Follow the dialogue, inspect the available options and move between connected scenes.
Dialogue follows the supplied game text. The listed choices include alternate and expansion scenes; the archive does not simulate your save or certify that every route is reachable.
You see a posting on a market board: 'WILL TRADE: a ship that has never been flown for a ship that has never been docked. Serious inquiries only.' The coordinates are strange — halfway between two systems, in deep space. No station should be there. You check your charts. Correct — there is no station there.
You jump to the coordinates and find — a ship. Old. Larger than any trader ship you've seen. Its hull is covered in items visible through windows: goods, crates, living plants, running machines. A voice crackles over your radio. 'Finally. Someone arrived. Come aboard. I have been here for two weeks waiting. I will make it worth your time.'
A man greets you. He is old. His eyes are wrong — pupils rotate slightly even when his head is still. 'Welcome! I am a merchant. I sell inventory from timelines that do not exist. You want a coat that belonged to a famous general who died at birth? Have one. A book written by a man who never learned to write? Here. A song sung by a woman who was never born? I can hum a bar.' He spreads his hands. 'What will you give me for this one-of-a-kind selection?'
He lays items out. 'The Timeline Edge Coat — worn by a pilot who died before this war began, in a timeline that was pruned. Gives +20% resistance to damage. Three hundred credits.' He points. 'The Unbirthed Map — a star chart drawn by an astronomer who was never conceived. Reveals five hidden systems. Five thousand credits.' He leans in. 'A Whisper — one word that was not said in a conversation that did not happen. Consume it and one random decision you will make today will come out the way you want. Two hundred credits. Warning: it still feels like free will.'
I pause. Oh. You're one of the ones who asks. I sit down. I walk backwards through the pruned branches. I find what did not survive and I bring it forward. Elder Sera do not like me. The Rift does not notice me. I am nobody and I am every dead trader who might have been. I smile. I have been selling for forty years. In the branch I came from, I was a tailor. I was very bad at it. Now I am somehow this. I shrug. Want a coat?
