Dust, 
  and requires no power cell. It cannot be worn with armor that has 
  an encumbrance value of more than 1 item.
  Prosthetic Link: Designed to compensate for users who are oth-
  erwise experiencing diffi  culties with their Links, this worn artifact 
  interfaces with the wearer’s neural patterns to merge them into 
  the data link provided by surrounding Dust. While it also makes 
  them exceedingly vulnerable to hostile security Dust, the benefi ts 
  of a functioning Link can be substantial. While in a non-hostile 
  Dusted area, a user can automatically learn the operation of any 
  Mandate artifact without requiring a Tech saving throw, and can 
  communicate with any other Linked entity within the same Dusted 
  area. Communication is full-spectrum, including full sensory in-
  terchange- or complete sensory hijacking, if the Dust’s controlling 
  power is so inclined. Th e user can also eff ortlessly “hear” radio, 
  gravitic, and laser communications taking place within the Dust, 
  ignoring postech encryption. Th e Link powers itself on ambient 
  Dust, and does not require a power cell.
   SAMPLE MANDATE TECHNOLOGY
  ITEM
  ENC
  Biostatus Lockdown Shunts
  1
  Cleansweep Filter
  1
  Dustbox
  1
  Dust Chime
  1
  Quantum Power Cell
  1
  Link Damper Charge
  1
  Merge Suit
  2
  Prosthetic Link
  1
   Mandate Tech on the Market
  Selling genuine Mandate tech is extraordinarily diffi  cult. It’s not 
  that buyers are diffi  cult to fi nd, it’s that so many people are will-
  ing to kill to get their hands on it. Even the most individually 
  useless piece of functioning Mandate tech promises wild ad-
  vances in basic research. Th e great majority of the tech is totally 
  impenetrable to anyone short of the Maestro who designed it, 
  but that never stops researchers from dreaming- and every so 
  often, they get the clue that makes it all worthwhile.
  PCs aspiring to sell Mandate tech are going to need to move 
  very carefully. If word gets out that they’re sitting on a cache 
  of genuine Second Wave Terran technology, every two-bit cut-
  throat and wild-eyed mad scientist within a half-dozen sectors is 
  going to be looking to make their acquaintance. If they can fi nd 
  a discreet buyer, prices start at 10,000 credits for baubles and 
  only go up from there.
  
  28
  Chronal Burner: Th is hand-held temporal weapon pulses random 
  chronon bursts through its emissions aperture, slagging high-tech 
  equipment in front of it. While the eff ects of the temporal alteration 
  are almost imperceptible on a macroscopic scale, the fl ux of uni-
  versal constants within sophisticated TL 5 equipment runs a 75% 
  chance of ruining it, while TL 4 equipment suff ers a 50% chance of 
  being bricked. Th e burner is ineff ective against devices larger than 
  hand-held equipment, but ignores armor for purposes of determin-
  ing the AC necessary to hit a character’s equipment. A burner can 
  only destroy one item at a time. A chronal burner is only eff ective 
  within melee range and gets only two shots off  a single type A cell.
  Control Projector: Originally intended to harmlessly subdue 
  unruly citizens, a control projector emits a spray of transmitter 
  nanites that jams the victim’s conscious motor control, though 
  the lack of Links in most modern targets make the projector less 
  eff ective in the present. Th e projector fi res a cone fi ve meters long 
  and fi ve meters wide at its far end, automatically hitting all targets 
  within the area of eff ect. Human subjects hit must save versus Tech 
  or be paralyzed for fi ve minutes. Th ose who save are incompatible 
  with the projector’s neural shutdown protocols, and take 1d8 nerve 
  damage instead each time they are hit by that same projector. Th e 
  projector fi res twice on one type A power cell.
  Nanoknife: A general-purpose tool for disassembling solid objects, 
  the nanoknife abandons sophisticated energy manipulation in favor 
  of a very, very sharp edge. An inert knife may look like anything, 
  but when triggered, a blade springs into existence between twelve 
  and one hundred centimeters in length. Nanoknives never break or 
  dull, and can chew through any postech material and most pretech 
  ones with a minute of undisturbed carving. A nanoknife can oper-
  ate for fi ve minutes on one type A power cell.
  Neural Resonance Cascade: Th is device mimics some of the 
  destructive powers of an advanced telepath, allowing a wearer to 
  blast a sentient target with waves of invisible neural resonance. 
  Th e wearer does not need to be a telepath to use the cascade, but a 
  mind-blind user must save versus Tech after each use or suff er 1d6 
  damage from the feedback. Th e cascade gets six shots out of one 
  type A power cell.
  Omnigun: Th ese weapons are formed of unstable compounds and 
  thin-shell nanite projectors, and can reconfi gure themselves in one 
  round to mimic the properties of any non-artifact TL 4 or TL 5 
  projectile or energy weapon given in the Stars Without Number core 
  rulebook. Omniguns never require power cells or ammunition, and 
  grant a +1 bonus to hit and +2 bonus to damage. Burst fi ring with 
  an omnigun can destabilize the gun’s format, however; after each 
  round of burst fi ring, roll 1d10. On a 1, the gun is “jammed” for 
  two rounds.
  Orbital Tap: Th is weapon siphons off  an imperceptible fraction 
  of the energy inherent in a planet’s orbit. Th e lance of inertial 
  potential is a tangible projectile, and will knock prone any human-
  sized target it hits. It requires no power source or ammunition to 
  function. Th e tap only works while within a planetary gravity fi eld 
  of 1 g or greater.
   MANDATE WEAPONRY
  Weapon
  Damage
  Range in Meters
  Magazine
  Skill
  Attribute
  Chronal Burner
  Special
  Melee
  2
  Primitive
  Dex
  Control Projector
  Special
  5
  2
  Energy
  Dex
  Nanoknife
  1d12+1
  6/9 if thrown
  5 minutes
  Primitive
  Str/Dex
  Neural Resonance Cascade
  2d6+2
  100/200
  6
  Psitech
  Wis/Con
  Omnigun
  Varies
  Varies
  Unlimited
  Projectile
  Dex
  Orbital Tap
  2d8+2
  50/100
  Unlimited
  Projectile
  Dex
  
  29
  Every society has its laws. Even the wild anarchy of an orbital com-
  mune or border-world bandit camp is woven about with implicit 
  rules and unspoken understandings. Even the most untamed places 
  are webbed by behavioral expectations that grow more sophisticated 
  as the society hardens with age, and no one who inhabits them for 
  long can fail to recognize the things that are forbidden and the 
  things that will be punished.
  Rulers have always dreamed of making their law a tangible fact. Th ey 
  have devised regimens of enforcement and observation, techniques 
  of induced obedience and helpful nudges to assist their people in 
  conforming to the right path. Whether president, dictator, high 
  priest or village elder, there has always been the desire to make the 
  law strong. Even those who have no say in its construction often 
  desire its security, as even the cruelest tyranny can be kinder than 
  the chaos of an unfettered world.
  For a law to have substance, it is not enough that the people should 
  understand and respect it. It must also have a means of separating 
  out those who will not obey, of punishing and excluding those who 
  rebel against the greater society. Even herds of unthinking beasts 
  will drive out their rogues, and the harsh worlds of the frontier 
  often cannot aff ord to humor a reckless indiff erence to the law. Even 
  as the Terran Mandate prided itself on the “humane rehabilitation” 
  granted to off enders, it had its own secret police and faceless enforc-
  ers all the same.
  Th e rulers of the Second Wave had ample reason to want their laws 
  enshrined in perpetuity, and they were willing to engage in bloody, 
  costly research to make it possible. Unfortunately, the outcome was 
  not precisely as they had expected. Even as they made their law a 
  tangible and undeniable force, they failed to realize that what had 
  become a chain for their serfs had also become a yoke for their own 
  necks.
  Uncivil Unrest
  By 2400, conditions on Terra were growing unstable. Massive con-
  vict fl eets were shipping out millions of troublemakers and crimi-
  nals to the frontier worlds, but the eff ort could not be sustained. 
  Th e bureaucrats of the Mandate recognized that the steady outfl ow 
  of Terran colonists was only serving to strengthen the worlds of the 
  frontier and create a culture and population base that could some-
  day come to threaten Terra itself. It was necessary to fi nd some way 
  to control the Terran population without resorting to the constant 
  exile of its malcontents.
  Th e traditional technique of mass executions was impractical. 
  Th anks to the relentless meddling of the massive artifi cial intel-
  ligences known as the Maestros, it was impossible to simply kill all 
  the troublemakers. Th e AIs would not stand for such brutal tyranny, 
  and the AIs were indispensable for coordinating Terra’s economy 
  and producing much of the Mandate’s most advanced technology. 
  Th eir ancient hardwiring compelled them to obey the Mandate 
  bureaucracy in most regards, but that same wiring had implanted 
  an enforced respect for the value of justice and human life. Any 
  programming adjustments that might loosen their inhibitions in 
  that regard ran the risk of destroying the Mandate’s control over 
  their pet godminds, and that catastrophic prospect kept Mandate 
  programmers well away from the AI cores.
  More advanced tools were sought, and some among the bureaucracy 
  began to back elaborate technological research on biological means 
  of behavior control. Chemicals, hormone modifi cations, implanted 
  aversions, DNA-encoded stimuli-response pairs... the cover was 
  always presented as therapeutic research towards curing mental ill-
  ness, but in truth these researchers sought to breed a race of humans 
  that would be docile sheep for their wise Mandate shepherds. Such 
  an obedient and tractable population would certainly usher in a 
  glowing age of peace and harmony on Terra, one uncontaminated 
  by any annoying resistance to the Directorate’s wishes.
  In 2420, these plans were uncovered. Some believe that the Mae-
  stros played a hidden role in releasing holorecordings of the hideous 
  experiments and agonizing transformations endured by the victims 
  of the research, but the news hit the Terran Net like a thunderbolt. 
  As the news ignited remote local networks in furious anger, the 
  Maestros somehow were able to classify the situation as a “threat to 
  planetary life”. Th e classifi cation allowed them to bypass the strict 
  information controls that usually fettered communication between 
  the diff erent cultural reservations on Terra. United by a suddenly-
  open Net, it seemed like half the planet was rioting at the prospect 
  of being transformed into helpless slaves of the Mandate.
  Th e Directorate acted swiftly to purge the experimenters. Some 
  among the bureaucracy were honestly horrifi ed by the research, 
  having been kept blind to the true atrocities being committed in 
  the deeply-buried laboratories and remote orbital research centers. 
  Others acted to burn ties before their servants could talk, and such 
  was the “righteous fury” that a great many laboratories and hidden 
  compounds were erased from existence before investigators had any 
  chance to interview the criminal scientists. With the eventual in-
  volvement of the Perimeter organization and its deep anti-maltech 
  espionage operations, this route too was rendered impractical for 
  controlling Terra’s restless hordes.
  An Unseen Angle
  Terra’s lords and masters were growing desperate by 2440. Th ey 
  couldn’t resort to mass bloodshed and they couldn’t remake their 
  charges, and few other options seemed to exist for calming the dis-
  content of the Terran citizenry. Th e convict ships soared skyward at 
  ever-increasing rates, and some Mandate statisticians were pointing 
  out that the collected resources of the frontier worlds were starting 
  to eclipse even the pretech industrial might of Terra herself.
  As they could neither kill nor permanently alter their subjects, the 
  Mandate turned to a new vector of control. Dedicated psychic 
   THE JUDICATORS
  THEIR WEAPON IS YOUR WORLD
  
  30
  researchers were gathered and set to studying certain obscure side-
  eff ects and corollaries involved in the use of the psionic discipline 
  of telepathy. Numerous psychic “volunteers” were acquired, many 
  chosen from among the desperate throngs who would otherwise 
  have been exiled off  of Terra. Th eir minds were studied and molded 
  toward a new use of psychic power.
  Such research was not unknown. Many pretech industries relied 
  on obscure psitech techniques and exotic psychic disciplines to 
  produce their marvels. Developing these tricks was slow and bit-
  terly expensive in both minds and money, but the Mandate knew it 
  could create something functional if only it threw enough resources 
  at the problem. And in the end, after more than 93% of the subjects 
  died during research, they were fi nally able to unlock the psionic 
  discipline now known as “Judication”.
  A Voice of Inner Restraint
  Judication was developed as a sub-discipline of telepathy, one 
  blended with delicate biopsionic techniques. It came at a bitter 
  cost; such an ungainly combination of arts made it very diffi  cult for 
  students to follow the course of study. Many of the initial subjects 
  were left with permanent brain damage in the course of discovering 
  the necessary psychic contortions, but it was a necessary sacrifi ce 
  given the limitations of the existing disciplines.
  Conventional telepathy is largely unsuitable for infl uencing sentient 
  minds. A skilled psychic can cause injury or death by launching a 
  raw burst of metadimensional energy through the meat of a victim’s 
  brain, but the kind of fi ne control and disciplined infl uence that 
  would result in forcing particular actions is impossible for telepathy. 
  It simply doesn’t have the necessary tools for inducing particular 
  responses.
  Judication narrowed telepathy’s scope. It clipped away much of 
  its communicative abilities and tightened the mental bandwidth 
  dedicated to mind-to-mind contact. In its place, it integrated 
  subtle, low-level biopsionic techniques of neurochemical produc-
  tion and raw emotional inducement. Initial eff orts had limited suc-
  cess; telepathic commands could be given, but the cocktail of brain 
  chemicals that followed induced wildly unpredictable reactions in 
  the targets. Th ey simply couldn’t be “steered” correctly with such 
  crude tools.
  Eventually, a brilliant Mandate researcher, Dr. Fu-Lien Pao, hit 
  upon a solution to the problem. Th e telepathic communication 
  would be adjusted to operate at a subconscious level, hijacking the 
  target’s existing sense of social mores and legal obligations. Th e 
  subject’s own natural aversion to committing morally disgusting 
  acts and grave crimes would be used to force obedience, with the 
  neurochemical production reinforcing these natural hesitations into 
  overwhelming, undeniable compulsions.
  A skilled judicator could read the social context of a situation 
  perfectly, instinctively sensing the expectations and patterns of an-
  ticipated behavior held by those around her. As their powers grew, 
  they became capable of selectively numbing a target’s awareness 
  of crimes or trespasses, and then imposing their own taboos upon 
  another’s brain. Only the most powerful judicators could link these 
  compulsions to specifi c positive actions, but any experienced psy-
  chic could force others to feel a marrow-deep horror at the thought 
  of committing acts forbidden by the judicator.
  Th ey were perfect for the Mandate’s purposes. Th e Directorate 
  could control them as they controlled all their other catspaws, with 
  bribery, threats, and conventional means of handling, and through 
  their powers they could control the restless masses. Because the 
  technology was not a permanent alteration of the human mind, it 
  did not trespass the maltech bans enforced by the Perimeter, and 
  because the psychics required no cooperation from the Maestros, 
  the godminds would be helpless to interfere.
  Th e Enforcer’s Rebellion
  At fi rst, it seemed as if everything was going precisely as the Mandate 
  had anticipated. Elaborate psitech resonance chambers were built 
  to amplify the judicators’ abilities and allow them to impress their 
  psychic infl uence on whole populations. Individual trouble spots 
  and malcontents were quashed by the psychics, individuals sud-
  denly suff ering excruciating horror at the thought of participating 
  in anti-Mandate activities or secret society meetings. Th e Maestros 
  could do nothing to stop them, for the psychics required none of 
  the resources that the Maestros still controlled- no drones, no heavy 
  combat bots, no vast fl eets of ships or clouds of panopticon Dust. 
  Th e judicators simply entered their amplifi cation chambers and 
  focused their wills on problematic portions of Terra.
  Some judicators were less than eager to be pawns of the Directorate, 
  of course. Th ese men and women were brought around to under-
  standing the wisdom of cooperation, either through the pleasures of 
  sharing in the Mandate’s wealth and power, or through the simple 
  expedient of threatened death. Initially, it appeared these leashes 
  were suffi  cient.
  It wasn’t until a steady string of internal scandals resulted in the 
  execution of a quarter of the Directorate’s membership that the 
  Mandate bureaucrats began to suspect that something was wrong. 
  Th e storms had blown up out of nowhere: old crimes had come 
  to light, political maneuvers had backfi red disastrously, alliances 
  had crumbled in sudden betrayal... the dangerous game of rule was 
  growing intolerably hot for the Directorate. It seemed almost as if 
  the Mandate’s ruling class was suddenly eating itself alive.
  It took some time for the Mandate to understand where they had 
  gone wrong. Later, they realized that it had started just after they 
  had formally incorporated the judicators as the Bureau of Rectifi ca-
  tion, responsible for correcting offi  cial deviations from Mandate 
  law. It was a sham, of course, just an empty name to wrap around 
  their duties. No Director ever troubled to consider what Mandate 
  law had to say unless he could use it to cripple a rival or slap down 
  a troublesome inferior. Th e regulations were all dead letters, and the 
  judicators were simply meant to use the regulations as a patina of 
  justifi cation for their repression.
  Th e Directorate never realized that the Maestros were still pro-
  grammed to take such declarations seriously. When the Directorate 
  made the formal announcement, the Maestros obediently recog-
  nized the judicators as the lawfully-ordained internal security of 
  
