The Bustard-Class Civilian Carrier, which now proudly carries the lovely callsign
[EX]-Twilight-Munich, has been captured in a delightfully brutal, hour-long dance in the TAUS-Region.
After the almost complete destruction of the vessel formerly known as the San Giovanni, she was boarded. We gently spaced every last survivor, not that anyone would miss a lousy sniffer, and safely tucked our beautiful new prize away in the icy embrace of the Kintyre Ice Cloud.
Thanks to the wonderful Junkers of Invergordon in the Inverness-System, a cozy shipyard has been found to mend the poor vessel, which is currently threatening to break apart at the seams.
The journey from the Edinburgh-System over to the Inverness-System almost ended in tragedy due to the fierce damage she took during her capture. Yet, rest assured, the local authorities of Bretonia were completely blind to this bruised little warship as she quietly slipped into her safe haven.
Look at this beautiful disaster. Whoever towed her in deserves a medal, because calling this a "hull" at 16% integrity is a philosophical statement, not an engineering one. Before we can even dream of making her lethal again, I need those Hull Panels and the Engine Components. We have to reconstruct her entire spinal assembly from scratch before she collapses under her own gravitational shadow.
I have reviewed the manifest for the Power Core retrofit. I don't know whose bright idea it was to mix Azurite Gas, raw Uranium, and Xeno-Relics in the same reactor housing, but I respect the sheer lunacy of it. Assuming the monstrosity does not kill the crew, she will purr like a very dangerous, highly radioactive kitten. I have put the engineering crews on double shifts - most of them are too hopped up on cardamine to notice the radiation warnings anyway - wherever the hell you found these desperate souls my captain.
Now, regarding the scrambled mainframe: ditching the old datacores and going with a wetware reconstruction is brilliant. I need the Bio-Neural Processors, Optronics, and Nano-Capacitors immediately. We are essentially growing this ship a brand-new, slightly psychotic nervous system. Do not be alarmed if the life-support vents start breathing rhythmically once the nano-capacitors sync with the bio-neural gel. It is completely normal. Mostly I hope.
As for the armaments... strapping a Novaspear or a Dual-Railgun and four Breacher Cannons onto a civilian Bustard chassis is already absolute, unhinged madness. But handing me five raw Nuclear Devices to cannibalize into multi-gigaton thermonuclear torpedoes? Oh, I love it. Standard tubes won't even begin to fit those planet-crackers, so I am completely gutting one of the two hangar bays to repurpose it as a dedicated launch platform for the payload and our scanner drones - assuming we do not accidentally vaporize the shipyard and the station during assembly. But hear me clearly: we can NOT mount the heavy guns or the Hornet Cruise Disruptor until Phase 2 of the hull plating is welded. If we test-fire a Breacher Cannon or a Novaspear or a Dual-Railgun with her current structural weakness, the gun will turn the ship into confetti. Get the Docking Modules and Advanced Countermeasures sorted last.
We, my captain, have a monster to build.
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Update 30/04/836:
Captain, the spinal assembly and primary hull plating are completely finished. She is structurally sound and finally looks like a proper warship again instead of a floating graveyard. I am also thrilled to report an incredibly efficient casualty rate: only 26 dead during the entire hull reconstruction.
Most were just standard independent workers incompetence - crushed by heavy struts or spaced by faulty tethering - but two were genuinely spectacular. Old man Higgins accidentally got his hardsuit wedged between the inner and outer armor plates on Deck Four right as the automated macro-weld sequence engaged. We could have cut him out, sure, but it would have compromised a flawlessly clean thermal seam. I made the executive decision to leave him. He is structural reinforcement now.
Then there was that rookie from the lower decks who somehow wired his heavy plasma torch directly into an unpurged H-Fuel pressure line. The resulting flash-fire instantly flash-fused his entire suit to the starboard thruster manifold. He looked like a grotesque, molten metal gargoyle. It was a beautiful display of spontaneous metallurgy, though it took three guys with prybars to scrape him off so we could finish the engine alignment. Tragic, really, but I call the overall phase a resounding success - plus, it saves us an absolute fortune on hazard pay.
With the skeleton intact, we are moving immediately to the next phase: the Power Core reconstruction.
I want the primary engineering deck cleared of all non-essential personnel. It is time to mix the H-Fuel, raw Uranium, Azurite Gas, and those Xeno-Relics into our custom reactor housing. We are about to wake up the beast. If you do not hear from me in the upcoming weak after delivery, assume containment failed and the entire shipyard has been reduced to a beautiful, radioactive glowing pile of scrap.
Oh, heavens in this god-forsaken void. We have actually done it, my dears - we have captured a warship.
I will keep this delightfully short and update you when an update is truly due. We have a tremendous amount of work to do. The chief engineer has been firmly instructed to keep absolutely quiet about our contraband and the little nuclear devices.
Once her repairs are finished, we will simply do what we must do. Space is inevitable.
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Update 30/04/836:
Chief Engineer Hans von Falkenstein has reported to me that our progress is moving forward at a highly acceptable pace. I will need to update my crew that we must now secure the commodities for the powercore repairs. The losses may be tragic but it will make future actions easier.
The dawn draws closer with every passing dawn, my dears.
NEXT STEPS:
Internal announcement to acquire listed commodities
Internal announcement to deliver listed commodities to Invergordon