2y4m2w Before Vancouver
Corti Vessel
Sharon Kwolek
Again.
Those damn bastards grabbed her again. Twelve years ago she had been taken. She had been poked and prodded. She had been studied and experimented on. But she had not been passive, oh no. A quick struggle, a few broken bones, and a promise to behave yielded access to a datapad for the duration of her stay.
So she learned. She learned about galactic politics. She learned about technology, and the purer sciences. Immediately after being released, she chose her path. Honorary Caltech professor of Applied Quantum Theory. It didn’t matter that she had no formal training. One paper on quark flavor manipulation written using knowledge gained from the smuggled datapad was all it took to secure her position. Several papers later, she became famous among her peers. Each paper she wrote pushed the cutting edge of human knowledge. Eventually, as she began to run low on groundbreaking material, she began to publish more speculative works. One particularly dubious paper discussing applications of sub-absolute zero iron fusion pushed just slightly too far. Her previous works were scrutinized. All but the first few were found to have significant gaps in their logic, with many later papers contained outright fabrication. Disgraced, she abandoned her position, changed her name, and fled to a small town in Idaho, gaining employ in a local community college.
And then the damn Corti took her again.
She woke up on a familiar bed, in a familiar room, with a familiar scrawny gray alien standing next to her. At least it looked like it was a different Corti this time. “Corti, achieve translator. We talk.” she said in what she thought was passable Cortan. She had made excellent use of the datapad.
The Corti blinked. “You speak Cortan?”
“Little much. Take me time two.”
“Impossible. Your name (word) (word) in our (word) list.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Name modified. Achieve translator.”
The Corti blinked again, before turning and leaving the room.
She waited for several minutes. Her restraints gave her just enough room to drum her fingers on the table.
The Corti returned. He carried a small translation device that broadcast his words in English. “Sharon Kwolek, or shall I call you Elizabeth Monroe?”
“I go by Sharon these days.”
“Hmm. Figures. All the effort spent to find an intellectual that would not be missed, nor trusted upon return. I suppose a former subject such as yourself would predictably best meet the stated requirements.”
“Intellectual?”
“Yes… a human that manages to exhibit proper use of that primitive… thing… rattling around in that skull of yours.”
Sharon grunted in amusement. “So, what do you want from me this time?”
The Corti paused before responding. “Cognitive testing. We have a robust baseline for the uneducated masses. I seek to study the capabilities of a human at the other end of the spectrum. Unfortunately, instead I have you.”
“Well fuck you too buddy.”
The Corti squinted just slightly. “I have no interest in interspecies fornication. Why do so many humans insist on asking?”
Sharon chuckled dryly. “You all have the same exquisite wit.”
The Corti blinked slowly. “Humans…” He spent a moment observing her more carefully. “I have found that non-sapients will often be… hesitant to optimally perform mental activities while under duress. Under normal circumstances, such a subject would be forced into a simulated paradise. Unfortunately, humans have proven rather resistant to such fabrications. As such, I have prepared accommodations suitable for one of your kind. If you comply with my orders, I will grant you access to these accommodations. Will you comply?”
Sharon thought on this a moment. The Corti were meticulous and dispassionate. There would likely be little reason to resist. It would be far more useful to bide her time, waiting for an opportune moment. “Yes… within reason.”
The Corti again blinked. “Acceptable. When the restraints are released, proceed through that door and enter the second room on the left.” He left the room.
With a slight hiss, her restraints were released. She rubbed her wrists and cracked more than a few joints as she stood. The door lead to a hallway with only one other door open. With a shrug, she entered the room. It was clearly sized for something much larger than her. An enormous bed, chair and table sat in the room, with a coloring book and crayons sitting on the table. Cute. As she entered, the door slammed behind her with a hiss. “Hey, buddy, I left my datapad on Earth, can you get me another one?” She paced back and forth. Even though she would certainly be under constant observation, she had her doubts that her request would be fulfilled. “What about food? You got anything to eat?” A few seconds later, a small wall-mounted fixture caught here eye as an iridescent glow surrounded it. She walked over to the device in question and opened a small door, revealing a spigot and tray. Sitting on a tray were a few grey dough balls and what appeared to be a small pile of mushrooms. “Thanks.” She took a bite out of the sphere. It tasted like…nothing. The mushrooms were a little better.
