Those Taken in the Black (Pt. 1)
A Spacestein Story and After Action Report
Jasper Kane stepped off the shuttle and into the brittle light of URF Station’s concourse. The place smelled of old antiseptic and the stale tang of recycled air. He paused just inside the customs arch, letting the noise wash over him: voices, the hum of cargo lifters, the metallic snap of doors opening and closing.
A man waited by the checkpoint, tall and hollow-eyed in a dark uniform. His badge read Marshal Garrick Stone, though he didn’t bother with introductions. He looked at the line of disembarking passengers the way a butcher might study a pen of livestock, measuring, sorting.
“Listen up,” Stone said. His voice carried, flat and certain. “URF Station is neutral ground. No firearms permitted. You carry one, you hand it over now. Blades you can keep for defense, if you’re fool enough to draw them without cause, you’ll answer for it.”
Jasper didn’t move. He had no gun to surrender. Just a pack with his few belongings, and the quiet readiness he’d carried out of the service like an old scar.
Stone let his gaze sweep the concourse again. “We have casualties needing examination. Anyone with certified medical training, step forward.”
The others shifted, uneasy. Jasper stepped out of line. “Army medical,” he said. “Three terms. Field triage, trauma response.”
Beside him, another man moved. Thin, pale, a pressed suit that tried too hard to look important. Gustav Fehlinger. Jasper knew the type: the bureaucrat who’d never seen a casualty that wasn’t entered first into a ledger.
“I vill assist,” Fehlinger said.
Stone gave a nod. He turned and started down the main corridor without looking back.
Jasper followed. The station felt tired; the lights were too bright, the air too thin, and the hush of men trying not to be noticed.
They walked the main corridor in silence. Signs marked each junction LOW BERTHS, MEDICAL, LAB ACCESS, letters stenciled in black on white panels that had yellowed with age.
Marshal Stone stopped by a pressure door labeled MEDICAL. He keyed it open, and the hatch irised back with a pneumatic hiss.
The air inside was purged just enough to smell almost clean. Almost.
Rows of low berths lined two walls, coffin-like capsules with frost-misted lids. A separate partition framed the medical lab itself: counters, sealed cabinets, recessed overhead lights that threw a stark brightness over everything they touched. Along the rear bulkhead, three gurneys had been arranged in a neat line, each draped in pale polymer sheets.
Fehlinger stepped in first. His gaze flicking across the room. He crossed to the central console and began tapping commands. Lab equipment powered up, machine by machine.
Stone nodded to the bodies without ceremony. “Three miners,” he said to Jasper. “No sign of struggle. No witnesses admitting anything.”
“I understand,” Jasper said. His voice felt smaller in the cold light.
Fehlinger’s gloved hands worked methodically. “I vill prepare ze remains,” he said. “Preliminary scans first.”
Stone scanned the manifest on the console screen, then looked up. “The other doctor. Fearthing. Where is he?”
Fehlinger’s mouth pulled tight. “Probably in ze passenger lounge.”
Stone grunted. “You handle this.”
Fehlinger nodded, turning back to the console.
Jasper watched the gurneys a moment longer. He could see the outline of limbs beneath the drapes.
Stone was already moving again. Jasper followed, boots quiet on the deck, the cold air lingering on his skin.
Behind them, Fehlinger worked alone as he began his scans.
They retraced their steps along the main corridor, past the low berths with their frost-rimed lids. The deck plates creaked under Stone’s measured stride.
Jasper kept pace, saying nothing. You gathered your tools, you gathered your people, and you did the work no one else wanted.
The lounge sat just off the junction, tucked behind a sliding partition of smoked glass. Inside, soft light pooled over too many chairs and too little space. A vending unit purred to itself in the corner.
Dr. Reginald Fearthing stood near the dispenser, cup in hand, his coat a patchwork of colors that looked obscene against the drab walls. He turned as they entered, one brow lifting high in a show of polite surprise.
“Marshal,” Fearthing said. “I wondered how long it would take you to locate someone qualified.” His gaze moved over Jasper and dismissed him in the span of a heartbeat.
Stone didn’t bother answering. “You’re needed,” he said.