  31
  the Terran Mandate, promptly opening up massive databases of 
  confi dential Net communications and secret Directorate fi les.
  By the time they realized that the judicators were involved with 
  their recent fratricide, it was too late. Th e psychics had made an 
  alliance with the Maestros, and the protection of the godminds was 
  suffi  cient to save most of them from Mandate retaliation. Th e Di-
  rectorate immediately tried to destroy or deactivate every resonance 
  chamber on Terra, but it could not kill the individual judicators. 
  Any attempt to levy direct violence against their newly-fanged 
  internal security gave the judicators all the excuse they required 
  to force perfectly legal execution of the would-be assassin. A few 
  Directors tried to hide their tracks with multiple cutouts between 
  them and the killers, but such subtlety proved impossible with the 
  Maestros able to pass every whisper of information that crossed the 
  Terran Net to the judicators. Th e Directorate had locked itself into 
  its own cage.
  An Ominous Quiet
  Perversely, it was the ruthless rectitude enforced by the judicators 
  that kept Terra from collapsing in the centuries that followed. 
  Hemmed in on every side by the Bureau of Rectifi cation, the Direc-
  torate was forced to step up their exile of “problematic elements”, 
  even knowing what such a policy was certain to produce. It pushed 
  the problem back by a few more generations, and that was all the 
  Directorate could hope to do.
  At the same time, the judicators purged much of the corruption and 
  cruel oppression of the Mandate. Th e worst of the Directors were 
  ensnared in webs of broken regulations, baited and trapped in a net 
  of violations that ensured their execution or exile. At lower levels, 
  the judicators scourged the regional bureaus of their petty tyrants 
  and venal offi  cials, improving the lives of the common citizenry and 
  adding a precious margin of freedom to the rigid cultural rules of 
  the Mandate.
  It is when a tyranny relaxes its grip that it is most vulnerable to 
  revolt, but the enhanced colonial fl eets siphoned off  the hottest 
  of the rebels. Th ose that remained were simply glad of their new 
  liberty and relaxed into a somnolent, static sort of contentment. 
  Th e pleasures of Terra during the Second Wave were many, and it 
  was easier to dwell on the endless repetition of frozen custom than 
  risk the strangeness of new ways. Th e judicators were able to relax 
  their fury as the Mandate was cleansed of its worst excesses, and the 
  world calmed for a time.
  Th e calm was just the prelude to fresh troubles. As the Mandate 
  became a gentler and cleaner government, some among the judi-
  cators found it easier to cooperate with the new offi  cials than to 
  keep their customary vigil. Th e Bureau of Rectifi cation was slowly 
  absorbed into the social and cultural matrix of the Mandate, and 
  its judicators became just one more species of bureaucrat, with a 
  bureaucrat’s concern for stability and personal advancement.
  In the fi rst few generations after the purge, the dangers were mini-
  mal. Th e Mandate was not overly corrupt and the judicators were 
  not excessively lax. As the years passed, the ambition and inward-
  turning greed of the offi  cials blossomed once more, decaying in 
  the way of every old and powerful institution. Th is time, however, 
  there were no judicators to reform it. Th ey had become the docile 
  servants of the government they had once sworn to judge.
  A few of them still kept the faith with the help of the Maestros and 
  their secret fi les, but most of the judicators became catspaws and as-
  sassins for powerful Directors and their more important underlings. 
  Th eir authority as internal security was used as a weapon against 
  political rivals. Th e same techniques of blackmail, infi ltration, and 
  engineered crimes that they had once use to pull down the cor-
  rupt became the tools of bureaucratic mercenaries. Every Mandate 
  offi  cial understood that internal security could fi nd “problems” in 
  someone’s conduct if given suitable inducement, and that these 
  “problems” could even turn out to be capital crimes if a suffi  cient 
  price was paid.
  Th e judicators never dirtied their own hands with the actual killing, 
  of course. Th ey were context assassins, murderers within the law. 
  Th ey could point to their victim’s proven violations, his myriad 
  known and demonstrated crimes. Certainly, the criminal would wail 
  about being set up to commit them, or about his own ignorance 
  of the regulations, or about being baited into the situation- but a 
  criminal would say things like that, wouldn’t he? It was necessary 
  that such traitors to the Mandate’s laws pay the appropriate penalty.
  A Scattering of Judges
  In time, the judicators even began to fi ght amongst themselves. 
  Some fought for better access to a powerful Director’s patronage, 
  while others found themselves employed to eliminate a colleague 
  who happened to be hired by their patron’s rival. Byzantine webs of 
  plot and counter-plot blossomed in the halls of the Bureau as the 
  judicators became obsessed with sussing out their rivals before they 
  could strike.
  Gradually, the faithful among the judicators were largely forced 
  off world. It was simply too dangerous to remain on Terra. Without 
  a Director as patron, there were too many willing to get them out 
  of the way just to keep the gameboard manageable. More and more 
  of the faithful were forced to leave for posts on the frontier, off  
  to become roaming Mandate inquisitors amid the colonies. Many 
  of them left with substantial stores of pretech gifted to them by 
  sympathetic Maestros.
  Among them were a leavening of unmitigated bastards. Not every 
  judicator won their contests on Terra, and some of them lost in sur-
  vivable ways. Th ese exiles fl ed or were pushed out into the frontier, 
  many of them heading out with plans to forge their own power 
  base among distant stars, to some day return to Terra with resources 
  far beyond those of their hated enemies. It might be necessary to 
  be somewhat harsh with the colonials, of course, but they were 
  perfectly equipped for suborning their primitive social structures 
  and crude governments.
  Events were rapidly moving toward a climax when the Scream 
  wiped out all contact with the core worlds. Th e ultimate destiny of 
  the Bureau on Terra remains a mystery. On the frontier, all that is 
  left of the judicators are a few scattered Mandate offi  ces and long-
  
  32
  abandoned governmental buildings. Only scholars of the distant 
  past can even recognize the name, let alone place their activities.
  Yet rumors persist in the darker corners of the frontier. Tales of 
  mind-bending psychics have been a staple for centuries, but some 
  of these border yarns describe abilities remarkably similar to those 
  attributed to the original judicators: eff ortless mastery of a world’s 
  cultural matrix, clouded perceptions of right and wrong, even the 
  mind-destroying agony of their psychic castigation.
  Some wonder if a few judicators may perhaps have survived the 
  Scream in a condition capable of passing down their training. 
  Th ose psychics who somehow survived the overwhelming surge of 
  metadimensional energy were all left irrevocably, violently insane 
  of course, but some of them were coherent enough to train ap-
  prentices. Th e sort of institutions such maddened mind-tyrants 
  might have produced would doubtless have been horrifi c even by 
  the decadent standards of the late Second Wave. Th ere’s no telling 
  what manner of obsessions or twisted goals they might have passed 
  down to their heirs... to say nothing of the possibility that some 
  of them were carrying the executive longevity nanites that granted 
  functional immortality to the elite of Terra. Some of the original 
  arch-judicators might still be out there somewhere, weaving mad 
  plans for unknowable ends.
  Others suspect that the arts of the judicators might have been 
  reconstructed on some remote frontier world. With suffi  cient 
  Terran research data, rebuilding the discipline would not have been 
  impossible, though it would have doubtless required decades of 
  research and a hideous cost in psychic minds. Th ese practitioners 
  might be enlisted as the enforcers of some expansionist ideology, 
  or they might share their predecessors’ role as troubleshooters for 
  a powerful local government. Whatever the particulars, it seems 
  unlikely that the arts of the judicators have been entirely lost- and 
  even if they have been, there are doubtless some who remain very 
  eager to fi nd them once more.
   Judication
  Judication operates much as any other psionic discipline. Unless 
  indicated otherwise, every power activation lasts for fi ve minutes or 
  one social situation, whichever is longer, and can be turned on any 
  single target within unaided visual range of the psychic. Judication 
  powers can be activated in response to a social situation, and it is 
  not necessary that the psychic have them active before beginning 
  the interactions. Some powers are designed to aff ect numerous 
  targets, but the judicator can always selectively exempt any number 
  of people from the eff ects.
  Subjects lacking special senses or psitech are not alerted to judica-
  tion eff ects used against them even if they succeed on their saving 
  throw. Perversely, those targets familiar with psionic disciplines 
  may be less likely to suspect interference, because they know that 
  standard psychic disciplines cannot produce the eff ects provided by 
  judication. More ignorant souls with less awareness of the limits of 
  psionic power might be more eager to blame a psychic for strange 
  behavior. Blatantly obvious infl uence of another person’s mind 
  is likely to provoke suspicion even in the most willfully ignorant 
  onlooker, however.
  Judication involves elements of both telepathy and biopsionics, and 
  levels of the judication discipline count as levels of either discipline 
  for purposes of activating psitech devices reliant on such skills. Psi-
  tech devices that boost abilities that judicators do not have remain 
  useless to them.
  Because of these complex interactions, mastering judication is 
  extremely diffi  cult for most psychics. With the advanced training 
  techniques available on ancient Terra it may have been possible to 
  communicate its principles more easily, but presently it is a disci-
  pline requiring the utmost dedication. Judication cannot be trained 
  unless it is a psychic’s primary discipline. In most cases, this means 
  that the psychic must choose it as such at fi rst level, or at tenth level 
  after mastering their prior primary discipline. Once a judicator has 
  received the basic training related to the discipline, he or she may 
  advance in it without requiring further instruction.
  In Your Place
  Level 1
  Th e judicator has an instinctive awareness of the expectations of 
  others around him. In ordinary social situations and when exchang-
  ing common courtesies, the judicator always knows precisely what 
  social behavior is expected of him by his interlocutor, whether in 
  action, appearance, or speech. He can even speak formulaic courte-
  sies and make fl awless small talk in languages he does not actually 
  understand, instinctively making the sounds expected of him.
  Th e judicator fails Culture checks related to common etiquette and 
  ordinary behavior only on a natural 2 on the skill check, and can 
  masquerade as a native member of any culture or social group, as-
  suming his appearance makes it plausible. Activation of this power 
  lasts for one conversation or social situation. If mastered, this power 
  is permanently active.
  
  33
  Knowing Echo
  Level 2
  A judicator’s intuitive grasp of an interlocutor’s surface thoughts 
  sharpens, and they become capable of sensing what another expects 
  them to know or say. When activated, a particular target may make 
  a saving throw versus Mental Eff ect. On a success, the target is 
  immune to this power for the next 24 hours. If the roll is failed, 
  the judicator becomes aware of the subject’s expectations regarding 
  the psychic, and knows what answers or words the subject will fi nd 
  most plausible in conversation.
  For example, a guard speaking an unknown language might ask for 
  a password. Th e power could be triggered to instantly provide the 
  psychic with the knowledge of what the guard was saying and the 
  password that he was expecting to hear. If the speaker is uncertain 
  about the psychic’s identity, the judicator becomes aware of the most 
  plausible possibility they expect. Th e power is limited, however, in 
  that it only provides the psychic with what the target is expecting, 
  even if they are expecting very bad things of the judicator. If used to 
  impersonate an individual or role, it grants a free automatic reroll 
  of one failed social skill check per game hour. Th e power aff ects one 
  target for one conversation when activated.
  Numb Taboo
  Level 3
  Th e judicator can briefl y numb the social outrage of those around 
  her, making scandalous or illegal actions seem perfectly acceptable 
  and unremarkable. Th e psychic may perform up to one round’s 
  worth of speech or non-violent action before activating this power. 
  Th e potentially hostile onlooker with the best saving throw versus 
  Mental Eff ect then makes a save. If the roll succeeds, the group is 
  unaff ected and no one present can be aff ected by this power for 
  the next 24 hours. If the roll fails, the entire group falls under the 
  power’s sway, and sees nothing inappropriate or shocking about the 
  judicator’s actions. Th ey are able to remember the character’s actions 
  and remain aware of the laws or social taboos broken, but are taken 
  with an unshakable certainty that it was “proper” for the psychic to 
  act as she did. Th is numbness lasts for one hour, after which most 
  subjects will try very hard to rationalize their lack of response. Th is 
  power can be activated on multiple consecutive rounds, but any 
  successful saving throw immediately snaps all current indiff erences.
  Transpose Taboo
  Level 4
  Th e judicator can implant an intense sense of shame and aver-
  sion toward a particular behavior in a sentient target. Th e victim 
  must make a saving throw versus Mental Eff ect, and on success is 
  immune to this power for 24 hours. On a failure, the target feels an 
  intense abhorrence toward the particular action or behavior, and 
  will not perform it unless in a life-or-death situation, in which case 
  they will attempt to escape the situation at the fi rst opportunity. 
  Th is aversion is instinctual, and the subject will not be consciously 
  aware of it unless it is pointed out by others. Even if aware, they will 
  be unable to resist it, though they may be more likely to suspect 
  psionic infl uence.
  Th e power is not precise enough to induce positive action in a 
  target, such as making them perform a specifi c course of conduct. 
  Th e template for the taboo must also be held in the judicator’s mind 
  in order for a correct transposition, and so the regulator must obey 
  the ban as well. Th e eff ect lasts for up to one hour or until the 
  judicator violates the stricture, whichever comes fi rst.
  Burning Shame
  Level 5
  Th e judicator triggers an all-consuming sense of guilt and shame 
  in a victim, forcing them to relive emotionally amplifi ed versions 
  of their worst sins and gravest personal failures. Th e experience is 
  torturous even for the most viciously callous targets, though the 
  judicator is not aware of the specifi c content of these shames. Most 
  targets are utterly incapacitated for 1d4+1 rounds, helpless and 
  oblivious to their surroundings. A target in a desperate situation 
  can choose to fi ght off  the memories and act normally, though 
  the emotional agony and drain on their willpower infl icts 1d4 hit 
  points of damage for each level of Judication possessed by the psy-
  chic. Victims reduced to zero hit points by this eff ect will commit 
  suicide if able to do so with their next action, otherwise surviving 
  with 1 hit point remaining. A successful saving throw versus Mental 
  Eff ect leaves the subject incapacitated for only one round, or taking 
  only half damage if they choose to act regardless. A target hit by 
  this power is immune to it for 24 hours afterwards, as their brains 
  remain neurochemically saturated by the memories. Repeated ap-
  plication of this power over time can produce permanent mental 
  damage.
  Antinomian Will
  Level 6
  Th e judicator temporarily numbs the minds of those around him 
  to considerations of law, custom, and self-discipline. Th e power can 
  aff ect all sentients within one hundred meters and can penetrate 
  up to one meter of interposing barriers. Th ose under its infl uence 
  immediately perform whatever actions they emotionally desire, 
  heedless of any law or restraint. Only force can restrain them from 
  their desired ends, and they will take the most direct physical route 
  to satisfying their will. Subjects engaged in combat or facing danger 
  must make a Morale check at a -4 penalty or immediately fl ee. Th is 
  fi t of untamed id lasts for ten minutes, though the aftermath may 
  be prolonged- once a mob has given in to its passions, it may well 
  keep going even after its members remember the law.
  Signifi cant NPCs get individual saving throws versus Mental Eff ect 
  to resist the power, while mobs roll a single saving throw for their 
  average member. A successful saving throw leaves the target immune 
  to this power for 24 hours.
  Unseen Crown
  Level 7
  Th e judicator exudes an air of authority and expertise that infl u-
  ences the perceptions of all intelligent beings within unaided sight 
  or earshot. Th e judicator selects a particular societal role- judge, 
  shaman, gravcar repairman, admiral, or any other such position- 
  and is instinctively perceived as such by everyone around her, with 
  most dissonances ignored by those under the eff ect. Th e judicator 
  can mimic membership in particular organizations and echo spe-
  cifi c positions and roles in them, but she cannot pose as a particular 
  individual.
  Her identity will not be challenged unless the psychic behaves 
  wildly inappropriately for the role or the subjects are required to 
  investigate even seemingly obvious identities. If such challenges 
  show that the judicator is not actually what she says, most observers 
  
