"Welcome to Last Light Station," I say. The projection taking up the sunken portion of the table shifts, revealing darkness, only a few twinkles illuminate its nature—space. Slowly, as if drifting into the shot, a silver structure comes into view, contrasting against the black, a ring with a central pylon. "Standing on the edge of explored space, it is the only piece of civilization for thousands of light years, placed in the farthest reaches of the Terran Collective. Built in the third era after Ascension as a scientific and exploratory outpost, now serving an even grander purpose." Zooming into the station, the buzzing swarm of crafts around it gain fidelity. Thousands of different makes and models are docking, departing, or simply floating near the gargantuan structure. "A safe haven. Or a final warning. What will it be for you?"

With a blurring jolt, the projection enters the ring, passes through a busy dock, and then settles in the inner section. The current time is day, a soft light illuminating the interior.

"How doesn't that just collapse in on itself?" Erysis asks.

"Do you want the in-universe explanation, or how I would do it?"

"Both!"

"Well, if it was me... Firstly, I wouldn't make the station this shape. The configuration is both impractical and highly inefficient. Secondly—"

"Focus, Mr. Narrator," Elisa says. "And you, Apprentice, you know how he is. Don't enable him." Erysis whispers out a sorry with a not-so-sorry grin on her face.

"We can go over station design later, then," I reluctantly say.

The unmoving projection starts to slowly meander in a direction again, showing off the interior of the station. The ceiling is up high, not a single building even close to reaching it, for how can metal and glass reach the sky. Panels emulate a rich blue, sprinkled with fluffy white clouds.

People are walking around or zooming along with the underground maglev, the metal tube inside another tube carrying them to their destination in a flash. For a station in the middle of nowhere, most of the buildings are residential. Over half of the people live here full-time. The other side might not be living for long. Because there is only one reason to be at the Last Light—to venture forth and explore the unexplored.

The scene locks onto a particular building, nestled between two others, hidden from view. A flickering neon sign gives it the name—'Bottom of the Barrel'. A bar.

We go inside. The light of simulated day is replaced by a dim yellow, almost like there's a lingering haze inside. The bartender is polishing a glass. Behind him, an assortment of bottles filled with all manner of colors.

There's a single woman sitting at the wooden bar, sipping on cheap whisky. Her ashy hair glints in the artificial light, adding some of its own. A few strands are not as they seem. Her modified ears poke out of the fluffy hair, covered in sharp metal. But it's not only the ears, her whole body is. Lines of dark alloy, originating from one of her eyes, flow along her cheek, her neck, her body, her legs, her arms, and her hands, ending at sharp, glossy nails. The woman's unfocused eyes are constantly darting around, looking at nothing in particular.

A man and a woman are huddled at one of the tables, warily eyeing the door of the establishment from time to time. The woman is wearing a rust-colored cloak, the hood covering her jet-black hair, and a few other surprises. The man is decked out with scorched and pitted armor, like he got hit by a shower of meteorites. But his gaze, his gaze shows that he dug himself out right after. There's a hefty handgun on his hip. Chemical propellant.

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The entrance slides open with whoosh. The man and woman sitting together whip their heads to the newest arrival. The woman at the bar does not react. The bartender stops polishing his precious glass for a second, briefly glancing at the door. Standing there is a tall woman, most of her body replaced with cybernetics, long ochre hair cascading down.

"What do you do, Khi?" I ask.

"I walk over to the bar and sit down. A stool over from the poser elf."

"Hey!" the poser in question exclaims.

Erysis says, "I observe her."

"Alright... You see that the woman is heavily augmented. Military cybernetics. But you don't know any further specifics." Nexen gives me a nod. I direct my attention to him. "Hmm... You recognize the look—marine. But not current. She's not active duty." I turn to Khi. "You notice the two mysterious patrons studying you intently."

Khi shrugs and says in a fake gruff voice, "I'm used to the stares. Are they a threat?"

"Let's see... Your training and experience firmly agree that they can be. But there are no active warrants nor contracts open on them. The threat is only there if you want it to be."

The soldierly beastfolk channels some of her own martial training, imbuing it in her character's voice. "Roger. As we were."

"You sit at the bar, and the bartender deigns you with his gaze again, setting down the perfectly clean glass." My voice changes, my lips moving with the projection. "What can I getcha?"

"I look over to what the pretend elf is drinking and point," Khi says. Elisa playfully scrunches up her face at her, earning a smirk.

I grunt an affirmative. The bartender pulls out an unlabeled bottle from under the bar. And a streaky glass. He fills it to the brim, surface tension holding the slick liquid in, and then returns to his singularly focused polishing.

Khi says, "I take a sip." The projection follows her command. "What does it ta—" Her question is interrupted by the whole room violently shaking, bottles falling and shattering, the bartender panicking and tightly clutching his one and only.

Before any of the players can react, a loud alarm starts blaring, replacing the dim light of the bar with a harsh red. With a grind and a thunk, a shutter reinforces the only visible way out.

A vaguely feminine and vaguely robotic voice starts speaking, "Warning. Station under assault. Multiple breaches detected. Seek shelter immediately." The message loops, repeating anew.

Khi quickly says, "I approach the door and attempt to pry open the shutter."

Elisa turns to her. "I wouldn't do that if I were you," the elf speaks in character.

"Can't handle depressurization?" Khi flippantly asks.

"That I can handle fine. This is what I'm concerned about," Elisa says. Then she turns to me. "I show Khi a projection from the camera I've selected."

Khi studies the image for a second, and then spits out with hatred, "Pirates." Her voice returns to normal. "I sit back down and go back to drinking." As Khi's character starts to lift the partially spilled glass up, the air system turns on, starting to swiftly blow in a green smoke. "Well, shit." Her character downs the whisky.

The players appear to lose consciousness in mere seconds. All four rolls are high enough.

A scene shift replaces the seedy bar with a sterile metal room. A door clunks open, and wild looking figures, covered in full-body power suits, unceremoniously throw in the four—plus bartender—passed out players. After the door closes back up and a few seconds have passed, all four start to stir, springing up immediately.

Elisa is the first to speak, "We need to make this quick, while their ship is still here, and they are still loading their cargo."

Erysis fires back, "Who made you in charge?"

Khi turns to her, "I just did. Got a problem?"

Erysis giggles silently and shrugs. "Fine. For now. Can you get us out?" she asks the elf.

"We'll see," Elisa says. "I go over to the access panel and attempt to take control."

I ask for clarification, "Control of what?"

Elisa smiles widely at me. "Yes." The three other players turn to her, full of anticipation.

Her character approaches a section of the wall next to the door and stabs a nail through the metal, hitting the electronics beneath.

I narrow my eyes at her. "Roll." Son of a— "Ahem. You gain control of all ship systems."

Elisa smugly cracks her knuckles to the sound of three excited cheers.

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