After finishing the mushrooms and the remains of the sampled sphere, she studied her accommodations more closely. Table, chair, bed, food, and one other door. It must be… yep, restroom. She took a seat at the table, rolled her fingers against it as she thought. With nothing better to do, she grabbed the crayons and began to sketch a few ideas she had been playing around with but had never found the time to explore.
After a few minutes her door opened. “Please proceed to the room on the left.” With a resigned shrug, she complied. Entering the hall, she noted that, again, only one door was open. This room was much more sparsely furnished, consisting of only a chair, a touchscreen monitor, and a complicated-looking device with several wires leading off of it. “Sit and don the apparatus. In the interest of managing your human skepticism, I wish to inform you that the apparatus will not impair your neural functions in any way. It is a monitoring device that only uses output signals to aid in tracing signal pathing. There is nothing to worry about. In addition, the previous statements are intended to induce calm, and in no way intend to induce a negative emotional state. Thank you for your cooperation.”
Sharon rolled her eyes as she sat. These guys were supposed to be the smart ones. Cautiously, she lifted the curiously lightweight machine off of its stand and hesitantly donned it. The helmet felt… odd. Nothing seemed wrong… yet something was wrong, just not in any way she was able to place. Something… fuzzy or noisy, as if her mind was a slightly mistuned radio. Whatever, lets get this over with. If she ended up with Turbocancer or some other bullshit, she’d deal with it later… somehow.
After several hours of tedium, Sharon re-entered her temporary abode and sat down at the table. A datapad sat next to the coloring books on the table. She let out an amused grunt and spoke with a healthy mix of sarcasm and reluctant gratitude. “Awww, you do care.” She began browsing the contents of her new device. As she navigated through the submenus, she noticed something rather interesting; This datapad’s menu structure was much more densely populated than the pad she had possessed during her previous abduction. As she explored further, her hopes were vindicated. After years of studying the same information over and over, she finally had new content to explore! She dove into the new material, forgetting all about the hours spent humoring the Corti with their trivial puzzles and games.
The next several days all blurred into one. Wake, test, eat, sleep. Day after day, the same routine over and over again. Some tests were conducted via the monitor, some face to face -albeit with a barred gate between her and her captors. Logic puzzles, spatial observations, memory tests and her personal favorite: reasoning challenges.
The inductive and deductive tests were alarmingly simplistic. Grab an object, put it in your pocket. Where is it? You see a damaged vehicle and a damaged building. What happened? The lights cut out and something soft taps your face. The lights come back on and you find a Corti sitting beside you, nursing her injured hand. What happened? Sharon was too busy laughing to repay the assault in kind.
As the Corti became more frustrated with her successes, the tests became more facile and ridiculous. A shovel, hoe and rake sit on open ground. What are they building? Why does a sink emit water rather than consume it? She made a game out of answering the questions before they were even asked. Even though the Corti were rather subdued with their emotional responses, she could still tell that it frustrated her captors to no end.
The Corti had at least had the decency of providing her more entertainment, though probably only as part of their whole ‘keep the human brain comfortable’ plan. Regardless, she now was in possession of a newish version of a Gameboy or whatever it was called these days, likely taken from a previous abductee. Her monster collection grew day by day.
Several weeks into her imprisonment, just as she was preparing for bed, a violet light began to flash accompanied by a pleasant pulsing hum.
A Corti voice spoke from a speaker on the wall. “Human… Sharon, we have been engaged by pirate forces. Everyone on this ship will die unless you stop them.”
Sharon stopped a moment to think. The Corti were holding her captive, why should she help them? The ship shuddered and the lights winked out momentarily.
The Corti continued. “That includes you. They will leave no witnesses.”
The door to her room opened and two unfamiliar Corti armed with pulse pistols and shield harnesses beckoned her. With a shrug, she followed them. One of them handed her a harness.