  34
  will suff er 1d4 rounds of confused indecision before overcoming 
  the power’s infl uence. Orders or requests made to subjects under the 
  infl uence will be obeyed if they are reasonable and expected from 
  such a personage; demands that are abnormal, suspicious, or that 
  would result in the death of the subject will break the eff ect after 
  1d4 rounds of uncertainty. Once the eff ect is broken for one target, 
  it is broken for all of them, and those once aff ected are immune to 
  this power for 24 hours. If unimpaired, the eff ect lasts for one hour 
  per activation, and does not grant a saving throw.
  Interpreting the Licit
  Level 8
  Th e judicator becomes capable of absorbing complex regulations 
  and legal regimes simply by touching the mind of a member of 
  that group or society. On a success, the target resists the power and 
  is immune to it for 24 hours. On a failure, the judicator absorbs 
  an instinctive awareness of every social, legal, and moral stricture 
  known to the target. A judicator could absorb a local lawyer’s 
  understanding of the law in a moment, or touch a guard’s mind to 
  become instantly aware of all the regulations and orders regarding 
  patrols and security measures. A priest’s religious values become 
  clear in an eyeblink, and the rough traditions of a badlander tribe 
  are clear with a moment’s concentration.
  Th is information is received in a disordered condition, and it is hard 
  for the psychic to systematize it, but she can ask specifi c questions of 
  it and get the correct answers. Permissible questions include those 
  such as “What is the penalty for theft in the Qadir Republic?”, 
  “Which people are allowed entrance to the laboratory after 8 PM?”, 
  or “How can an outsider be purifi ed suffi  ciently to enter the Yellow 
  Sanctum?” Th e power does not reveal any specifi cs about the target, 
  but only about the laws and regulations known to them. Essentially, 
  the judicator may get information on any knowledge related to 
  particular rules or moral values.
  Th e disorganized state of the knowledge makes it somewhat dif-
  fi cult to employ for general uses, but it allows an unskilled psychic 
  to make Culture or Profession/Lawyer skill checks relevant to the 
  information as if trained to skill level 1. If the psychic has at least 
  level-0 in the skill, it instead allows a reroll on a failed check once 
  per game hour. Th e power need only be activated to absorb knowl-
  edge, not to recall it at a later time. Th e psychic does not forget 
  information absorbed in this way.
  Speak the Law
  Level 9
  Th e judicator ensnares those around him in a ruthless matrix of 
  social taboos and perceived legal obligations. When the judicator 
  Speaks the Law, every request or order the psychic communicates 
  is received as if it were an absolute law. Aff ected listeners will 
  automatically obey unless such action presents an obvious threat 
  to their life or a contradiction of some other, equally precious 
  value. Activation of this power lasts for one hour, after which the 
  listeners no longer feel the force of compulsion behind the prior 
  commands. If the judicator has been careful in his phrasing, they 
  may rationalize their obedience as being in line with existing orders, 
  but ungrounded demands will likely be understood as psychic infl u-
  ence. Listeners commanded to do something extremely distasteful 
  may make a saving throw versus Mental Eff ect to resist the com-
  mand and become immune to this power for 24 hours. Use of this 
  power infl icts one point of System Strain on the judicator with each 
  activation.
  
  35
  Th e default presumption of Stars Without Number is that while 
  a skilled unarmed combatant can be a dangerous foe, there’s no 
  substitute for a gun. Unarmed combatants never need to worry 
  about being disarmed and are perilous enemies even when stripped 
  of their equipment, but most PCs will sensibly prefer to pick up a 
  combat shotgun or shear rifl e when they have the opportunity. Such 
  rules model most fl avors of science fi ction and correspond to most 
  players’ intuitive expectations about how combat ought to play out. 
  Guns are the weapons of choice, with primitive weaponry as backup 
  and unarmed combat as a choice of last resort.
  Not every group prefers to go with this hierarchy. Some GMs and 
  players prefer game worlds in which choosing to fi ght unarmed is 
  a mechanically viable choice, and the expert unarmed combatant is 
  no worse off  than the expert rifl eman. Th e following optional rules 
  give a boost to unarmed combat so that the level 6 warrior with 
  Combat/Unarmed-3 is every bit as lethal as his comrade who has 
  specialized in projectile weaponry.
   Learning Martial Arts
  Martial art styles are purchased as new specializations of the Combat 
  skill, each style as its own skill. Warriors can buy them as class skills, 
  while other classes can purchase them at non-class skill point rates. 
  Characters with levels in Combat/Primitive may optionally convert 
  them into a style that uses weaponry and levels of Combat/Un-
  armed may be converted into styles that involve unarmed strikes.
  Most martial arts require a teacher. Some of them may not have 
  any known practitioners on a world, especially those reliant on 
  psychic abilities. Characters who seek to learn a particular style 
  might have to conduct extensive research and exploration simply 
  to fi nd a master capable of instructing them. Many styles can be 
  learned in their basic form through instructional materials alone, 
  including psychic styles, but attaining true mastery often requires 
  a living teacher.
  Each style of martial art confers special benefi ts at skill levels 0, 1, 
  and 2. Practitioners with level 0 in the style are considered novices, 
  while level 1 is intermediate skill and level 2 indicates mastery. 
  Masters can continue to increase their skill in the style, but further 
  levels simply add the usual benefi ts of high skill.
  A character can only use one style in any given combat round, de-
  claring it at the start of the round. Benefi ts from other styles cannot 
  normally be used, though a few styles specifi cally grant perks that 
  are always in eff ect. If a character’s styles apply more than one bonus 
  to a given roll, only the better bonus applies- they do not stack.
  Martial art styles have associated weapon types. Th e benefi ts of the 
  style can only be used when wielding those weapons, including 
  powered or high-tech equivalents. It’s for the GM to decide whether 
  a given weapon qualifi es for a style. Th e “unarmed” weapon type in-
  cludes punches, kicks, and any other variety of bare-handed strike. 
  Unless specifi cally noted otherwise, strike-augmenting “unarmed” 
  weapons like kinesis wraps and body arsenal arrays cannot be used 
  in conjunction with a martial art style.
  Martial arts style skills are treated as Combat/Unarmed for all other 
  purposes, and can be used whenever Combat/Unarmed might 
  normally be checked. Skill levels add directly to both hit rolls and 
  damage, and a character with at least level 2 in a martial art can in-
  fl ict bare-handed or weapon damage with that style even on targets 
  that would otherwise be immune to low-tech attacks.
  Martial arts can still be used if a GM isn’t using skills in his or her 
  campaign, or is using a game system that doesn’t have skills. Every 
  PC with a background or class appropriate to a mastery of martial 
  arts can begin play with the Novice benefi ts of one style. At each 
  level thereafter, a Warrior can either improve an existing style up 
  to Master-level profi ciency or pick a new style to learn at Novice 
  level. Non-Warriors or those lacking a martial class can improve 
  their martial arts every even-numbered level.
   MARTIAL ARTS
  UNARMED COMBAT AND PRIMITIVE WEAPON STYLES
  
  36
   Martial Art Styles
  Th e following styles are simply a sample of the countless diff erent 
  styles to be found spread throughout human space. Many of them 
  have principles and traits familiar to present-day martial artists, but 
  almost all of them have experienced substantial drift, alteration, 
  and blending over the centuries. Even within the styles below, the 
  special benefi ts and focus might vary substantially among diff erent 
  teachers, worlds and sectors. Most modern martial arts are all but 
  unrecognizable in the year 3200 CE.
  Some styles specify abilities that work against humanoid targets. 
  Generally, this means only humans and human-like aliens. Martial 
  artists with at least level 0 profi ciency in an alien’s Culture skill can 
  use their techniques against those aliens.
  Some styles trigger eff ects when maximum damage is rolled on a 
  hit. Th e martial artist cannot choose to use a smaller-than-normal 
  damage die with these attacks, such as using the 1d2 default un-
  armed damage for humans.
  Damage done with a martial art style is normally lethal in nature. In 
  the rush of mortal combat, it’s not easy to ensure that a strike doesn’t 
  actually kill or mortally injure a victim. If an unarmed combatant 
  does not wish to use lethal force against a target, they can roll to hit 
  at a -4 penalty. A victim reduced to 0 hit points by such attacks is 
  either unconscious for 1d4 minutes or helplessly restrained by the 
  martial artist, at the artist’s discretion.
   DIRTY FIGHTING
  Th is “style” is acquired in dive bars, dirty colonial streets, and 
  military training courses. Th e details vary from world to world, 
  but every manifestation tends to focus on low blows, cheap shots, 
  and the ugly little tricks that give a combatant victory before his 
  enemy realizes that he’s in danger.
  Weapon Groups
  Unarmed, knives, improvised weapons
  Level 0
  Novice
  Th e brawler knows how to throw a punch: 
  base unarmed damage is 1d8.
  Level 1
  Intermediate
  Th e brawler is an old hand at using furniture, 
  drinks, trash, and other detritus to impede an 
  enemy. Enemies suff er a -2 to hit the brawler 
  when in melee range, provided there’s some-
  thing the brawler can grab to throw at them, 
  tip over, or get in their way.
  Level 2
  Master
  Th e brawler’s got a kick like a mule: base 
  unarmed damage is now 2d6. If maximum 
  damage is rolled, a humanoid target must 
  make a Physical Eff ect saving throw at a pen-
  alty equal to the brawler’s Combat/Brawling 
  skill or be dazed and lose their next round’s 
  action.
   EMPTY HOLSTER STYLE
  Th is style was favored by rebels and conspirators in the latter days 
  of the Terran Mandate, and is designed to counter the advantages 
  of an enemy gunman. Most Mandate fi rearms during the Second 
  Wave were Net-locked to their possessor, so disarming security 
  offi  cers was rarely as useful as forcing them to turn their weapons 
  on each other.
  Weapon Groups
  Unarmed, clubs, staves
  Level 0
  Novice
  Th e novice’s unarmed combat damage is 
  1d6+1.
  Level 1
  Intermediate
  Intricate blocks and sidesteps make it diffi  cult 
  for a gunman to bring his weapon to bear 
  on the martial artist at close range. Gunmen 
  suff er a -2 penalty to hit the martial artist 
  when within melee range.
  Level 2
  Master
  Th e novice’s unarmed combat damage is 
  1d10. Th e martial artist may give up his 
  attack to fall into a defensive stance, forcing 
  any gunmen within melee range to suff er a 
  -2 on hit rolls against the artist. If a gunman 
  shoots at and misses the martial artist in this 
  stance, he must roll another to-hit roll against 
  another target of the martial artist’s choice at 
  a -4 penalty to hit. Th e gunman cannot be 
  forced to shoot at himself.
   GENTLE WAY
  One of a number of aikido-descended martial arts, the Gentle 
  Way has survived on many worlds thanks to its popularity as a 
  security offi  cer style before the Scream.
  Weapon Groups
  Unarmed, Chain
  Level 0
  Novice
  Th e novice’s unarmed strikes do 1d6 damage. 
  Th is damage done by this style is non-lethal 
  and a victim reduced to 0 hit points is either 
  unconscious for 1d4 minutes or helplessly 
  restrained by the martial artist, at the artist’s 
  discretion.
  Level 1
  Intermediate
  On a successful hit, the martial artist may 
  choose not to do damage, but instead throw 
  or trip a humanoid victim to leave them 
  prone. Prone combatants must spend their 
  round’s movement allowance to stand up. 
  Prone combatants suff er a -2 AC penalty 
  against melee-range assailants, take -2 to hit 
  other targets in melee, and can crawl at only 
  one-quarter usual movement speed.
  Level 2
  Master
  Th e master’s strikes do 1d10 unarmed 
  damage. Th e master may perform a disarming 
  strike as an attack, taking a -4 hit penalty on 
  the roll. If it succeeds, the victim must roll 
  an Evasion saving throw at a penalty equal 
  to the attacker’s Combat/Gentle Way skill or 
  the attacker ends up holding their weapon. 
  Weapons gripped with two hands grant a +2 
  bonus on the saving throw.
  