Fearthing exhaled. He set the cup aside without finishing it. “Very well. Though I trust the administrator has done nothing too…” He paused, searching for the word. “…improvisational.”
“He’s preparing the remains,” Stone said flatly.
Fearthing made a small noise that might have been amusement. “Of course he is.”
Jasper met the doctor’s stare without blinking. He knew the look, he’d seen it in every theater, every command tent. A man who believed the work belonged to him by default.
They left the lounge together, Fearthing adjusting the fall of his coat with deliberate care. He walked a half-step behind Stone, ignoring Jasper entirely.
The med bay was bright with overhead strips, every corner stripped of shadow. Fehlinger stood at the console, sleeves rolled, his eyes on the monitors.
When they entered, he looked up, expression as flat as the deck plating. “Doctor,” he said. “Preparation is complete.”
Fearthing made no reply. He crossed to the first gurney, gloved hand hovering over the drape, savoring the moment like a man about to demonstrate something.
Marshal Stone paused near the hatch, arms folded. “You have what you need?”
Fearthing didn’t look up. “Yes.”
Stone nodded, then turned to Jasper. “File your observations when you’re done.”
Without waiting for a response, he stepped back into the corridor. A moment later, a uniformed guard took his place by the hatch.
Fearthing lifted the drape. The corpse was a man, middle-aged, with no visible trauma, skin the sick pallor of circulatory failure.
“Clamp and retract,” Fearthing said, gesturing to Jasper without looking at him.
Jasper moved to the side, hands finding the clamps by instinct. The incision opened in a clean line. Dark fluid welled up, slow and thick.
“Observe the saturation,” Fearthing said softly, almost to himself. “A stimulant-based toxin. Refined. Potent enough for immediate cardiac arrest.”
Fehlinger moved closer, tablet ready. “Injected?”
“Most likely,” Fearthing murmured. “Ingestion is possible but less reliable.”
Jasper studied the tissue, something tightening in his gut. He had seen poisons, overdoses, combat chems, but this looked too deliberate. He kept his voice even. “Any idea which compound?”
Fearthing’s smile was a cold flicker. “Not without assay. But I would wager on a synthetic derivative of adrenaline boosters used in combat. The sort that finds its way into certain…markets.”
They moved to the next body. The second incision told the same story: saturation in every organ, the same dull, suffocating wrongness.
The third was no different.
When it was done, Fearthing stripped off his gloves with a slow precision, each motion measured and final.
“A poison,” he said to no one in particular. “Nothing more to see.”
Fehlinger looked almost pleased, as if the clarity of the explanation settled something.
Jasper peeled off his own gloves, feeling the cold of the med bay creep back into his hands. He glanced at the guard by the door, who hadn’t moved, hadn’t spoken.
Stone was gone. The report would be filed, the bodies would be logged, and no one would ask questions Fearthing didn’t want to answer.
But some truths you couldn’t bury under paperwork. Some truths waited, patient as the dead, for someone willing to look.
When Fearthing finally swept out, Fehlinger followed him, tablet in hand. The guard stayed by the hatch, watching Jasper without interest.
Jasper stood alone for a moment, listening to the silence settle back over the room. The bodies waited under their shrouds, still as freight. He drew a slow breath and turned to the console.
The interface blinked a patient prompt: INPUT FINDINGS -- ASSOCIATE MEDICAL.
He keyed in his credentials, fingers moving with deliberate care. He noted what he’d observed: organ saturation, circulatory collapse, no sign of struggle or self-administration. He wrote the words as plainly as he could, resisting the urge to dress them up or soften them.
Nothing in the record claimed certainty. Just what the cuts had shown him.
He finished, double-checked the file, and signed off with the small signature block that still felt strange: KANE, J. / LT COL (RET).
The console beeped its acknowledgment, and the report vanished into the station’s records like it had never been written.
Jasper stripped off the last of the gloves, dropping them in the disposal. He flexed his hands once, then stepped out into the corridor.
The hatch sighed shut behind him, sealing the smell of disinfectants and failure inside.
