Personal Log – Caliban Tisk

IY6026.305
Personal Log – Caliban Tisk
Volunteer Bureaucratic Facilitator (SAFCO)

It’ll be fun, I told myself. It’ll be an adventure, I’ll get to practice my EVA skills. I’ll be a fearless roughneck like these guys, right? What the hell was I thinking stuffing my bureaucratic bunghole into a vacc suit and going on a salvage expedition?

The moment we got there I was nearly blasted off into space from the door’s explosive decompression. Smooth move, slick. I felt like a kid talking to the adults suggesting we tethered up according to standard vacc training, but it did keep me from becoming a satellite. That’s a win at least.

We get in and find a bunch of those furball things I saw on the planet. I started to think they might be the crew, but no, they’re the little shits from the planet in some sort of hibernation.

One of those fartnuggets transforms right in front of me and in moments it’s like we’re in a Delphinian orgy when the host goes missing – a lot of noise, a lot of screaming, and nobody knows what the hell is going on. The guns start blazing, we nearly get sucked back out into space, and those fucksticks are everywhere.

We worked our way through the ship, and I managed to shoot one. Lucky gets bit though, then he gets acid on him and we had to cut a hole in his suit, then he gets bit again – what is it with that guy and things wanting to murder him? We only have so many patch kits and we’re running out fast.

At one pucker moment one of those tardbiscuits leapt at me, and let’s just say I was thankful I was still constipated because I would have had an unexpected payload in my suit. It missed but it was close.

At the center of the ship we run into… well, let’s just call him Bulletsponge. You know those action movies where the bad guys are pouring fire at the good guys but never seeming to hit? That in reverse. This little buttmuncher just wouldn’t die. We finally got it locked in a hatch before it trashed all of our suits.

A bit more running around and deciding what to do, but we eventually found the data logs.

There are times in one’s life when you’re forced to do something that scares the shit out of you. For scouts like these SAFCO guys it might be jumping out of an assault lander under heavy fire trying to secure a beachhead on some hot zone planet.

For bureaucrats like me, it’s submitting an ASTAS/IQA Form 6. What is a ASTAS/IQA Form 6? It’s a Red Zone alert to the Imperial Quarantine Agency for their Animal & Sophont Threat Analysis Service. You do not ever submit a ASTAS/IQA Form 6 lightly and this will be the first one in my entire career.

The only time I saw one it was part of the aftermath of a quarantine action during an insurance investigation. An entire planet under quarantine edict was scrubbed to the bedrock by orbital bombardment. The insurance was regarding psychological counseling for half of the crew on the imperial dreadnought that executed the eight billion sophonts that lived on that world. Fuck me that was a tough one to get through.

After watching the logs, there is a very real and existential threat to the imperium. These bugs apparently are a genetic mistake that turned them into a planet scrubbing plague. This alien ship was one of an unknown number of automated sub-light colony ships sent out into the universe, and which may or may not be carrying these dipshits.

I’ll be effectively submitting an execution order on the last survivors of an entire species. I’ll write it up so the SAFCO guys are the heroes but for me, for a long while I’ll be back on the sleep aids.

InStarSpec is going to be pissed. We’re getting paid for doing the survey, not ensuring that they can get any benefit from the survey. Sucks to be them.

 

IY6026.305
Personal Log – Caliban Tisk
Volunteer Bureaucratic Facilitator (SAFCO)

A lot of idiots think that if you find some derelict ship in a decaying orbit out in the middle of nowhere, they can just seize it and call it finder’s keepers. It doesn’t work that way. If you find or bring that ship into Imperial space, it’s owned by the Imperium and the best you can do is get them to pay you some of the value of it for its recovery. Without a proper claim, then the moment the Imperium takes an interest, they’ll order the seizure of the ship and give the crying fartnuggets who just lost their prize the middle finger.

So, apparently we found a derelict alien ship floating around this hellhole. If this thing turns out to be legitimate salvage, then there’s a lot of work to be done.

Claiming salvage is a kind of legal action filed with the Imperial Admiralty Court and requires three pieces of proof; Voluntary service when not required, peril in recovery, and success in the recovery. Already the first two are good to go. 1) we aren’t responding to a mayday so we aren’t required to come to the ship’s aid and 2) the ship is tumbling which makes it perilous to recover. Not sure how we’re going to pull off 3 yet.

The only real snag is whether there’s any aliens still aboard the ship or it’s owned by someone else. This can still result in compensation for rescue but if they don’t have relations with the Imperium then it gets a bit more dicey. I’m taking meticulous notes on expenses, and of course peril, during this recovery operation which could result in restitution by the Imperium regardless of the outcome.

This is probably going to require some legal help from Palazar & Tythis. Those guys love the sound of their own muffin holes flapping but they get the job done.

It’s time to suit up and see what’s over there. There’s no way this is going to turn into a crapfest, right?