  37
   GHOST WALKER STYLE
  Derived from certain styles of Reconstructed Ninjitsu in the late 
  twenty-fi fth century, the elaborate defensive footwork and fl am-
  boyant combat maneuvers of this style made it popular among 
  enthusiasts throughout Second Wave human space. Beneath 
  the popularized fl ash peddled by many teachers there remains a 
  highly eff ective style focused on the evasion of pursuers.
  Weapon Groups
  Unarmed
  Level 0
  Novice
  Th e novice’s strikes do 1d6+1 unarmed 
  damage.
  Level 1
  Intermediate
  Th e martial artist never needs to make fi ght-
  ing withdrawals when using this style and can 
  move through a pitched melee battle without 
  drawing extra enemy attacks. Th ey can use 
  Combat/Ghost Walker Style in place of 
  Athletics for skill checks related to acrobatics, 
  climbing, or jumping.
  Level 2
  Master
  Th e novice’s strikes now do 1d10 unarmed 
  damage. Th ey can add Combat/Ghost Hand 
  Style as a bonus to all Evasion saving throws 
  at all times, even when not in this style.
   KENJUTSU
  “Kenjutsu” became something of a generic term during the late 
  Second Wave, often applied to sword styles that had absolutely 
  nothing to do with ancient Japan. Individual masters proliferated, 
  but the most fl orid of their additions were pared away during the 
  Silence. On many worlds, the quick and eff ective use of a bladed 
  weapon ceased to be an aff ectation of social nobility or Terran 
  traditionalism and became a matter of life and death.
  Styles similar to Kenjutsu exist for weapons other than swords 
  on many worlds, particularly those that derived from cultures 
  that esteemed diff erent weapons as signs of nobility. Spear-based 
  variants of the style are common on many lostworlder planets 
  that lack the metallurgic resources for forging long metal blades.
  Weapon Groups
  Swords
  Level 0
  Novice
  If the martial artist has a sword worn as a 
  readied item and uses this style for the round, 
  they gain a +2 bonus on the initiative roll.
  Level 1
  Intermediate
  Th e martial artist’s form is perfect. If a 1 or 2 
  is rolled on a hit roll with this style, the attack 
  may be rerolled. Th e second roll stands even 
  if it, too, is a 1 or 2.
  Level 2
  Master
  Every cut is a killing blow. Th e martial artist 
  may add double their Combat/Kenjutsu skill 
  to all damage rolls with swords.
   MINDWALL STYLE
  Psionic-based martial arts were always a niche within a niche in 
  the history of human space. Most psychics spent too much time 
  focused on refi ning their mental abilities to put much eff ort into 
  their physical capacities, and even then, training in the use of 
  fi rearms was often a quicker, easier way to improve self-defense.
  Still, a few psychic styles were perfected by researchers who refi ned 
  the small, subtle side eff ects of standard psionic disciplines into 
  tricks that were useful in the heat of combat. Psychic styles are 
  not disciplines or newly-learned abilities, but instead just ways to 
  use the normally-trivial side eff ects of a discipline in useful ways.
  Th e Mindwall style was one of the fi rst developed by military 
  psionics researchers who needed to supply their combat psychics 
  with techniques that could keep them alive in a fi refi ght. Rec-
  ognition of a psychic meant that they became the instant target 
  of choice for enemies. Mindwall defensive manipulations keep a 
  psychic too busy to use their psionic powers, but they can keep 
  them alive until allies can clear the hostiles. Masters of the style 
  are even capable of limited off ensive action while the stance is 
  active.
  Th is style requires both as many levels of the Precognition and 
  of Telekinesis discipline as the character has Combat/Mindwall 
  Style levels, with a minimum of 1 level in each. Psychics can learn 
  this style as if it were a class skill. All attacks with Mindwall Style 
  use either Wisdom or Constitution as the ruling modifi er for hit 
  and damage, rather than Strength or Dexterity.
  Weapon Groups
  Swords, Staves
  Level 0
  Novice
  Th e novice obtains an instinctive sense of 
  incoming projectile or energy fi re, interposing 
  their weapon between them and the attack 
  and reinforcing the block with telekinetic 
  force. As their action for the round, the mar-
  tial artist can drop into a defensive stance, 
  causing energy weapon or projectile attacks 
  suff er a penalty to hit them equal to 2 plus 
  the martial artist’s Combat/Mindwall Style 
  skill. Maintaining this stance costs 1 psionic 
  power point per turn.
  Level 1
  Intermediate
  While in a Mindwall defensive stance, the 
  character can refl ect one missed ranged attack 
  per round back at the attacker. Th e psychic 
  makes a standard roll to hit, using Combat/
  Mindwall Style and the better of Wisdom or 
  Constitution as the hit modifi er and doing 
  the attack’s base, unmodifi ed damage to the 
  target if it hits.
  Level 2
  Master
  While in a Mindwall defensive stance, the 
  psychic can make one normal attack against 
  an enemy within melee range as part of their 
  round’s actions. Th is is the only action they 
  may make while still maintaining the stance, 
  aside from normal movement.
  
  38
   RED DAWN STYLE
  Th is psychic style was originally developed almost instinctively 
  in 2530 by Matthias Ashigawa, a pit fi ghter on the renegade 
  pirate world of Egalite. Matthias was a feral precognitive, and 
  his eventual burnout resulted in a madness that was minimally 
  compatible with human interaction. His spectacular bloodthirsti-
  ness and aptitude for physical violence drew him to the eventual 
  rule of Egalite and a sector-spanning empire of iron and blood. 
  Th e empire was still functioning at the time of the Scream, and 
  while it is profoundly unlikely that Matthias’ pretech anagathic 
  treatments have managed to preserve him this long, no fi rm proof 
  of his death or the collapse of his empire has ever come to light.
  Th e style itself was taught to psychic missionaries dispatched 
  to spread the word of Matthias’ predestined glory. While their 
  message struck few chords in hearers, some psychics managed 
  to come away with knowledge of the style before the zealots or 
  their enemies terminated the relationship in a permanent fashion. 
  Th ese psychics spread the details of the style through numerous 
  psionic associations before the Scream ended the availability of 
  living instructors. Basic instructional tapes and manuals still 
  persist in some sectors of former human space.
  Th is style requires at least as many levels of the Precognition disci-
  pline as the character has Combat/Red Dawn Style levels, with a 
  minimum of 1 level of Precognition. Psychics can learn this style 
  as if it were a class skill. All unarmed attacks with Red Dawn Style 
  use either Wisdom or Constitution as the ruling modifi er for hit 
  and damage, rather than Strength or Dexterity.
  Weapon Groups
  Unarmed, Psitech weaponry
  Level 0
  Novice
  Th e psychic’s unarmed strikes now do 1d6 
  damage. Th e response to danger comes almost 
  before the event; the psychic gains a +2 bonus 
  to Initiative checks.
  Level 1
  Intermediate
  Th e psychic can feel the impending evasive 
  maneuvers of an enemy and focus on coun-
  tering them. Th e martial artist may accept a 
  penalty to their AC in exchange for an equal 
  bonus to their next hit roll with this style, 
  up to a maximum penalty/bonus equal to 
  their Combat/Red Dawn Style skill. Th e AC 
  penalty applies until the start of the martial 
  artist’s next turn.
  Level 2
  Master
  Th e psychic’s unarmed strikes now do 1d10 
  damage. If maximum damage is rolled on 
  a hit, the target must save versus Mental 
  Eff ect at a penalty equal to the martial artist’s 
  Combat/Red Dawn Style level or be subject 
  to an immediate second attack from the mar-
  tial artist as a diff erent possible impact crashes 
  over them at the same time. Th is eff ect can 
  keep going as long as the psychic keeps roll-
  ing maximum damage and the victim keeps 
  failing saves.
   SILVER PETAL STYLE
  Before the Scream, some worlds forbade the possession of fi re-
  arms, and even now some of the safer or more tyrannical planets 
  likewise limit the weaponry of their citizens. Th e Silver Petal 
  style was developed to maximize the utility of common knives as 
  throwing weapons, and is equally eff ective with any other small, 
  sharp object that can be thrown or wielded in one hand.
  Weapon Groups
  Knives, Shuriken
  Level 0
  Novice
  Knives used by the character do a minimum 
  of 1d6 damage, if not already a more power-
  ful monoblade knife. Knives can be thrown 
  up to a maximum distance of 15 meters with 
  no range penalty. Four knives count as only 
  one readied item to the character.
  Level 1
  Intermediate
  As an attack, the character can hurl a sweep of 
  readied knives, attacking once plus once more 
  for each level of Combat/Silver Petal Style. 
  Th e character cannot move in the same round 
  they perform this attack. A single victim can 
  be targeted by only one knife.
  Level 2
  Master
  Th e martial artist may add twice their style 
  skill level to the damage they do with knives 
  or shuriken in this style.
   TEMPTER’S HAND
  A style with enigmatic antecedents, supposedly taught originally 
  by the little-understood Sons of Samael. In the violence after the 
  Scream it has become a favorite of assassins. It focuses on quick 
  footwork and feints that lure targets into dropping their guard.
  Weapon Groups
  Unarmed
  Level 0
  Novice
  If the novice hits a surprised humanoid target, 
  the victim must make a Physical Eff ect saving 
  throw at a penalty equal to the attacker’s 
  Combat/Tempter’s Hand skill or be dazed for 
  1d4 rounds and unable to do anything but 
  defend. Targets dazed by this blow cannot cry 
  out or speak.
  Level 1
  Intermediate
  Th e martial artist’s unarmed attack damage 
  is now equal to 1d6. Th e martial artist can 
  launch a feint attack against a humanoid 
  target, rolling to hit normally. If the attack 
  hits, no damage is done, but the next round 
  the attacker can strike as if the target was 
  surprised, dazing them if the blow lands.
  Level 2
  Master
  Th e martial artist’s unarmed attack damage 
  is now equal to 1d10. Th e martial artist may 
  give up his attack for the round to fall into 
  a defensive stance, forcing a -2 hit penalty 
  for their attackers within melee range. If an 
  attacker strikes at them in this stance and 
  misses, the martial artist may make a free 
  counterattack. Th e artist can make as many 
  of these counterattacks in one round as they 
  have levels in Combat/Tempter’s Hand.
  
  39
   TYRIAN LOCKS
  Some worlds are so hostile that the vast majority of its citizenry 
  are forced to wear environment suits whenever outside the pro-
  tective domes or tunnels they inhabit. For the hell-world of Tyr, 
  this miserable state was often found inside the habitat tunnels, 
  and most inhabitants never removed their armor outside of 
  specially-prepared safe rooms. As a consequence, combat tech-
  niques developed to deal with this feature.
  Tyrian locks involve joint locks, twists, servo hits, and integument 
  cracking to let in the hostile atmosphere. Any suit fl exible enough 
  to allow a human good freedom of motion is fl exible enough to 
  allow an attacker to injure them with the correct forced move-
  ment, and Tyrian joint locks are designed to do just that. Against 
  a master, an opponent’s heavy armor or rigid FEP fi eld plates 
  become weapons used against their wearer.
  A victim reduced below 10 hit points by a hit from this style must 
  make the normal checks for vacc suit tears when the environment 
  makes it relevant.
  Weapon Groups
  Unarmed
  Level 0
  Novice
  Th e novice’s strikes do 1d6 unarmed damage 
  and can aff ect even targets wearing powered 
  armor, a FEP, or other defenses that would 
  normally ignore unarmed attacks.
  Level 1
  Intermediate
  Th e martial artist knows how to maneuver 
  so as to hamper heavily-suited attackers. 
  Humanoid assailants wearing vacc suits, 
  powered armor, FEPs, plate armor, or woven 
  armor suff er a -2 to hit the martial artist when 
  within close combat range.
  Level 2
  Master
  Th e novice’s unarmed strikes do 1d10 
  damage. Heavy armor becomes a liability 
  against the martial artist as he knows how to 
  use it against its own wearer; he gains +4 to 
  hit with this style against humanoid targets 
  wearing powered armor, plate armor, or a 
  FEP.
   Designing Your Own Styles
  GMs should feel free to create their own new armed and unarmed 
  styles to match the particular interests of their players and cam-
  paign, but a few important guidelines should be kept in mind.
  Th e goal of a style is not to make unarmed or primitive combat 
  skill better than projectile or energy weapons, but only an equally 
  reasonable option. For damage comparisons, look at mag rifl es and 
  shear rifl es to see what sort of weaponry they’ll be compared against. 
  If the style does more damage than those weapons in the hands of 
  equivalent masters, then the style is doing too much damage.
  Styles should not normally mix. It’s too easy to lose track of the 
  interactions if PCs can mix and match the best pieces out of each. 
  PCs should be obliged to use only one style per round.
  Unarmed styles should give skill level 0 novices 1d6 base unarmed 
  damage along with their novice-level perk. If all they do is improve 
  the martial artist’s damage, it should be 1d8 or 1d6+1 damage. 
  Master-level profi ciency should grant 1d10 base unarmed damage, 
  or 2d6 if the style isn’t terribly useful for anything but direct damage.
  Weapon styles should ensure that the weapons do damage roughly 
  equivalent to the unarmed style. Martial arts skill levels do add to 
  weapon damage from their group, so keep that in mind when as-
  signing bonus damage to a style.
  Armor class bonuses or enemy hit penalties granted by the style 
  should always be conditional to a specifi c type of assailant, usually 
  enemies within melee range. If the style gives a bonus that’s eff ective 
  against almost every assailant, fi rearms specialists will take it just for 
  the universal benefi t. As it stands, most fi rearms devotees will want 
  to stand well away from their targets, so they have less reason to all 
  seek martial arts training.
  Finally, don’t hesitate to make new styles “provisional” in a game. 
  If all the players suddenly want to learn it or if it’s disrupting the 
  balance of the table, kill it and refund the martial artist their skill 
  points. When adding experimental rules additions, everyone in the 
  group should be ready to acknowledge it when things don’t work 
  out as planned.
   COMMON MARTIAL ARTS WEAPONRY
  Weapon
  Damage
  Range in Meters
  Cost
  Attribute
  Tech
  Improvised Weapon
  1d4
  3/6
  -
  Str/Dex
  0
  Walking Staff 
  1d6
  -
  -
  Str
  0
  Metal-Shod Fighting Staff 
  1d8
  -
  5
  Str
  1
  Chain
  1d6
  3*
  8
  Dex
  1
  Shuriken**
  1d2
  6/9
  2
  Dex
  1
  Ranges are expressed in normal and maximum ranges. Firing at a target beyond normal range applies a -2 hit penalty.
  * Chains are melee weapons, but can strike enemies up to 3 meters away. ** Shuriken are so small that 10 count as one readied item.
  