“What am I supposed to do without a weapon?” She asked one of her two captors.
The Corti nearly broke his infallible composure. “You are a human.” He continued walking briskly down the hall as he spoke. “Rip them apart, crush them with your head, or perhaps melt them with your eyes alone. Anything you do will suffice.”
The three of them turned a corner. Sharon instinctively held her breath as she surveyed the scene in front of her. A few dead pirates and several dead Corti lay strewn around the room. Most disturbing, however, was the wide open door in front of her. Open to space. It took her only a moment to recover from the shock. I’m breathing air. They obviously have a forcefield containing the atmosphere.
The few seconds she spent gawking at the gaping opening was more than enough time for her presence to be noticed. Several bipedal crustacean/amphibian things turned to her and began to fire their pulse rifles. Her shield took a few hits and failed.
One of the Corti spoke, remarkably calm under the circumstances. “Human, you must evade.”
Sharon saw wisdom in those words after she took a took a painful pulse burst to her chest. She dove behind an overturned hovercart. As she watched, one of her escorts was torn apart by pulse-fire. She reached out and grabbed the fallen alien’s weapon before quickly ducking back behind her cover.
The other Corti called out to her and he ducked behind a wall. “That will not work for you human. You are not an authorized sophant. Other humans have been known to be skilled with improvised weapons. There is a pile of debris to your right.”
Sharon turned to the indicated location. It was… debris. Just a pile or twisted struts and bent sheet panels. But, lacking any other option, she searched briefly and extracted a short length of pole. Sharon took a quick glance over her barricade. There were three living frogmen left, all of them were focused on the Corti, rapidly closing the gap between them. Just inside the hangar’s door lay a ramp connected to another ship. The path to that ship lay unguarded… for some reason. She took a few hesitant steps out from her cover, then, seeing no response, took off running towards the other ship. On a ship of this fragility, this action was not as quiet as she had hoped. Two of the frogmen turned to her. Seizing the distraction, the lone remaining Corti gunman felled the only pirate still focused on him. The two remaining frogmen did not like that one bit, charging the Corti’s position in response.
Sharon made it to the pirate ship unmolested, though her last remaining escort was now very, very dead. The two remaining frogmen called out to her, the language they spoke unrecognizable. They hastily abandoned their invasion of the Corti vessel to reclaim their own. Sharon ran deeper into the pirate’s ship. She quickly glanced around for any weapon she could find, finding nothing more useful than the alloy stick she carried.
Taking a deep breath, she moved towards the side of the ship’s entrance, readying her weapon. The two frogmen loped in. Sharon held her breath, waiting for them to pass by. Maybe she could sneak past them?
No, no luck there. One of them paused to sniff the air. Before he could turn to face her, his face broke out in a severe case of disfigurement. A few pulse shots were fired from his weapon as he fell, but none hit anything important; She remained untouched. The remaining frogman began yelling into a datapad, glancing at her as he spoke. He raised his pulse rifle and began to steady it against himself. Oh… right. The gun and pole both exploded in a shower of debris. Sharon flinched slightly, as she was showered with low velocity shrapnel. The frogman screamed, clutching his shattered hand. There was no time to hesitate. Sharon took a quick step forward to get into range, then opened up with an embarrassing, yet effective, right hook. The frogman flew into a bulkhead of the pirate vessel. He did not stand back up.
Sharon stood still, carefully watching and listening for any further surprises. Not hearing any, she grabbed the remaining pulse rifle and walked carefully back towards the Corti vessel. As she approached a fallen Corti, a familiar voice called out over the intercom, speaking in faltering English.
“Sharon… one remains.”
She took a step back, and glanced around. Seeing nothing for the moment, she inspected her weapon. Unfortunately, it had not adjusted to fit her grip. Not a good sign. She tried to fire it at a nearby froggy corpse. Damn, nothing; The Corti was right. A thought struck her as she approached the body. Would the frogmen -Chechens was it?- Would they have… yes. She pilfered a small fusion blade from the dead amphibian. One more of the pirates jogged around the corner, nearly running into her before stopping. After a short standoff, Sharon charged. The -ah yes, the Chehnasho- raised his rifle in response. Sharon was faster.