For a while, he walked without any real direction, following the numbered stencils along the walls: STORAGE, LABS, ENGINEERING, MARSHALS OFFICE, until the tension in his shoulders began to ease.
He turned a corner near a strip of vending alcoves and found the noise first: voices, too loud, spilling out into the passage. Laughter, the scrape of a chair, the hollow clink of a bottle tapping metal.
A familiar shape leaned back in one of the plastic seats, boots propped on a crate. The same grin Jasper remembered from too many barracks, too many bad decisions.
Vickers
Spacestein: A New Adventure Awaits
I couldn’t wait to jump into Traveller Spacestein. Having loved Bdubs’ Moonstein Re-stilled, with its quirky sci-fi vibes and memorable moments.
I was eager for more. When Joshua offered me a spot in another Traveller Spacestein game, I didn’t hesitate to sign up.
Lets take a look at Jasper Kane:
Jasper Kane was born on a quiet, backwater world where the stars felt closer than opportunity. A studious kid with a knack for excelling in structured environments, Jasper’s high education (Education 9) set him apart, though his average strength and endurance (Strength 5, Endurance 5) and unremarkable social presence (Social 6) kept him grounded. His dexterity (Dexterity 8), honed on his school’s shooting team, gave him a slight edge, but it was his sharp mind and wanderlust that drove him. Trapped on a planet with little to offer beyond labs or corporate drudgery, Jasper craved the galaxy. The Navy was for the elite, the Marines too brutal, and the Merchants too chaotic. The Army, with its clear hierarchy and advanced training opportunities, felt like school—a place where his discipline and grades could shine.
At 18, Jasper enlisted, his coordination and stamina just enough to impress the recruiter (rolled 8 with Dex +1, Endurance +2). The Army welcomed him, and he survived his first term (rolled 8 with Education +2), seeing combat as a medic. His training in rifle (Rifle-1) and submachine gun (SMG-1) made him competent, but it was his cool-headedness patching up soldiers under fire that earned him a commission as a Lieutenant (rolled 5). Boot camp also toughened him up (Strength +1 to 6), and he learned dagger combat (Dagger-1), a skill for close-quarters survival. His professionalism shone when he led a mission to retrieve wounded from an active battlefield, earning him a promotion to Captain (rolled 7 with Education +1) and advanced training in medical skills (Medical-1) and leadership (Leader-1). At 22, Jasper was a glorified ambulance medic with a knack for command, and he reenlisted, eager to grow.
His second term (age 22–26) saw more action, which he survived (rolled 7 with Education +1). Now a leader, Jasper’s battlefield decisions earned him a promotion to Major (rolled 7 with Education +1). The Army’s conditioning further strengthened him (Strength +1 to 7), and his leadership skills deepened (Leader-2), though his hope for more medical training was sidelined by his combat utility. At 26, he reenlisted again, driven by ambition and a lingering desire to pivot toward medicine.
In his third term (age 26–30), Jasper’s star rose higher. He survived intense campaigns (rolled 8 with Education +2) and led a unit that saved a naval captain whose ship was obliterated in orbit (rolled 12+1=13 for promotion). This heroism earned him a spot on the general staff as a Lt. Colonel and advanced training in tactics (Tactics-1) and computers (Computer-1) to run simulations and boost efficiency. Working alongside doctors reignited his passion for medicine, but at 30, his career hit a wall. The war ended, and the Army, no longer needing a surplus of officers, deemed Jasper redundant (failed reenlistment). With his benefits—high passage to any world, 35,000 credits, and boosted education from training (Education +2 to 11)—he was cut loose.
Disillusioned but resolute, Jasper saw a new path. His medical training (Medical-1) was a start, but he wanted to become a full-fledged doctor, as a wandering physician he wouldn't have to worry about getting struck with no prospects. He set his sights on a reputable medical school on a distant planet, one known for training doctors who serve frontier worlds. But Jasper, ever the wanderer, wasn’t ready to settle yet. The galaxy called, and he chose a circuitous route, planning to visit a few planets to sate his wanderlust before committing to years of study. With his high passage ticket and credits, he booked a series of starship passages, aiming to explore vibrant worlds and backwater outposts alike.