IY6026.305
Personal Log – Caliban Tisk
Volunteer Bureaucratic Facilitator (SAFCO)

While we’re maneuvering to some weird space ship in orbit, I’ve got about an hour so I think it’s time to start working the magic. First on the list: Life Insurance for Flint, Lucky, Roger, and Barney

Veterans to the Scout Service are looked at as just dried up husks that are of no more use and just need to be mulched. The Veteran Administration are the pimpledicks that drive the mulcher. They pretend there’s limited benefits, kick the poor bastards to the curb, and rely on the fact that most scouts are dimwit enlisted that don’t know they’re getting screwed or have any clue how to fight it.

The real trick to dealing with those pricks is deluging them with uncontestable forms that give them the tough choice of spending weeks trying to figure out how to weasel out of providing benefits or just take the lazy route and give up and approve everything. Guess what the inept desk jockey who just wants to clock in and out, stuff his face with the snack room’s Little Reddy Sugar Buns, and collect a paycheck would do? I also just happen to know which offices have the biggest snack rooms.

So here we go, for each of them we need:

SGLVISS-198 Application for Insurance Reinstatement Form
These guys probably were denied insurance once they retired and never fought to get it back. Since they’re veterans, there is actually no limit to the gap between coverage so it can be reinstated at any time.

SGLVISS-7774 Beneficiary Designation Form
Need to set the beneficiaries of the policies, and guess what – they’re each beneficiaries of each other’s policies.

SGLVISS-9880 Traumatic Scout Service Group Life Insurance Rider
Time to turn Lucky’s trauma in particular into a bureaucratic fusion bomb. When the adjuster takes one look at his list of injuries and gawk at the pictures I’ll take, their goose is cooked. I’ll contact my psychologist friend to give us a backlogged series of psychological trauma sessions (with receipts) where poor, poor Lucky has been fighting terrible PTSD, chronic pain, and social persecution everywhere he goes for the devastating injuries he suffered while in the scout service.

VISS-14-355EZ Application For SVA Disability Compensation
Then filling out this form I’ll gather up the receipts for the purchase of the Autodoc as a necessary pain management device and not only should we get full reimbursement from the ISSVA for the Autodoc, but also a monthly stipend for continued psychological treatment as well as waiving any fees for his continued life insurance policy. My friend is very expensive after all, and really likes getting kickbacks. I should check to see if I can register Fardt as a physical therapist for pain management and get his “fees” reimbursed as well, and set up SAFCO as a hired transportation service, which also needs reimbursement, to take him to and from the monthly psychological treatment appointments.

298-11002e Authorization To Disclose Personal Information To A Third Party
Of course we’ll have to give my friend authority to send his own supporting documentation and medical reports independently and entirely iron clad.

55-7872 Application For Conversion (from term life insurance to permanent life insurance)
Then, since we likely don’t care about having term life insurance, since the ISSVA will be paying for it all by the time I’m done with them, we’ll convert the insurance to a permanent form of life insurance which will last until everyone dies.

I should have all this ready to go once we get back to civilization…

IY6026.305
Personal Log – Caliban Tisk
Contracted Administrative Facilitator (InStarSpec)

Back in orbit now, after most of the crew decided to make another brief excursion on that shitball planet. Would I want to revisit my luxurious island resort? Maybe I could lie in my old makeshift bed looking across the beautiful water, reminiscing with Chucklenuts about the fun times we had over a freshly steaming bag of Garblax Haggis. FUCK NO. I stayed on the ship for OBVIOUS reasons.

At least Barney had the good sense to think that was a terrible idea.

I found out they’re actually incorporated: SAFCO – Super Adventure Friends Company. That’s when the skies opened and the heavenly host of bureaucratic opportunities descended into my briefcase. Once I clean up their Articles Of Incorporation, because without even looking I know the shyster that did it filled them out with a crayon, I can really get to work.

Some say the pen in mightier than the sword. I owe these guys my life. Once I’m back in my element, I’ll be bringing the bureaucratic equivalent of an orbital bombardment cannon to that sword fight.

Almost time to do the burn to leave orbit. If they have second thoughts about leaving and want to dive back down to that shitpit, I swear their next provisions purchase is going to end up being one thing, and one thing only…

IY6026.305
Personal Log – Caliban Tisk
Contracted Administrative Facilitator (InStarSpec)

I’m honestly not sure what I was expecting once I got aboard their ship. Maybe that they were going to end up being a group of washed up ex-scout mercs flying around in a dilapidated garbage scow that’s one jump away from becoming a debris field.

What I was not expecting was a pimped out sensor suite like they’d mugged a stellar survey ship in some dark alley. That array could take pictures faster than a paparazzi at a senator’s rager once the clothes come off. Finishing the survey was a breeze.

With high dollar upgrades like this though I clearly need to talk to these guys about their insurance situation. I’m going to go out on a limb and guess they haven’t really thought about that sort of crap.