“…Sharon?” The intercom called, only seconds after the last pirate fell.
“I’m here.”
A moment later the replay came, in Cortan. “Search the [word]. Locate one of the translators, a grey [word] about [word] [word] long.”
Carefully, she wandered over to one of the fallen Corti and picked up a promising looking device. “Is this it?”
“Yes. Sharon, this ship is dead. There is not enough power left to operate the FTL. We must abandon ship. But before we do so, you require surgery. Meet me in the medical lab. Follow the lighted path.”
“I don’t like the sound of that, Corti. I will not be an experiment again.”
The Corti sighed, an unusually expressive emote for one such as he. “You must undergo the procedure. You are a Deathworder.”
“So I’ve read.”
“I do not know when you can be returned to Earth. For the sake of every living being in the galaxy, you must receive a microbial suppression implant. If you do not wish to have a translator implant, that is fine, but the inhibitor is non-negotiable.”
The Corti was right… shit. They must have used the anti-microbial injection. Out here in space, she would become a walking bioweapon within days without the implant. She let out a disgruntled sigh. “We’ll talk, Corti. I’m on my way.”
She entered the medical room. A voice called out over the intercom. “Sit in the chair, this will only take a moment.”
Sharon hesitated. “Where are you hiding? How can I trust you if you do not even have the courage show your face?”
The room was silent. Finally the Corti walked through the door. “I suppose at this point this… situation has progressed past the point of containment. It seems I have little choice but to risk my life, to protect all sapient life in the Dominion. You have my word that I will see you safely to civilization if you comply. Please, sit.”
Sharon sat in the chair. As soon as she sat, a needle pricked her neck and retracted as quickly as it appeared. How anticlimactic.
“It is done. If you wish, lie down for translator implantation.”
Sharon tried to read the Corti’s intentions, but found nothing in its blank expression. “No thanks, I’ll manage without.”
The Corti nodded. “As you wish. Is the pirate’s vessel intact?”
Sharon pondered a moment. “Yeah, it should be. Aside from a dent or two.”
“Then we must now complete what the pirates started. Salvage and abandon my ship.” He scanned the room nodding his head slowly.
“Hey, you never told me your name.”
“With good reason.” He paused a moment then, after a long blink of his eyes, continued. “My name is Guano, Blue-banner of the Corti Directorate.” He turned and hastily left the room.
Sharon carefully stifled a laugh and followed after him.
Under Guano’s direction, Sharon spent the next hour or so transferring equipment and supplies into the pirate’s vessel. Guano spent the time making adjustments and repairs to the pirate ship’s subsystems, including augmenting its equipment with their vastly superior equivalents from his own ship.
Sharon had just dropped an armful of nutrient spheres into an escape pod when the door slammed shut behind her. She dropped her cargo and turned to pound on the door. It was too late. The pod had left the craft.
A datapad strapped to the wall came to life. “Sharon-”
“You really are an asshole. You do know that right?”
The datapad was quiet for a moment. “I have a hypothesis that describes potential causes of your dismay. Rest assured, I shall honor my agreement to deliver you to safety.”
Sharon didn’t know if Guano could see her glaring at the datapad, but that didn’t stop her from trying. “I suppose this was your plan all along?”
“No, Sharon, even I did not prepare for this particular complication. My actions are merely a hastily derived contingency. While I am only alive because of your help, I will not allow myself to be in the presence of a human for any longer than absolutely necessary. Corti in that predicament have an alarming propensity of expiring in horrifically violent ways. Now, there are a number of tasks you must complete before you can safely leave. Open the lower locker to the left of the door.”
Lacking other options, she opened the door and rummaged through the components.
“There are two devices in there relevant to your current situation. Mount the emergency energy cell in the third slot from the left under the reactor. Replace the FTL drive with the one located in the specified compartment.”
Sharon did as he asked.