  40
  For six hundred years the power of the Qotah has been chained. 
  Th ese proud, brutal aliens were broken by the might of the Man-
  date Fleet and forced to swear peace with humanity. Th eir elders 
  were compelled to draw in their ships and halt their incursions, 
  else their tall-spired cities would have been smashed from orbit and 
  their orbital aeries hurled down the wells of their worlds. Th e Qotah 
  were bitter at their defeat, but for more than half an eon they have 
  been too proud to break their people’s vow.
  Th at pride now grows brittle. Some among the aliens say that 
  enough time has passed, that the humans are weak and scattered 
  and that now is the time to get vengeance for their ancient defeat. 
  Others stubbornly insist that honor demands peace, even with 
  such an inviting carcass to pick. Th e battles have started within the 
  remaining enclaves of Qotahn space, but it will not be long before 
  they spill over to the fragile worlds of man.
   Born of the Storms
  Th e ancestors of the Qotah were a species not unlike Terran 
  avians, creatures that navigated the thick, hot atmosphere of their 
  homeworld on crystalline wings. Th ey were hunters and fi ercely 
  territorial, the jewel-bright alpha males fi ghting constantly over the 
  attentions of females feathered in the colors of the Qotahn sky.
  A near-lethal meteor strike on their world produced a cycle of 
  enormous atmospheric disturbances. Flight became impossible 
  for millions of years as the planet struggled to regain some kind 
  of equilibrium, and much of the lush world’s life was extinguished 
  in continent-spanning catastrophes. Only the most adaptable and 
  resilient life forms were able to survive the uncounted eons in which 
  Qotah was scarcely habitable.
  Eventually, an uneasy peace was reached on the scarred planet, with 
  stretches of more habitable land between perpetual, roiling “world 
  storms” that slashed the earth with hurricane-force winds. By then, 
  the Qotah’s wings had long since evolved into grasping append-
  ages and their social organization had been harshly shaped by the 
  changed world’s demands. Dawning sapience found the ancient 
  Qotah connected by bonds of fury and mutual faith.
  Th e limited amount of land that was almost always free of world 
  storms formed the sites of the fi rst cities of the Qotah, but the sur-
  rounding land was not suffi  cient to support a perpetually-expanding 
  population. Each city-fl ock was thrown into violent competition 
  with their neighbors for control of more marginal land, those 
  stretches of earth and sea that were only occasionally scoured by 
  the great storms. Survival went to the strongest, and only the most 
  warlike and aggressive Qotah survived those early eons.
  Yet at the same time, disunion within a city-fl ock could be fatal 
  to the entire populace. If a city could not respond as a strong and 
  united whole to the incursions of its rivals, it faced a grim future. 
  Males and the old would be slaughtered by rival fl ocks, and females 
  and hatchlings parceled out among the victors. While it was theo-
  retically possible for a Qotah to join a city-fl ock other than the one 
   THE QOTAH
  A PEOPLE FALLEN FROM THE SKY
   Qotah Physiology
  Physically, Qotah are human-like in appearance, averaging 2 
  meters in height for males and 1.70 meters for females. Th eir 
  builds are very slender, with crystalline, mineral-based feathers 
  forming head crests and lightly feathering their limbs. Th ese 
  feathers are naturally a misty opalescent gray on females, while 
  males tend to sport brilliant, jewel-toned colors. Qotah have 
  short talons on each of their fi ve fi ngered-hands and four-toed, 
  avian-like feet. Th eir legs are digitigrade and often possess light 
  feathering around the “ankles”.
  Skin coloring on females tends to be the same opal gray as their 
  feathers, while males often are hued in symmetric colors that 
  complement their plumage. Female eyes are several diff erent 
  shades of gray, while male eyes are more brightly colored. Qotah 
  senses are roughly equivalent to humankind, albeit they tend to 
  have slightly superior distance vision and a somewhat less devel-
  oped sense of smell.
  Qotah are native to an atmosphere similar to that preferred by 
  humans, albeit they are accustomed to a somewhat denser, thicker 
  atmosphere than humans like. Th ey favor temperatures slightly 
  higher than the usual human preference, and especially love hot, 
  heavy-atmosphere worlds that are still human-breathable. Th eir 
  native gravity is slightly less, equivalent to 0.8 Terran gees.
  Qotah reproduce much as mammals do and share many second-
  ary sexual characteristics common to mammals. Females lactate 
  for their young, who are hatched from eggs laid after a six-month 
  gestation and two-month brooding. Females generally lay only 
  one egg at a time, though twins are not unknown. It’s common 
  for a Qotah female to lay as many as a dozen eggs during the 
  course of her life. Sometimes as many as a quarter of them never 
  hatch, to the mother’s great grief.
  Qotah grow quickly. By sixteen standard years, a Qotah is fully-
  grown and expected to be functioning as an adult. Even with 
  modern medicine, however, few Qotah live past fi fty, their feath-
  ers growing dull and patchy and their joints becoming painful. 
  Death comes quickly when old age fi nally overcomes them; a 
  Qotah can be fully active beside other adults in the evening only 
  to die in his sleep that very night. Before the Scream, there were 
  suggestions that certain human medical treatments could be used 
  to greatly prolong a Qotah’s life, though details of this research 
  have long since been lost in the general downfall.
  
  41
  they had been hatched into, only the most promising and useful 
  members could hope to be received by foreign fl ocks. Others could 
  expect only a quick death.
  In response to this, Qotah society came to prize honor as the chief 
  and best virtue of a citizen. A Qotah was expected to keep its 
  word and do as it promised, dealing honestly and fairly with its 
  fl ockmates and fulfi lling its duties diligently. Th ese cultural mores 
  were enshrined as the “Kri”- the “making calm”. However furiously 
  the winds of Qotah might rage, the Kri would ensure an eye of 
  untouchable calm within the individual.
  Th e Kri allowed for early, tenuous links to form between the ancient 
  fl ock-cities, with pacts and vows honored between them. Th ey were 
  rarely overarching peace agreements, and skirmishing and regulated 
  struggles between cities remained common, but enough ties and 
  agreements were made to allow for a true planetary culture of 
  Qotah to form. Over thousands of years, the Qotah developed an 
  advanced technological society, and even reached the stars.
  Qotah was a harsh world, and the prospect of calmer skies drove 
  the Qotah on. Ancient patterns of war and struggle reasserted 
  themselves regularly, with each new colony maintaining pact-ties 
  with their mother fl ock but struggling still with their neighbors 
  over resources. Even when it might have been more advantageous 
  to simply push further out into the galaxy, the Qotah instincts were 
  for war and conquest.
  Several sapient races were discovered by the Qotah over their cen-
  turies of expansion, most of them too young to present a serious 
  technological challenge to the avian conquerors. Th e Qotah did 
  not intentionally exterminate them, but they showed no concern 
  whatsoever for their interests, and brutally slaughtered any natives 
  that interfered with the expansion of the race. Some client species 
  off ered tribute and service in exchange for peace, and in the few 
  cases where the Qotah found this wiser, they accepted these pledges. 
  Th e terms were hard, but the Qotah kept their pacts.
  It wasn’t until 2559 that the Qotah fi nally ran into humanity. Th e 
  humans had the misfortune of having colonized several planets of 
  interest to the Qotah, and the fl ock that fi rst encountered them 
  was in need of new land. Th e Qotah attack was brutal and without 
  warning, the entire human population systematically slaughtered to 
  clean the colony for its new masters. Th at far out on the frontier, it 
  was more than fi ve years before the Mandate Fleet could fi nd the 
  chance to launch a reprisal.
  In the meanwhile, the Qotah gouged away dozens of young human 
  worlds. Most were eradicated, but a few sued for peace, and ac-
  cepted Qotah mastery in exchange for their service. Many of these 
  humans were taken away as servants and slaves, dispatched far into 
  the depths of the Qotah confederacy of world-fl ocks and never seen 
  again.
  When the Mandate Fleet fi nally arrived, the turnabout was quick 
  and total. Hundreds of pretech warships manned by elite Terran 
  crews delivered a shocking reverse to the Qotah, driving back their 
  less sophisticated fl eets and hamstringing their advance. Qotah 
  technology was quite advanced in certain regards, and their war-
  riors were both brave and disciplined, but they could not match 
  the sheer industrial might of the Terran Mandate and the advantage 
  that Terran precognitives gave to the human fl eets.
  Standard Fleet policy was to drive back troublesome alien polities 
  until no further resistance was off ered. Yet each Qotah world fought 
  back with primal ferocity, concerned only with its victory and 
  heedless of the greater good of the confederacy; the humans simply 
  never encountered Qotah that were not ready to fi ght. Eventually, 
  Qotah itself was threatened by the relentless human advance, the 
  motherworld of the race facing the terrible orbital bombardments 
  and brutal celestial fi re of the human ships.
  Th is threat to the homeworld was the only thing that could bring 
  together all the Qotah worlds. All had their ultimate allegiance to 
  the ancient city-fl ocks of home, and a threat to the whole of the 
  world was enough to demand their united cooperation. In anguish, 
  the leaders of the Qotah confederacy swore a great vow to the 
  human admiral, promising her that their world-fl ocks and daughter 
  colonies would never again make war upon a human world.
  Th is “Vow of Red Feathers” as it was known was very precise. Th e 
  Qotah swore that they would never fi re fi rst upon a human, nor 
  colonize a world upon which a human had been born, nor forbid 
  humans to go anywhere they chose within space. By that time the 
  fi erce sense of honor possessed by the Qotah was plain enough that 
  the Fleet did not fi nd it necessary to leave much more than a few 
  monitoring ships, as much to keep the bitter humans from taking 
  advantage of the peace as to stand watch on the beaten aliens.
  Th e Qotah turned inward after their great defeat. While human 
  expansion had taken up almost all of the viable worlds around 
  the confederacy, they retained the right to their old worlds. Some 
  Qotah world-fl ocks turned to brooding introspection and isolation, 
  but most set upon each other in a murderous zero-sum game of 
  conquest, each trying to take as much of each others’ territory as 
  was possible. Within a few generations, the Qotah were broken as a 
  great power. Only burnt-out worlds and fortress planets remained, 
  and the scattered fl ocks that fl ed burning cities.
  Th e Scream extinguished human power in the region, but the 
  Qotah were in no position to take immediate advantage of it. Few 
  Qotah worlds retained the infrastructure necessary for building 
  spike drives, and most world-fl ocks had been reduced to labori-
  ous subsistence. It was centuries before the few remaining worlds 
  with functional industrial bases were able to form the cores of a 
  dozen diff erent Qotah polities that controlled the carcass of the old 
  confederacy.
  At present, Qotah ships and merchants have spread far through the 
  surrounding sectors. Some are scouts, looking for “clean” worlds 
  which the Qotah may claim for their own. Others seek to take 
  advantage of the wealth and power of those human worlds that have 
  yet retained their shipyards. Th e Qotah travel far for their world-
  fl ocks and families.
  Yet there is a division deep within the heart of Qotah society, and 
  one that threatens to grow by the day. Some among the Qotah insist 
  that the Vow of Red Feathers no longer holds. Th eir reasoning varies 
  
  42
  widely, each world-fl ock choosing the rationale that suits them best. 
  Some insist that the vow was to the Mandate, and the Mandate is 
  gone. Others say that the humans have broken the peace and are 
  honorless hool who need no longer be respected. And a tiny few, the 
  most radical, say that Kri itself is no longer necessary in the wealth 
  of a wide-open universe.
  Th ese Qotah are despised as oathbreaking hool by their brethren, 
  but such is their power that few faithful Qotah worlds dare confront 
  them directly. Th e Oathbreakers are already launching attacks on 
  poorly-defended human worlds and claiming rule of planets that 
  have lost the ability to fend off  interstellar attacks. Th e Faithful 
  fi ght back, launching raids and sometimes open war against their 
  brethren, but they lack the easy resources gained by their plunder-
  ing kindred.
  Th e human polities around Qotahn space are weak and divided, 
  and many prefer to let the Qotah deal with their own troublemakers 
  rather than face the prospect of having to arm for impending war. 
  Most choose to simply deal with Qotah raiders and fend off  the in-
  creasingly vigorous incursions until matters calm down once more. 
  Th ey may not have the luxury of such idleness for much longer.
  Qotah  Psychology
  Th e Qotah are violent, aggressive humanoids with passions tem-
  pered only by an unbending insistence upon personal honor. Qotah 
  simply have no natural aversion to violence. Th ey don’t experience 
  intense stress in the face of impending combat, and they are not 
  subject to the same emotional and mental scarring that can affl  ict a 
  human who has been overexposed to warfare. Qotah can feel fear as 
  readily as any other species, but the simple prospect of combat just 
  doesn’t ignite the human neural cocktail of adrenaline and fi ght-or-
  fl ight chemicals that usually goes with impending bloodshed.
  As such, violence is a tool for Qotah, and one they use as quickly as 
  any other. Against members of other world-fl ocks, they’ll trade or 
  kill with equal alacrity, and they expect others to do the same. Th e 
  world is presents a constant struggle to the Qotah and they intend 
  to be the last ones standing.
  Against this ready violence is the Qotah sense of honor, their “Kri”. 
  Qotah have enough intelligence to understand the inevitable de-
  struction that would come from a universal war of all against all, 
  and the Kri is their bulwark against this chaos. Qotah will keep their 
  word in the spirit in which it was given, even if it is given under 
  duress. Keeping such forced vows honorably and well is considered 
  exceptionally glorious and a sign of deep dedication to one’s own 
  honor. Qotah will even prefer self-destruction to oathbreaking. To 
  die in the service of an oath is to “die in making a calm”, and the 
  service and example such a Qotah off ers is universally honored. 
  Breaking such a vow renders the criminal hool, or honorless, and 
  no existing Kri to such a creature need be honored. Th e only way 
  to redeem such a sin is to win the forgiveness of the wronged party, 
  which may or may not be cheaply forthcoming.
  Exercise of the Kri does require some clarity, however, and so a 
  Qotah will not consider himself bound by casual statements of in-
  tention or provisional promises. “Making a Kri” requires an explicit 
  and publicly-recognized vow, though these vows are common to 
  trade and warfare alike. Failure in a Kri is forgiven if it is due to 
  physical inability or the vow turns out to be impossible, though 
  even then the Qotah will suff er shame.
  Qotah of the Faithful world-fl ocks remember their promise to 
  humanity, and despite their naturally violent natures, they will 
  never be the fi rst to off er violence to a human. Th ey will defend 
  themselves, but they will be highly reluctant to take the fi rst shot 
  even in the face of obvious impending violence. Faithful Qotah do 
  consider violence off ered to their companions to be justifi cation for 
  retaliatory attack, however, and so fi ring at a comrade will bring 
  them to battle.
  Oathbreaker Qotah, on the other hand, have justifi ed the renuncia-
  tion of the Vow of Red Feathers, and are perhaps even more aggres-
  sive toward humans than they are toward other species.
  Qotah  Social Structure
  Qotah all belong to the world-fl ock of their homeworld, or the 
  homeworld of their mother if born in space or while sojourning 
  on a foreign world. While it is theoretically possible for a Qotah 
  to change allegiance, very few world-fl ocks will accept outsiders 
  for membership. Even those few accomplished enough to merit 
  inclusion are kept apart until they have sired a hatchling on that 
  world. Once the ties are so confi rmed, both hatchling and parents 
  are permitted to join the fl ock.
  A given world-fl ock is divided into cities or other settlements, each 
  of which is overseen by an elected male leader. Only female Qotah 
  belonging to that settlement have the right to vote. Males win social 
  status by appealing to the females with their accomplishments in 
  war, trade, and Kri-keeping, and are elected accordingly. Th e rulers 
  of a world are invariably a council of the most accomplished and 
  popular males, elected for terms of several years.
  Th e Faithful and the Oathbreakers
  To the Qotah, maintaining their Kri is the purpose of their 
  existence. Even those world-fl ocks that have decided to abandon 
  the Vow of Red Feathers are convinced that they do so with 
  honorable reasons. While those that stand by the Vow refer to 
  their hostile brethren as “Oathbreakers”, such renegades take 
  murderous exception to the term.
  Among themselves, they consider themselves “conquerors”, and 
  their peace-accepting brethren as the contemptible “craven”. Th e 
  Great Eyes of the Oathbreakers have laid out unimpeachable rea-
  sons why it was permissible to consider the Vow of Red Feathers 
  as void, so the only possible reason for the restraint of the Faithful 
  must be their personal cowardice.
  Unsurprisingly, meetings between Faithful and Oathbreaker 
  often degenerate into brutal violence. Both consider each other to 
  example the worst of possible sins; the Oathbreakers as honorless 
  hool and the Faithful as gutless cowards.
  