So, first impressions of the crew…

Flint – Real pro soldier type, I’m not sure but I’d guess he was an officer in the scouts. It’s the little things; always seeming like he’s puffing out his chest a bit, sits a little too straight in his chair, movements measured and precise, steady even voice. I can see him calmly explaining to you the mistakes you made while he’s got his knee on your neck and your arm twisted up like a balloon animal.

Lucky – Seems to be a nice guy, but that face… yikes. Really feels like he looks out for his crew, and probably took a particle cannon to the face (or five) fighting for them. I think I understand the nickname.

Roger – Clearly an experienced pilot and a true master at the controls. He’d be the new prince of Silub if he ran his fingers over Ooglugh like that. I wonder how much he likes slime. Not sure what’s up with the goggles fashion statement but as they say dress for the job you want.

Barney – Haven’t talked to him much yet. He seems to be the techy engineer guy of the group and pretty level-headed. I think he’s the one running mission control and keeps the ship repaired.

Fart? – Real unfortunate name, not sure how it’s supposed to be spelled. I really don’t want to be shouting that across a bar, I wonder how he’d feel if I just started calling him “handball” or something. He’s a gluck. I’m not exactly sure what his deal is and I haven’t talked to him much yet – plucky sidekick maybe?

Holy garblax haggis, I just realized these guys are the embodiment of “Super S-Team”! Four scouts; Frank Fighterson their fearless commander, Meatshield Matheson the muscle with a heart of gold, Ace Ackerman the crazy pilot, and Tech Sergeant Templeton Tam master mechanic, plus their sidekick droid Veetveet.

…And this episode’s citizen in distress played by yours truly. My life has become a trope.

Well, I’ve spent the last few hours finishing off the survey paperwork. Time to see what the crew plans for next.

IY6026.305
Personal Log – Caliban Tisk
Contracted Administrative Facilitator (InStarSpec)

Where to begin… I had fallen into a regular schedule. Get up in the morning, grab some water from the recycler and wash out last night’s haggis bag which serves as my morning coffee. What, you don’t think a spicy, sulphury, ashy-rancid-chicken-like flavor in the morning won’t wake you up?

Then I flip on the sensor for a minute and send out a mayday on the radio. This morning, like every morning before, there was nothing, so I walked outside of the launch and looked across the water at Chucklenuts. One of the bugs seems to loiter around there the whole time I’ve been here and so I gave him a name. As is my routine, I flip him off and shout an insult.

The next few hours are spent either banging on something in the launch, zapping my fingers trying to get the navigation system fixed, or lying in bed thinking about how much I wanted one of those Gluck-ee’s BBQ Brisket zip packs.
While I was imagining the smell of BBQ instead of the smell wafting from the Spiced Garblax Haggis ration heating up, there was a bit of commotion from shore. I thought it was that odd signal again but I flipped on the radio and nothing. I flipped on the sensor and after a moment it started beeping. It was beeping!

I didn’t know what it meant, but numbers were flying across the screen and that meant something was out there. Well to cut a long story short, rescue did come!

I got picked up by this group of ex-scouts in a modified type-a. They don’t seem to be the murder-y type so I think I’m safe, though one of them has seen some shit. I mean, a lot of shit. Like, holy shit how is this guy still alive after diving head first through a class-7 industrial salvage muncher?

God, I wish I had him backing me up when I was dealing with those six-armed yeti dickwads on Traparian III. Those butt pimples only respect one thing; badassness, and this guy’s got it in spades. They’d have never dared to stab him in the shoulder.

Side note: They might need a 1442 with a mass allotment rider if the modifications take the ship over the 200 ton limit for insurance purposes. I saw some twin laser turrets too, which depending on the megawatt output it might be best to file a 8/98L-EE hazardous exploration exemption to avoid any issues with law enforcement.

I told them about the survey clause, and in about an hour we’ll reach the orbital node needed to make the inclination change necessary for the survey. Currently taking a little rest in a stateroom, and realizing I left that zip pack of haggis on the island.

IY6026.304
Personal Log – Caliban Tisk
Contracted Administrative Facilitator (InStarSpec)

Had a brief moment of hope during my last radio cycle, the sensor pinged for just a moment. It didn’t give me any telemetry but it did something. I don’t know what it meant. Maybe a ship entered the system? Is the sensor in this thing sensitive enough to detect something like that? Curse my higher education that never touched on actually having practical hands-on skills!

Am I starting to like this Garblax Haggis? What is wrong with me? I don’t think I’ve pooped in two days, that stuff gives me terrible constipation. Probably too much information to put into a report but so what, I’m reaching the end of my rope anyway. Just a few days away until I start making really stupid decisions.

I thought about maybe figuring out a way to pump more power into the radio to boost its signal for longer range. If I swap the transformer to the antenna with a higher power one I pulled from one of the grav plates it might work. Remember, not an electrician. It also might fry the antenna and instantly drain the battery too which is why I haven’t tried it. I could also turn myself into a charcoal briquette. I think my hand twitched in agreement. I’ll treat that as the emergency last resort option.