“Remarkable. Even under duress, you are able to logically resolve the predicament with only minimal guidance.” A short silence followed that statement. The Corti coughed and cleared his throat. “Yes… The craft you are aboard now has sufficient supplies and equipment to deliver you to Local Refueling Station within a suitable time frame. You must utilize stasis for, at minimum, eighty-seven percent of the fight’s duration to avoid exhausting your supplies.”
“I don’t see how any of this classifies as ‘safe’.”
The Corti continued, ignoring her protests. “I have provided all that is necessary to consider my agreement fulfilled. This datapad contains instructions for docking, as well as credentials necessary to classify this vessel as the Unremarkable Disappointment, a ship registered to you. I will remain briefly to answer a limited quantity of questions. Do you have any?”
Sharon shook her head. “No, I believe you have met all expectations I had when it comes to dealing with Corti.”
The radio went silent. With yet another sigh, Sharon engaged the FTL.
After a few seconds, the FTL disengaged. Sharon groaned before trying to hail Guano on the radio, to no avail. She then tried to engage the FTL a few more times, each attempt ended in failure. Oh, right, I never entered her destination. Annoyed at her lack of foresight, she began to scroll through the instructions on the datapad.
Sharon was interrupted by a voice on the radio. “Unremarkable Disappointment, this is Local Refueling Station. What is your business here?”
“Uh…” Sharon thought for a moment glancing around the capsule. “Re-supply?”
“Acknowledged. Do you require tractor assistance?”
Sharon paused a moment. “I’m going to go with… yes?”
The pod shuttered gently, apparently directed by an external hand. After a few minutes, the shuddering stopped with a final thud.
The radio spoke again. “Please transmit a list of supplies that you require.”
“I do not have a list prepared, I have yet to take inventory.”
“Very well. You are authorized to remain in bearth for 32 hours while you prepare a list. If you require additional time, please contact the dockmaster.”
“Thank you.”
The capsule went silent once again. Sharon quickly took stock of the supplies on board. Guano had been surprisingly generous, for a Corti. She had the handheld console, a second datapad, two additional translators and a number of other devices all packed neatly into a small carrying bag. Oh, and the pile of nutrient spheres she had been carrying. After another glance around the cabin, Sharon decided to swap the FTL drives back. Unless she was mistaken, the pirate’s FTL was currently the most valuable item in her possession; It would probably be wise to carry it with her. She fed it into her bag.
Sharron spent several minutes studying the pod’s control tablet. It quickly became apparent that she had been in stasis for quite some time. Five months in fact! She had, of course, not felt that passage of time; That was how stasis worked.
But, what was she to do now? Well, her supplies would not last forever. She would need more, and soon. That meant she needed money.
OK, let’s start there. Sharon pulled the datapad from her pack and browsed the instructions Guano had provided. Identification documentation, refugee application process instructions, Dominion Credit wallet. There. The number listed was not zero, but it was not substantial either. Not enough to live off of indefinitely, and certainly not enough to get home. Was that even an option at this point? She wasn’t going to figure that out cramped up in this little shell.
After checking that the exterior of the ship was pressurized, she hesitantly opened the door. With a slight hiss, the door opened and she stared into the hangar beyond. She stepped out. Her ’ship’ was nestled in a corner of a cavernous room. A half a dozen small ships sat neaty in a row with dockworkers loading, unloading and repairing a few of them. Her first destination was obvious; The architecture of this room was clearly designed to shift the eye’s focus to a set of consoles on the far wall.
Sharon shrugged and began walking towards them. As she did, she noticed something odd out of the corner of her eye. Something felt… off about one of the approaching dockworkers. She stopped and turned to focus on the alien, immediately noticing the cause of her confusion. The alien was huge. It was a giant giraffe with arms, colored a brilliant blue hue. He must be a Vzk’tk, one of the members of the Rrrrtk Domain. The Vzk’tk glanced at her briefly as it walked by, giving her a wide berth.
She took another look around the room. With her new-found sense of scale, she quickly realized that this room was enormous. None of this should have surprised her. She knew how tall Vzk’tk tend to be, but knowing something academically was an entirely different matter than seeing it firsthand.