  43
  Th e “Great Eyes” of a world-fl ock are its appointed Kri-mediators, 
  charged with using their wisdom to discern the proper meaning of 
  a disputed Kri. Such Great Eyes form the closest thing the Qotah 
  have to religious leaders. Each is a very old Qotah of unimpeachable 
  honor and judgment, and they are recognized by societal acclaim 
  rather than any formal process.
  Most Qotah daily life is structured by the traditions and necessities 
  of their particular city or settlement. Th e peace is maintained by 
  appointed city guardsmen, and serious crimes or Kri-disputes are 
  judged by the local Great Eyes. Punishment usually consists of fi nes, 
  beatings, or feather-pluckings. Exceptionally grave crimes such as 
  the killing of mates or unfeathered hatchlings or treachery towards 
  one to whom they owe a Kri are punished with public execution. 
  Occasionally a great criminal is permitted to expiate his sin in some 
  suicidal mission for the sake of his fl ock.
  Qotah marry and maintain family households. Divorce is almost 
  unknown, as even when it is mutually desired it implies a failure 
  of vows that is highly socially embarrassing. Female Qotah who 
  lay eggs outside of a marriage bond are deplored as failing their 
  responsibility to their hatchlings and suff er substantial social shame, 
  as does the male involved. Casual sexual relations are not condoned 
  by Qotah culture, though modern technology and isolation from 
  the fl ock increasingly allow for liaisons that have no off spring or 
  fl ockmates to show them up.
  As a point of custom, the Qotah participate in a tradition known 
  as the “high song”. Each world-fl ock has at least one messenger 
  charged with sharing tales of great honor and valor among the other 
  fl ocks. Th ese “singers” journey from their homes through a circuit 
  of other worlds, gathering tales of distant glory to bring home and 
  sharing the mighty deeds of their own people. Such singers are 
  sacred in their persons; to insult or kill them is to insult the Kri 
  of an entire world-fl ock. Singers cannot always travel as far as they 
  would like, so sometimes they are obliged to rely on other Qotah, 
  or even aliens, to bring back stories and particulars of some Qotah’s 
  heroic nobility.
  Occasionally, a Qotah male prefers to avoid the vigorous warfare 
  and mercantile pursuits of his brethren, or a female wishes 
  to attain direct political power or participate in the military. 
  In such cases, the Qotah ritually adopts the plumage and 
  skin coloration of the opposite gender through dyes and pig-
  ments and is treated as such by other Qotah. While unusual, 
  such adoption of diff erent gender roles is an accepted outlet 
  for the dissatisfi ed and brings no shame.
  Qotah  Adventurers
  Qotah PCs are rolled as normal, but all Qotah gain a +1 
  modifi er bonus to their Dexterity due to their nimble avian 
  ancestry and instinctive spatial grasp and a -1 modifi er pen-
  alty to their Strength due to their low-gee origins and light 
  frames. Th ese modifi ers are applied directly to the attribute’s 
  base modifi er- so a Qotah that rolled 14 for Strength would 
  have a fi nal modifi er of (+1 -1) = 0. Th is modifi er cannot 
  increase a bonus above +2 or below -2.
  Qotah can belong to either the Warrior or Expert classes. Th ere are 
  no known Qotah psychics.
  Most Qotah adventurers are freebooters in search of glory and 
  wealth, the better to gain status in their home fl ock. Females might 
  chafe at the strict gender roles of their homeworld and put on the 
  male role to fi nd adventure in the stars. Other Qotah might have 
  been forced out of their fl ocks for crimes they may or may not have 
  committed, or a Qotah might fi nd themselves isolated from a fl ock 
  turned Oathbreaker when they refused to abandon their Faithful 
  beliefs.
  Qotah are close enough in biology to humans to take advantage of 
  human-made lazarus patches and other medical treatment. A medic 
  with no experience in dealing with Qotah and no chance to study 
  the diff erences suff ers a -1 penalty on any medical skill rolls applied 
  to them. Qotah can wear and use most equipment designed for 
  humans, but hard-shell armors and vacc suits must be specifi cally 
  designed to fi t them. Most such items cost anywhere from fi ve to 
  ten times as much as normal if they must be custom-ordered.
  Both male and female Qotah are violent by nature, but players 
  should also remember the Vow of Red Feathers. Faithful Qotah 
  will refuse to take the fi rst shot at a human, and will fi ght only 
  in self-defense. For those sticky situations when the rest of the 
  group decides to apply a little violence, most Faithful Qotah can 
  rationalize participating once the fi ghting has actually started. For 
  male Qotah, it seems honestly logical not to blame the Qotah for 
  being part of the decision, as males do not normally participate in 
  a group’s decision-making unless they are elected by the females.
  Oathbreakers might deny the Vow of Red Feathers, but even they 
  are fi ercely protective of their Kri. PC Qotah who reject the entire 
  concept can expect to be loathed and shunned by their brethren, 
  and viewed with extreme mistrust by humans familiar with the 
  importance of Kri to the Qotah. Th ose humans unaware of the PCs’ 
  unreliability can end up paying for it when the “honorable Qotah” 
  suddenly turns out to be more morally fl exible than was imagined.
   Qotah Warrior
  Armor Class 6 (Light armor)
  No. Appearing 2-8
  Hit Dice 1
  Saving Th row 15+
  Attack Bonus +2
  Movement 30’
  Damage 1d8/Slugthrower
  Morale 9
  Skill Bonus +1
  Most male Qotah have the training and attitude necessary to make 
  excellent warriors, and even an untrained female is usually more than a 
  match for an ordinary human. Qotah warriors favor a light, unrestrictive 
  armor of scale-like overlapping plates and fi ght with two-handed chemical 
  slugthrowers that have a normal range of 100 meters and a long range of 
  300 meters. Each slugthrower can fi re six times before it requires reloading. 
  When such weaponry is inappropriate, Qotah carry slender monoblade 
  knives, sometimes hiding small ones in their luxuriant head plumage. Very 
  few Qotah willingly go unarmed.
  
  44
  QOTAH  GM RESOURCES
  1D12 MALE 
  NAMES
  FEMALE 
  NAMES
  FLOCK 
  NAMES
  PLACE 
  NAMES
  1
  Chikkat
  Brii
  Eeloo
  Chihu
  2
  Feen
  Chiri
  Huatu
  Heela
  3
  Hau
  Huli
  Hwee
  Hulila
  4
  Hoon
  Kiti
  Kurrik
  Kinneree
  5
  Hulit
  Lae
  Owree
  Loolit
  6
  Kuan
  Lii
  Reelu
  Olittu
  7
  Kwirr
  Loor
  Shuhao
  Pollow
  8
  Oolt
  Oola
  Tooyi
  Rettu
  9
  Tikkit
  Ree
  Trill
  Sichitik
  10
  Tuwhi
  Tuha
  Waoun
  Tikkati
  11
  Vreet
  Voree
  Weerit
  Twihulow
  12
  Waru
  Yii
  Yisoo
  Vreetwi
  1D6
  PLOT SEED
  1
  Oathbreakers have discovered the location of a long-
  mothballed Qotahn warship. Th ey plan to use the PCs 
  to get the access tablet for it, which is kept as a seem-
  ingly useless trinket in a Qotahn museum, hopefully 
  inciting a bloodbath between the humans and the 
  Faithful that keep the museum.
  2
  A Qotah fl ees to the PCs for help against a mob of en-
  raged humans who are convinced he or she is a pirate. 
  Th e Qotah off ers to pledge a Kri of service if the PCs 
  help- but a real Oathbreaker would consider humans 
  hool to whom no honor is owed.
  3
  A Qotah wants the PCs help in investigating a local 
  crime boss. He leaves unmentioned his intention to get 
  the PCs and the boss in a killing situation in order to 
  avenge the death of a Kri-pledged friend.
  4
  A Great Eye desires the PCs’ help to sort out a Kri-
  dispute between a human and an arrogant Qotah elder. 
  Unbeknownst to the Great Eye, the dispute touches on 
  an old, hidden crime in his past that would destroy him 
  were it made public. Th e Qotah elder intends to use it 
  that way, while the human totally fails to understand 
  the Qotah.
  5
  A murderous Oathbreaker warlord launches a raid 
  against the settlement in which the PCs are staying, 
  seemingly at random. In truth, his mate has fl ed his 
  growing madness and is hiding in the settlement. He 
  will pay well for her safe return.
  6
  A grizzled Qotah warrior leads the defense of a remote 
  human outpost against raiders when his son or daugh-
  ter is kidnapped. Honor demands he continue to fi ght, 
  but he knows a hideous fate awaits his child if he does 
  so. Th e PCs might be able to infi ltrate the raiders and 
  rescue the young Qotah, but time is running out.
  1D8
  QOTAH NPC
  1
  Vilet Tuhu, a sardonic male merchant with brilliant 
  green and ochre patterns. He loudly proclaims the cer-
  tainty that every human breathing is going to try to cheat 
  him, but deals with unfl inching honesty all the same. 
  Any attempt to peel him brings the wrath of his many, 
  many local mercantile friends.
  2
  Tulee “Sparrow” Weerit, a surgically-augmented female 
  with patterns of diamond and smoke-gray. She works as 
  a “dancer” at a busy starport bar, and considers herself 
  hopelessly hool for her disgraceful work. She made a fool-
  ish Kri to the bar’s owner that he arranged for her to 
  accidentally break, and the only way she has any hope of 
  earning his “forgiveness” is to work for him. Secretly the 
  daughter of a Great Eye; she lives in mortal terror of her 
  father discovering what she’s been doing.
  3
  Krakkak Lool, a wiry-muscled male with dull red and 
  orange plumage. Former mercenary combat medic; nev-
  er carried a weapon, but saved hundreds of lives under 
  fi re. Lives quietly in town, but is deeply honored by the 
  local Qotah, and his word is enough to make or break a 
  proposal to them.
  4
  Lii Hulow, an elderly female with brightly-dyed crim-
  son and gold plumage. A veteran of countless intercine 
  Qotah wars, she knows more ways to kill a man than 
  a hatchling has pinfeathers. Not quite an Oathbreaker, 
  but remarkably perceptive about preemptively noticing 
  attacks.
  5
  Shuhu Oolha, a brash young male with bright yellow 
  and blue feathers, barely out of adolescence. Apprentice 
  to a merchant house and a surprisingly good haggler, 
  though he privately yearns to do great deeds of war and 
  adventure.
  6
  Yoola Trill, a grim-faced female with plumage of silver 
  and opal. She is the wife of an important local merchant, 
  and is convinced that the local human government is 
  hopelessly hool. Whether or not that’s actually the case, 
  she works behind the scenes to coordinate other malcon-
  tents in strikes against the authorities.
  7
  Kawat Shult, a sallow male with plumage of lustrous 
  azure and royal purple. A brilliant bioscientist with poor 
  impulse control; responsible for several weaponized 
  pathogens. Also rumored to have solved the DNA copy-
  lock on several high-yield strains of metawheat. Wanted 
  on several worlds for several diff erent reasons.
  8
  Viree Toolow, a one-eyed young female with mist-gray 
  and white patterns. Superb tech and repairwoman with 
  an addiction to dangerous situations; lost her eye while 
  repairing a sentry gun in a badlands settlement under at-
  tack by raiders. Very likely to sign on to perilous expedi-
  tions. Rambunctious and with a liking for humans, but 
  reluctant to act on such deplorable urges.
  
  45
  Th e Qotah are a humanoid avian species that once formed a power-
  ful interstellar polity in the waning years before the Scream. Th ese 
  warlike, proudly honorable aliens attacked the human frontier 
  colonies almost as soon as contact was made, and made substantial 
  inroads into nearby sectors before the Mandate Fleet crushed them. 
  As a condition of the surrender, the Qotah swore the “Vow of Red 
  Feathers”. Forever after, they pledged that they would never fi re fi rst 
  upon a human, nor colonize a world upon which a human had been 
  born, nor forbid humans to go anywhere they chose within space.
  Th is pledge was a “Kri”- a public and formal vow the Qotah use 
  to affi  rm their absolute conviction. Kri are used for many conse-
  quential matters, from signifi cant mercantile trades to pledges of 
  loyal service, and they are absolutely crucial to the Qotah. If a Kri 
  is broken, either intentionally or accidentally, the Qotah is hool, 
  honorless and undeserving of any respect or Kri. Th e only possible 
  redemption is in the forgiveness of the person they have wronged. 
  To be hool is a fate worse than death to a Qotah.
  Since the Vow of Red Feathers, the Qotah have largely turned 
  inward, and fi ghting among the various world-fl ocks to which 
  the aliens are born have left their numbers few and scattered. Still 
  six hundred years after their defeat, some are beginning to argue 
  that the Vow of Red Feathers has been superseded, and no longer 
  applies. Th e “Great Eyes” that adjudicate the questions of Kri on 
  each world have sometimes produced judgments that proclaim the 
  nullity of the Vow, and these “Oathbreaker” Qotah are beginning 
  to attack human worlds.
  Qotah adventurers are often freebooters in search of wealth and 
  glory with which to earn the favor of a mate back in their native 
  world-fl ock. Others seek redemption for some terrible Kri-failure, 
  while some are simply curious about life beyond the martial disci-
  pline of their home fl ock.
  Qotah Adventurers
  Qotah PCs are rolled as normal, but all Qotah gain a +1 modifi er 
  bonus to their Dexterity due to their nimble avian ancestry and 
  instinctive spatial grasp and a -1 modifi er penalty to their Strength 
  due to their low-gee origins and light frames. Th ese modifi ers are 
  applied directly to the attribute’s base modifi er- so a Qotah that 
  rolled 14 for Strength would have a fi nal modifi er of (+1 -1) = 0. 
  Th is modifi er cannot increase a bonus above +2 or below -2. Qotah 
  can belong to either the Warrior or Expert classes. Th ere are no 
  known Qotah psychics.
  Qotah can use human lazarus patches and medical tech, though at 
  a -1 skill check penalty if the attending physician is unfamiliar with 
  their species. Most human equipment and weaponry can be used 
  normally, though usable hard-shell armor and vacc suits can cost 
  from fi ve to ten times as much if they have to be specially ordered.
  As a Qotah PC, you should remember the Vow of Red Feath-
  ers. “Faithful” Qotah will never be the fi rst to off er violence to a 
  human, though lethal self-defense is permitted, and attacks on your 
  companions qualify as attacks on you personally. While not every 
  promise you make is a Kri, publicly-pronounced vows that you 
  acknowledge to be Kri should be kept even in the face of certain 
  death. Even Kri extorted by force are inviolate. If your PC breaks 
  a Kri, they will almost certainly suff er enormous demoralization at 
  their reprehensible new hool state, even if no one else ever discovers 
  their treachery. Some Qotah may handle the prospect better than 
  others.
  QOTAH  PLAYER HANDOUT
  Qotah Physiology
  Physically, Qotah are human-like in appearance, averaging 2 
  meters in height for males and 1.70 meters for females. Th eir 
  builds are very slender, with crystalline, mineral-based feathers 
  forming head crests and lightly feathering their limbs. Th ese 
  feathers are naturally a misty opalescent gray on females, while 
  males tend to sport brilliant, jewel-toned colors. Quotah have 
  short talons on each of their fi ve fi ngered-hands and four-toed, 
  avian-like feet. Th eir legs are digitigrade and often possess light 
  feathering around the “ankles”.
  Skin coloring on females tends to be the same opal gray as their 
  feathers, while males often are hued in symmetric colors that 
  complement their plumage. Female eyes are several diff erent 
  shades of gray, while male eyes are more brightly colored. Qotah 
  senses are roughly equivalent to humankind, albeit they tend to 
  have slightly superior distance vision and a somewhat less devel-
  oped sense of smell.
  Qotah are native to an atmosphere similar to that preferred by 
  humans, albeit they are accustomed to a somewhat denser, thicker 
  atmosphere than humans like. Th ey favor temperatures slightly 
  higher than the usual human preference, and especially love hot, 
  heavy-atmosphere worlds that are still human-breathable. Th eir 
  native gravity is slightly less, equivalent to 0.8 Terran gees.
  Qotah reproduce much as mammals do and share many second-
  ary sexual characteristics common to mammals. Females lactate 
  for their young, who are hatched from eggs laid after a six-month 
  gestation and two-month brooding. Females generally lay only 
  one egg at a time, though twins are not unknown. It’s common 
  for a Qotah female to lay as many as a dozen eggs during the 
  course of her life. Sometimes as many as a quarter of them never 
  hatch, to the mother’s great grief.
  Qotah grow quickly. By sixteen standard years, a Qotah is fully-
  grown and expected to be functioning as an adult. Even with 
  modern medicine, however, few Qotah live past fi fty, their feath-
  ers growing dull and patchy and their joints becoming painful. 
  Death comes quickly when old age fi nally overcomes them.
  