Right there, in the middle of an alien hangar, in an alien station surrounded by aliens, she had an epiphany. She was exactly where she wanted to be! Well, maybe not on a truck stop, but in space. Her inner space sphere squealed with glee! Ever since she had been abducted the first time, she had studied and planned on what she would do when aliens made first contact. Unfortunately, all she had planned were methods of getting to space. In hindsight, perhaps some time should have been devoted to planning her life once she had arrived. And all of those evenings in Guano’s ship! She could have planned everything. How unfortunate that she had let her incarceration distract her from the grandeur of space. Oh well, live and learn.
She walked up to one of the consoles. Unsurprisingly, the text was written in Cortan. Well, she was better at reading Cortan than speaking it; Learning the language from a touchpad will do that to you. After a few attempts, she managed to find the page to renew her berthing. With each press of the button, 16 hours could be added to her ‘lease’. She chuckled to herself as she stood there mashing that button for a few minutes.
Well, that’s lodging sorted. The capsule was cramped, but it was… Well, mostly just cramped. Oh well, she could work on that later. For right now she needed to do… what? Leave this station, probably. She technically had a ship, but with the energy cell nearly depleted… well, the meager warp six provided by the reactor wasn’t going to cut it.
That meant the she would either need a new ship, or that she would need to overhaul the one she had. Maybe she could get a temporary job in ship maintenance? Hopefully, that could get her what she needed. She browsed through her datapad. Excellent, hopefully the quick crash course available through the local grid would be enough to get her a job.
1y11m BV
Carpe Aeternum, leaving Gao orbit.
Chuck Byse
Chuck smiled as he walked the halls of his new ship. After spending some time discussing their plans, he had left Bart and Hiron to seek solitude… and study his ship. He entered the bridge and approached the controls, pulling up the ship’s instructional submenus as he plopped into the custom-fit, reinforced captain’s seat.
Before he had departed Gao, Pekin of Ironclaw had demonstrated only two of the ship’s operations; How to fly the ship, and how to use the vast array of tutorial programs. Rather than delve immediately into the introductory tutorials, Chuck instead chose to browse through a list of the ship’s subsystems. Most of the submenus were fairly benign; categories such as ‘Life support’ and ‘Stasis Pantry’. But, as he scrolled through the list, he began to find subsystems that were not part of standard Gaoian starship design. This was, of course, not unexpected. Both Whitecrest and Ironclaw tinkerers had filled this ship with various prototypes and pet projects.
He stopped a moment to browse the section labeled ‘Weapons Systems’. Disappointingly, the ship only had weapon linkages; The weapon stations themselves lay vacant. Ah well, something to address later.
With an amused grunt, he navigated back to the list of sub-systems. He scrolled down entry by entry until… With a startled gasp, he jumped to his feet. Chuck took off running, he had been waiting a long time for this moment.
1y11m BV
Whitecrest Clan Enclave, Wi Kao, Gao.
Officer Hemmit, Communications Engineer of Clan Longear
Every clan had its responsibilities. Stoneback kept infrastructure safe, Openpaw kept Gaoians healthy, and Longear kept communications online. Officer Hemmit took this responsibility very seriously. When he received word of an errant signal drowning out several bands in the region, he immediately prepared to address the concern; such a severe breach of communications protocols demanded the immediate attention of a Longear Brother. Upon seeing that the breach in question originated from a Whitecrest facility, he resolved to see to the matter personally; Hemmit had no intention of sending a lesser Associate into their claws. No clan appreciated another nosing in on their projects, and Whitecrest in particular was known for their subtle… brutality when it came to maintaining their clan secrets. But even more than that, when a clan as meticulously careful as Whitecrest exhibited such reckless behavior? This perfect storm of Naxas dung was nearly enough for him to call on his Father. But no, he would see to this himself.
After clearing his landing, he carefully maneuvered his shuttle into the designated slot within the Whitecrest Clan Enclave. Hemmit stepped out of his shuttle, engaging its remote sensor suite as he left. This suite, when combined with his handheld scanner’s differential positioning systems, should be more than sufficient to locate the offending entity.