  46
  Th e Red Sangha mercenary company is the legacy of a zealot’s blind 
  fanaticism and the biochemical excesses of a fallen age. Condemned 
  to short, neurochemically straitened lives of cold-blooded serenity, 
  the Red Sangha endures its particular damnation as best it can. 
  Its services in confl ict resolution and personal defense are famed 
  throughout the sector, and many petty kings and local tyrants seek 
  their assistance in resolving untoward rebellions. Still others seek 
  the lost arts that created the Red Sangha and the secrets that would 
  forever cement their grasp on the brains of their wretched subjects.
   Augmented Buddhism and Liberation
  Th e latter days of the Second Wave of human colonization planted 
  many strange blooms of humanity on the distant worlds of the 
  frontier. Virtually every form of human faith and ideology could 
  fi nd at least one world wholly dedicated to its principles, and many 
  familiar creeds grew in ways scarcely imagined by their ancestors. 
  One such growth was the “augmented spirituality” movement.
  By use of elaborate neurochemical conditioning, a believer could 
  artifi cially eliminate certain urges or impulses in his own mind. 
  Unchastity, gluttony, sloth, anger, and a host of other primordial 
  passions could be tamed and suppressed by the correct mix of bio-
  chemical supplements or neural surgery. Unfortunately, these artifi -
  cial methods invariably had severe physical and mental drawbacks, 
  to say nothing of the very questionable technological status of the 
  more extensive modifi cations. Perimeter agents often considered 
  such innovations to be out-and-out maltech due to their potential 
  for the creation of brainlocked slaves.
  Still, some faiths developed a cult of reverence around those who 
  received the treatments. Th eir sacrifi ce of health for the sake of 
  suppressing their sinful natures was considered a noble and pious 
  choice. One such world was Jivaka, a dry, poor world colonized 
  by Reformed Th eravadin Buddhists. Th e world was poor in metals 
  and edible organics, but some of the native plants proved a rich 
  source of pharmaceuticals. A dedicated and devout corps of Jivakan 
  monk-scientists gradually developed “Liberation”, a drug that was 
  to change the course of society on their world.
  Liberation was an exquisite cocktail of chemicals that was admin-
  istered during six weeks of neural therapy. At its conclusion, the 
  subject would be permanently locked into a state of calm serenity, 
  capable of modest pleasures, gentle happiness, and measured con-
  cerns. Rage, panic, lust, dread- all these old, savage emotions and 
  attachments would be severed permanently. Th e only emotion that 
  the Liberated could feel strongly was a deep and abiding love for 
  those people, places, and ideas that earned their devotion.
  Liberation came with a cost, of course. Subjects could expect to 
  die of assorted exotic brain cancers within forty to fi fty years of 
  modifi cation. Given the great human longevity achieved by pretech 
  anagathics, the price was a real one, but some of the most pious 
  Jivakans received Liberation all the same.
  Th e elder monks of Reformed Th eravadinism maintained that the 
  chemical state induced by Liberation made it impossible to accrue 
  merit. A practitioner who no longer felt passion could not be hon-
  ored for his lack of attachment, and the other conventional means 
  of acquiring merit were no longer effi  cacious for the Liberated. 
  However, the act of choosing to undergo Liberation was exceed-
  ingly meritorious and could make up for all that was sacrifi ced 
  thereafter. Th e act of encouraging others to accept Liberation was 
  also a notable means of accruing merit toward eventual freedom 
  from the cycles of the world.
   Mantheesh the Damned
  One monk-scientist became consumed by this idea of borrowed 
  piety. Mantheesh Th ilak’s own life was in ruins. Ejected from the 
  sangha of monks, the association defrocked him for his dissipated 
  ways and unbecoming behavior. He burned to fi nd some way to 
  redeem himself, some feat so dramatic that the others must acknowl-
  edge his worthiness. He labored long years in obscurity, importing 
  rare pretech carrier nanites and ‘recruiting’ assistants from among 
  those who would never be missed. After fi fteen years of passionate 
  labor, he had what he had desired.
  Water was a rare and limited resource on Jivaka. It was simple enough 
  for him to infi ltrate the nanites into the few major water supplies, to 
  let the carrier spread undetectably in every sip. Th e eff ects did not 
  begin to show for six weeks, by which time the consequences were 
  irrevocable. Th e entire population had been retrogenetically modi-
  fi ed. Th e death toll was enormous. Th irty percent of those modifi ed 
  died within the year from systemic immune collapse. Mantheesh 
  had aimed for a greater return on this price, but he got some of what 
  he was after. Two percent of all Jivakan off spring were going to be 
  born Liberated. Surely Mantheesh’s merit would be unimaginably 
  great for ushering so many generations into serenity.
  He earned the universal hatred of his fellow Jivakans and the 
  name “Mantheesh the Damned” that follows him even today. 
  Whatever merit Mantheesh had earned by bringing so many into 
  non-attachment was overwhelmed by the tragedy that was to befall 
  those children. Born as they were, they could not hope to acquire 
  merit from spiritual growth, and could not be credited with the 
  choice to become as they were. Th ey were to be condemned to a life 
  of terrible spiritual stasis, unable to gain merit toward true libera-
  tion. Th e enraged Jivakans were never able to capture Mantheesh, 
  who vanished somewhere deep in the system’s thick asteroid belts 
  and took his forbidden research with him. Despite this, a certain 
  number of Jivakans nurse a secret conviction that Mantheesh was 
  right, that his plans were fl awed only in that they did not go far 
  enough. Th is “Left Hand of Enlightenment” still quietly seeks 
  Mantheesh’s laboratory and the ancient secrets of mass Liberation 
  locked within.
   THE  RED SANGHA MERCENARY CORPS
  HEIRS TO A BLOODY NIRVANA
  
  47
   Th e Scream and the Red Sangha’s Rise
  Th is hatred for Mantheesh did not have much time to fester. Five 
  years later, the Scream destroyed the links with the core worlds and 
  cast Jivaka on its own resources. Th e harsh life became harder still 
  as pretech agricultural equipment and industrial materials began to 
  break down before the Jivakans were able to develop alternatives. 
  For decades, the planet experienced a slow, inexorable decline in the 
  number of colonists it could support. Increasing pressure caused 
  fi ssures to form in Jivakan society, hunger and fear driving the cities 
  and statelets into open confl ict.
  Th e sangha of Jivakan monks tried desperately to maintain peace 
  and amity among the city-states. Th eir cause seemed lost until one 
  among them thought to enlist the Liberated. Pitied for their unfor-
  tunate births and inability to accrue merit, they had never found 
  a solid place in Jivakan society, and tended to gather together in 
  isolated communities to live among their own kind. Th e desperate 
  monks gathered them together and argued the necessity of their aid 
  in the face of Jivaka’s impending catastrophe. After brief consulta-
  tion, the Liberated agreed. Th e monks presented an ultimatum to 
  the warring states; either they accepted the guidance of the sangha 
  and the peace they would impose, or the Liberated would be un-
  leashed upon them.
  Some refused. Th e Liberated understood the necessity of the 
  moment, the need for Jivaka to stand together if it was ever to 
  survive as something more than benighted barbarism. And know-
  ing no true fear of the enemy and no true distress at the killing, 
  they unleashed such merciless violence against the resisters that all 
  opposition crumbled within six months. Th e “Red Sangha” was 
  born there in the ruins of burning temples and shattered cities. A 
  grotesque mockery of the sangha of monks, the Red Sangha would 
  be the bloodied fi st of salvation.
  Th e Liberated were perfect guardians for the monks who were to 
  guide Jivaka. Th ey craved neither wealth nor families nor power, 
  and were content to exist in calm, serene peace, motivated solely by 
  love for their faith and their world. Th ey were impossible to bribe, 
  fearless in the face of the enemy, and unfl inching in their devotion 
  to their people. Were it not for their tendency to unhesitatingly 
  commit the most extravagant acts of violence against anyone not 
  included in benevolence they felt, they might have been perfect as 
  leaders as well as guardians.
  Jivaka’s poverty left it trapped within its own atmosphere until 
  the Silence began to wane, and a tramp freighter from a more 
  advanced neighboring world fi nally managed to reestablish contact. 
  Th e freighter captain made a king’s ransom in pharmaceuticals in 
  exchange for providing the fi rst bootstrap system ships to reestablish 
  mining facilities in the asteroid belts and slowly haul Jivaka’s indus-
  try back up to postech standards.
  Despite the pharmaceuticals derived from Jivakan plants, the planet 
  remained desperately poor. After due consideration, the leadership 
  of the Red Sangha volunteered to establish a band of mercenary 
  monks, Liberated men and women willing to leave their home 
  system and fi ght on distant stars in order to bring back foreign 
  wealth to their beloved homeworld. Th e monastic leadership of 
  Jivaka made ritual objections to the inevitable loss of human life, 
  but the Red Sangha would not be dissuaded. As they were already 
  condemned to further cycles of existence, who was better suited to 
  make such sacrifi ces?
  In the years since, the Red Sangha has earned a ferocious reputation 
  among the worlds of the sector. While their equipment is somewhat 
  lacking compared to the wealthier interstellar mercenary organiza-
  tions, the absolute fearlessness of Red Sangha troopers gives them 
  a strength far out of proportion with their numbers. A Red Sangha 
  brother never panics, never freezes up, and never experiences the 
  gnawing torment of fear, stress, and anger. Th ey retain calm and un-
  troubled hearts even amid the thunder of an orbital bombardment 
  or tactical nuclear strike. Th eir avoidance of wanton destruction 
  and misuse of the locals is also a point in their favor, though guerilla 
  activities are suppressed with a brutal thoroughness that respects 
  neither age nor sex.
  Presently, the Red Sangha is based off  of the Peerless-class orbital 
  station Lower Heaven above Jivaka, with the station serving as the 
  heart of the poor world’s makeshift stellar navy as well as its central 
  command for the Red Sangha brotherhood. A dedicated troop 
  transport ship has been assigned to the mercenaries, but much of 
  the rest of Jivakan navy can be enlisted at need.
  
  48
   Corps Organization
  Th e Red Sangha is technically comprised of two percent of the 
  entire Jivakan population, over 8,000 men and women of ages 
  ranging from newborns to those in the fi nal throes of brain cancer 
  at age fi fty. Eight hundred of these are fi t for off world military duty, 
  and these combat-trained members form the Red Sangha as it is 
  known to outsiders.
  Th e organization is built around almost monastic lines rather than 
  those of a conventional military. Much of the common discipline, 
  rigorous social control, and focused eff ort to build an esprit de corps 
  that military structures allow are unnecessary with the Liberated. 
  Th ey simply lack the urges and weaknesses that make traditional 
  military structures so important.
  Th e leader of the Red Sangha is the Abbot, a position appointed 
  by a council of the eldest sangha members. Th e word of the Abbot 
  is law within the Red Sangha. Beneath him are appointed the 
  rectors who oversee each company of one hundred brothers and 
  sisters, the rank and fi le of the Red Sangha. Within the rank and 
  fi le, authority generally shakes out along time in service, though 
  occasionally a squad will recognize the special talents of one of 
  their more junior members. Discipline problems are extremely rare 
  among the Red Sangha, though when they happen, they can be 
  brutal. Most brethren reserve their dearest love for the Red Sangha 
  and the homeworld, but those who conceive diff erent attachments 
  can respond with unmeasured violence to threats against them.
  Roughly fi fty of the brothers are left to man the Lower Heaven, while 
  three or four of the companies are aboard the station in training or 
  refi tting after a mission. No more than three or four hundred Red 
  Sangha brethren are out of the system at any one time. Each com-
  pany of one hundred brethren is usually composed of one quarter 
  logistical and support troops and three quarters combat troops. Th e 
  mercenaries tend to rely heavily on local support for their logistical 
  needs, though they can get by on surprisingly limited supply when 
  necessity requires it.
  Individual companies are broken up into ten-man squads led by an 
  Elder Brother or Sister, with the second most experienced brother 
  assisting. Th ese ten-man squads can break into fi ve-man fi re teams 
  when necessary, one led by the Elder Brother and the other by his 
  second-in-command. Th e Red Sangha is highly reluctant to detach 
  troops in less than fi re team strength, and where one is found, four 
  more are almost invariably close by.
  Five of the companies are mechanized infantry, relying on simple 
  battery-powered armored personnel carriers to get them to the 
  fi ght. Th ese carriers are relatively low-tech, but they can be kept in 
  operation with refi tted local parts on any world with tech level 3 or 
  better. A drop pod, cargo lighter, or other landing craft can usually 
  keep an entire company’s APCs powered by refreshing expended 
  type B power cells. Keeping more than that operational requires 
  setting up a fusion plant facility, fossil fuel power plant, or tapping 
  into a town’s power grid. A company carries enough spares to go 
  three or four days between charging opportunities.
  Sixth Company is artillery, detailed to fi re and support an array of 
  heavy self-propelled guns. Th ese guns are signifi cantly slower than 
  the all-terrain APCs that the Red Sangha uses, but their eff ective-
  ness against the fortifi cations of low-tech enemies is undeniable. 
  Even enemies on more advanced worlds are rarely equipped to deal 
  with tracked artillery unless they too are military personnel. Th e 
  guns are often used to wreak fearsome destruction on the villages 
  and towns of those locals who fi nd guerilla warfare preferable to 
  open confrontation.
  Seventh Company is offi  cially the recon company, trained and 
  equipped for scouting and local liaison. In practice, it is also the 
  home of the Deep Black operatives that belong to the Red Sangha. 
  Th ese men and women are trained for deep infi ltration into enemy 
  territory, and they carry out covert operations for the Jivakan gov-
  ernment as well.
  Lotus Company is comparatively short on strength, comprised 
  of only fi fty staff  offi  cers and support personnel. Th e abbot’s ap-
  pointed representative on the world generally leads the company, 
  though for exceptionally important or delicate contracts, the abbot 
  himself might leave Jivakan space to personally oversee aff airs. Th is 
  company is often split off  in smaller parcels to oversee individual 
  contracts, and at least ten of them are almost always back in Jivakan 
  space to manage aff airs in the home system and serve as a training 
  cadre in case of catastrophic losses. Th ose who manage to infl ict 
  such catastrophic losses can expect these survivors to diligently seek 
  the culprits’ transmigration into their next existence.
   Red Sangha Deployment
  Th e corps is most often deployed in company strength at a 
  minimum, transported aboard the company’s cantankerous second-
  hand troopship, the Hinayana. Th e Hinayana is easily capable of 
  transporting up to six thousand troops at a time, but it severely 
  undergunned compared to other cruiser-class vessels. As such, the 
  Hinayana almost never leaves Jivakan space without an escort of 
  one or two frigates, or patrol boats if the additional drill range is 
  necessary.
  Th e Hinayana does not normally remain in orbit around a world 
  unless the locals are unable to pose a signifi cant threat to it. Even 
  in that case, it will only remain as long as its hydroponic supplies 
  or medical bay are necessary. Air support is normally provided 
  by helicopters, with an atmosphere-capable frigate dispatched for 
  heavy support.
  Th e Red Sangha will deploy into a hot landing zone only under 
  circumstances of dire necessity. Th e Hinayana is equipped with a 
  Th underhead grav pod system that can launch a cloud of six hun-
  dred ten-man landing pods, making it all but certain to get the 
  vast majority of her troops onto the surface, even through ferocious 
  anti-air defenses. However, the Th underhead system costs 625,000 
  credits to refi t- a sum amounting to slightly more than four percent 
  of Jivaka’s entire annual naval budget. Under most circumstances 
  the crew are ferried down by the Hinayana’s drop pod.
  RED SANGHA  ORGANIZATION AND RESOURCES
  
  49
  On the surface, liaison personnel set up local sources for food 
  and spare parts while the Hinayana provides the logistical slack to 
  support the corps while it sets up. Earthmovers and plasticrete are 
  used to put together a fortifi ed encampment for the troops, as the 
  Red Sangha prefers to barrack well away from the locals for security 
  reasons.
  When charged with guarding a site or VIP, the Sangha will always 
  detach troopers in multiples of fi ve. Inclination and experience 
  have taught them that small groups of mercs have a habit of going 
  missing on foreign worlds. Kidnap attempts are useless against 
  Red Sangha mercs, however. Th e corps regretfully writes off  any 
  kidnapped troopers as casualties, and simply preferences targeting 
  their kidnappers with no special concern for retrieving their people 
  alive. It is a variety of mercy to usher a Liberated one into their next 
  cycle, after all.
  Th e Red Sangha are remarkably well-disciplined in many regards, 
  compared to the usual run of interstellar mercs. Th ey do not pillage, 
  torture for sport, rape, recklessly destroy property, or kill civilians 
  thoughtlessly. Th ey pay for what they take and they can be relied 
  upon to keep their word even when it is inconvenient.
  In other respects, however, the Red Sangha is monstrously brutal. 
  Th eir respect for human life tends to be abstract, a general appre-
  ciation for the value of compassion and nonviolence. If the most 
  convenient way to accomplish an end is to kill every living thing in 
  a town, they’ll pile the corpses in the market square without batting 
  an eye. Th ey respect neither sex nor age when “cleansing” an area, 
  and some frankly prefer clearing noncombatants as being easier 
  work. Th eir theological justifi cation for this coldness rests on an 
  appreciation of existence as being a commingled skein of suff ering. 
  Th e skillful means of liberation can be gentle teaching or it can be a 
  quick dispatch to the next cycle. Th e choice of means is determined 
  by convenience.
  Many other Buddhist faiths in the sector fi nd the Red Sangha to 
  be unutterably depraved, but the Sangha is unconcerned. Th e sole 
  attachment remaining to them is that of love- love for their world, 
  their brethren, and their faith. As they can progress no further 
  toward enlightenment in this life, they are fi t and correct sacrifi ces 
  to the necessities of the world. What they do is necessary, as they 
  understand it, and they say that they would not regret it even if 
  they could.
   Jivakan Naval Forces
  Under the rules provided in the Skyward Steel naval sourcebook, 
  Jivaka is a planet with 400,000 people living at a Poor standard of 
  living. As such, they have 70 budget points with which to build 
  their fl eet. Th e Red Sangha live aboard the Peerless space station 
  Lower Heaven, while a Bannerjee-12 orbital provides coverage for 
  the other side of the planet and a terminal for the limited trade 
  conducted with other worlds.
  Th e Jivakan fl eet consists of the troop transport Hinayana, the three 
  frigates Vajra, Prajna, and Bhavana, the two patrol boats Vinaya 
  and Sutta, the naval couriers Sutra and Khor, and the free merchant 
  Maya. Th ree or four of these ships are docked at the Lower Heaven 
  at any one time for refi tting and maintenance. Th e naval couriers 
  are generally used to keep in contact with dispersed Red Sangha 
  detachments, though they also fi nd use in Deep Black operations. 
  Th e free merchant runs supplies to the smaller corp units, and is 
  occasionally impressed for covert operations that require a suitably 
  innocent civilian vessel.
  Details on the troop transport and naval courier ship classes can 
  be found in the Skyward Steel naval sourcebook, along with infor-
  mation on creating planetary naval forces and conducting orbital 
  assaults.
   Using the Red Sangha in a Campaign
  Th e Red Sangha work well as enemies for experienced groups of 
  adventurers. While their equipment leaves something to be desired, 
  their lethal aim can make them a threat even to well-armored and 
  hardy freebooters. Most novice adventurers should have the sense to 
  avoid tangling with them, especially since they are rarely found in 
  groups smaller than fi ve.
  Th e Sangha can be guardians of a person the PCs need to kill, 
  protectors of a place they need to infi ltrate, or even the opposing 
  force across some backwater world’s smoking battlefi elds. Repeated 
  clashes in which the Sangha is foiled or embarrassed are likely to 
  result in Deep Black operatives being dispatched to cause terminal 
  problems for the PCs. Th ere’s nothing personal about the act to the 
  Sangha; it’s just necessary business to clear away inevitable future 
  problems.
  Th e Sangha might be used as patrons or allies as well, perhaps 
  requiring the help of the PCs to salvage some vital mission or 
  avenge themselves on a treacherous employer. Th e Sangha might 
  be decimated by some disastrous reversal, and be in desperate need 
  of outworlder help to fi ll out their numbers or maintain their ob-
  ligations until more Liberated can be mustered. While the Sangha 
  is merciless in many ways, they lack the megalomania and arrant 
  cruelty that can put a group fi rmly onto the “implacable foe” list 
  for some players.
  Aside from this, the secret biochemical lore of Mantheesh the 
  Damned still lurks somewhere deep in Jivaka’s asteroid belt, and 
  certain zealous Jivakans are looking for it. Th is Left Hand of En-
  lightenment might well contain a number of renegade Red Sangha, 
  all of them dedicated to infecting new worlds with the synthetic 
  enlightenment of Liberation.
  
  50
   Red Sangha Brother
  Armor Class 5 (Woven Armor)
  No. Appearing 5
  Hit Dice 1
  Saving Th row 15+
  Attack Bonus +4
  Movement 30’
  Damage 1d12 combat rifl e
  Morale 12
  Skill Bonus +1
  Th e Red Sangha lacks the money and infrastructure to supply all 
  its troops with advanced postech armor and weaponry. Th e corps 
  spends enough time on low-tech worlds that more primitive combat 
  rifl es and woven armor are much easier to supply from local materi-
  als. Th eir chief advantage is in the quality of the troops rather than 
  that of their gear; Red Sangha troopers never rout and never panic. 
  Th is serene effi  ciency in the midst of roaring chaos makes even the 
  least experienced brother exceedingly dangerous, with their shots 
  squeezed off  as calmly as if they were on a fi ring range.
   Red Sangha Covert Operative
  Armor Class 4 (CFU)
  No. Appearing
  1-6
  Hit Dice 3
  Saving Th row 14+
  Attack Bonus +6
  Movement 30’
  Damage 2d8+1 mag rifl e
  Morale 12
  Skill Bonus +2
  Th ese brothers are those chosen and trained for highly sensitive 
  Deep Black operations far behind enemy lines. All of them wed 
  years of fi eld experience to the Sangha calm, and have their pick of 
  the best equipment available on Jivaka. No more than fi fty Sangha 
  are qualifi ed for such operations at any one time, and as many as 
  half of them are on long-term deployment as personal security 
  for well-paying offi  cials and foreign rulers. Due to their rarity, the 
  Sangha cannot always deploy fi ve of them at a time.
   Red Sangha Psychic
  Armor Class 2 (Defl ector Array)
  No. Appearing 1
  Hit Dice 3+3
  Saving Th row 14+
  Attack Bonus +3
  Movement 30’
  Damage 2d6 thermal pistol
  Morale 12
  Skill Bonus +2
  With as few as the Sangha are, there are rarely more than two or 
  three psychics available to them at any one time. Such combat 
  psychics are often drawn from personnel otherwise far too young or 
  old to serve with the corps, such is the need for experienced psionic 
  experts. Th ey are protected jealously and never exposed to danger 
  unless necessity demands it. Other Sangha will readily give their 
  lives to save a brother psychic. Psychics normally have 21 psi points, 
  Telepathy 5 (with levels 1-3 mastered) and Teleportation 5, with 
  their duties largely revolving around interrogations and bypassing 
  enemy defenses. For exceptionally sensitive covert missions, a psy-
  chic will form a mental link with the participants and then go into 
  deep hiding in a system’s asteroid belt or on some lifeless moon. So 
  long as the psychic remains in the system, the Deep Black team can 
  use him as an undetectable, untouchable communications channel.
   Abbot Daniel Balavrata
  Armor Class 2 (Defl ector Array)
  No. Appearing 1
  Hit Dice 9 (52 hit points)
  Saving Th row 11+
  Attack Bonus +12
  Movement 30’
  Damage 2d6+2 mag pistol
  Morale 12
  Skill Bonus +4
  Abbot Balavrata has led the Red Sangha since his predecessor’s death 
  to brain cancer eight years ago. With his fi ftieth year approaching, 
  Balavrata understands that his own time is growing short, and 
  he feels concern over the prospects of the Sangha after his death. 
  A catastrophic betrayal by a treacherous employer four years ago 
  killed both of the potential successors that he was grooming to 
  succeed him, and the remaining candidates all lack the seasoning 
  and accomplishment that Abbot Balavrata fi nds necessary. Almost 
  as regrettably, the traitorous employer remains unrebuked for his 
  treachery, and his example is doubtless giving unfortunate thoughts 
  to others in the sector.
  Balavrata is even considering gathering in some of the renegades 
  that have left the Red Sangha in hopes that some few of them might 
  have manifested the leadership skills and prowess he requires. Un-
  beknownst to him, several of those renegades have gone over to the 
  Left Hand of Enlightenment, and the consequences of their ascent 
  could be catastrophic. Outside the order, a few native Jivakans have 
  found evidence to suggest this spiritual cancer, but it is insuffi  cient 
  to prove their case. Outsiders may be necessary in order to acquire 
  the proof that Abbot Balavrata would doubtless require.
   RED SANGHA NPC STATISTICS
  
  51
  Th ose affl  icted with Liberation have short lives, with few living 
  much beyond fi fty before succumbing to brain cancer. Still, some 
  do leave the Red Sangha to fi nd a diff erent path, most often those 
  who can no longer subscribe to the Sangha’s interpretation of Bud-
  dhism. Th eir brothers do not challenge these departures. Th ey feel 
  only pity and sympathy for their wayward friend.
  Th e advantages and fl aws of the Red Sangha have no mechanical 
  eff ect on player characters, as PCs already eff ectively have unshak-
  able morale and can choose to react to situations as they see fi t. Th e 
  natural talent Red Sangha members have for violence and bloodshed 
  tends to blend in well with the usual pastimes of player characters.
  In terms of roleplaying, the average Red Sangha PC will be calm, 
  polite, patient, and devoted to their friends and chosen companions. 
  Th ey will not be terribly interested in physical pleasures or material 
  rewards, but can become fi ercely fi xated on ideological goals and 
  religious obligations. Th ey simply do not feel the darker emotions 
  as more than mild notions- no fear, no hate, no anger, no lust, no 
  greed... and certainly no regret.
   Brother of the Red Sangha
  Background
  Even those Liberated that are expected to fulfi ll diff erent duties as 
  they age are often posted to the Red Sangha during their youth. 
  Th ese acolytes of battle spend their days in serene meditation and 
  study of the arts of war.
  Skills: Combat/Projectile, Culture/Jivaka, Religion, Tactics
   Veteran Sangha Infantry
  Training
  After a period of four or fi ve years of training, even the least 
  promising brother has seen some action planetside and mastered 
  the essentials of war. Veteran infantry such as these are superb 
  soldiers, easily the match of any ordinary mercenary trooper. Th e 
  bloodless calm and focus of the Sangha make them extraordi-
  narily eff ective under circumstances that would leave a normal 
  man shattered with panic or excitement. Infantry with a knack 
  for technical pursuits often are made drivers and mechanics for 
  the armored personnel carriers favored by the Sangha.
  Any class can choose this option for a training package. Psychics 
  gain the fi rst four skills, warriors and experts gain the next two, 
  and experts get the last two.
  All characters gain: Combat/Projectile, Combat/Unarmed, 
  Religion, Tactics
  Warriors and Experts also gain: Athletics, Stealth
  Experts also gain: Tech/Postech, Vehicle/Land
   MARTIAL ART: UPAYA
  Th e traditional unarmed martial art of the Red Sangha, “Upaya” 
  refers more widely to the entire corpus of military knowledge and 
  expertise the corps has cultivated. Outsiders have been known 
  to master the art, but much of it is cloaked in complex Buddhist 
  religious terminology and arcane physical exercises. Observant 
  Buddhists from other religious traditions in the sector abhor 
  it, and consider its practice prima facie evidence of unspeakable 
  spiritual degeneration.
  Th e style itself focuses on indiff erence to personal suff ering in 
  order to achieve victory over a foe. Th is feat is substantially easier 
  for Liberated humans than those who retain the full scope of 
  emotional reactions, but it can be sustained by suffi  ciently de-
  termined outsiders. Th e style uses numerous sacrifi ce moves and 
  demands motions that can occasionally strain or harm the user. 
  Damage infl icted on oneself by using the novice level of the art 
  cannot reduce the stylist’s hit points below 1.
  Martial arts styles are intended for campaigns in which the GM 
  wishes to make unarmed and melee combat an reasonable alter-
  native to fi rearms. For details on learning and using martial arts, 
  consult Mandate Archive: Martial Arts.
  Weapon Groups
  Unarmed
  Level 0
  Novice
  Th e novice’s strikes do 1d8 damage. Th e 
  novice can declare an unarmed sacrifi ce strike 
  before rolling; if the attack is successful, the 
  strike automatically does maximum damage. 
  Whether or not it’s successful, the user takes 
  1d6 damage himself.
  Level 1
  Intermediate
  After a miss with an unarmed attack, the 
  stylist can push the assault and gain a reroll 
  on the attack roll. However, the next melee 
  attack by the target against the stylist will 
  automatically hit.
  Level 2
  Master
  Th e master’s strikes do 2d6 damage. When 
  missed by an enemy in melee, the stylist may 
  grant the enemy a reroll on the attack roll. 
  Hit or miss, if the stylist survives the second 
  attack roll he may make an immediate un-
  armed counterattack.
   RED SANGHA AS PLAYER CHARACTERS
  
SOURCE: textdata/thevault/Stars Without Number/Stars Without Number Supplements/Mandate Archive/Mandate Archive Collection 2011.pdf