One of the Enclave guards approached. “Hello Longear, what is your business here today?” The guard asked, not unkindly.
Hemmit straightened himself. “I’m investigating a communications violation. I request audience with whoever manages…” He waved the sweeper around a few times before pointing towards a structure in the Enclave. “…That facility.”
The guard’s eyes followed Hemmit’s paw. He chittered softly. “Busani’s team? Somehow that does not surprise me.” The guard tapped an earpiece and talked briefly before he turned back to Hemmit. “Come, I’ll escort you in.”
They walked through the enclave, past the halls of the Champion and other high ranking Fathers, towards older structures of more subdued grandeur. Old bronze doors led into a well furnished, though dated, facility. The guard led him through the halls to an office and scratched on the door. “Hemmit of Longear to see you, Officer.” He then nodded to Hemmit and stood aside.
The door opened, revealing a very dignified-looking Whitecrest. “Officer Hemmit, please do come in. I am Officer Thalias. What can Whitecrest do for you?” He waved the guard in, who closed the door behind him.
After one more quick perusal of his mental notes, Hemmit cleared his throat. “For the past four hours, this facility has been in severe violation of Gao’s communications protocols. Somewhere in this facility there is a significant EM source causing disruptions. I intend to remain at this facility until the situation is addressed.”
Thalias took a moment to think before sending the guard to retrieve an item. Once the guard had left, he replied. “I do not understand how this could have happened. We have held this item under stasis to prevent this very problem from occurring. Perhaps you will be able to light the issue once you see the device for yourself?”
Hemmit was, of course, curious. But it would be unprofessional to pry further than required to secure the violated channels. “That is… unusual. At worst, the stasis field should yellow-shift the signal sufficiently to completely negate any disruptions.” He pondered a moment. “You left an unknown EM device powered?”
Thalias bared his fangs slightly in mild annoyance. “We inspected this device thoroughly and found no cause for concern.” He dropped his ears in mild embarrassment. “It seems, however, that our technicians have missed something.”
The guard returned with a small Corti blade. It took only seconds to sweep the object and find it safe. “That is not the source.” Hemmit moved his sweeper around slightly trying to more accurately gauge the signal’s source. “The signal originates from… approximately one hundred and forty meters in that direction.” He indicated the direction with his paw without looking up from his device.
Thalias turned to face the indicated direction and purred slightly to himself, lost in thought. “Hmm, the hangar bays.” He made a few quick gestures. “Can you identify which one?”
Hemmit pulled out his datapad and set it next to his signal scanner. Thalias had sent him a rather thoroughly redacted map of the facility. He glanced back and forth between the two devices. “The signal seems to originate from Maintenance Bay 3B.”
Thalias’ ears tilted back in concern. He held up a paw and called someone on his datapad. “Associate Sermil, I’m here with an Officer from Clan Longear. Is Maintenance Bay 3B clean?” A moment went by before Thalias acknowledged and ended the call. He turned back to Hemmit. “We’ll prowl down that way in a few minutes.”
Hemmit tilted his head. “Respectfully, Officer, this can not wait, each second wasted risks significant damage to Gao’s communication network.”
Thallias flattened his ears. “The bay is not safe to access yet. It won’t be long, Sermil is competent.” His datapad pinged; A reply had arrived. “As I said, not long.” He gestured towards his door and led Hemmit into the hall.
After a few minutes of winding through the halls, they arrived at the specified Bay. A concerned Whitecrest stood aside as the three Gaoians entered. “What’s the situation, Thalias?” the resident Gaoian asked.
Thalias pointed a paw at the room’s attendant. “Officer Hemmit of Longear, this is Associate Sermil. He manages this Bay, among others. I’ll let you brief him.”
Hemmit nodded and turned to Sermil, repeating his concerns. “This facility in in violation of clan Longear’s communications protocols. Somewhere in this room is a non-compliant EM source.” Hemmit paced the room, holding his paw out in the direction of the signal while staring at the sweeper, glancing up only enough to avoid tripping on scattered objects. “Will you identify the device?”
After a few moments, Sermil replied. “I have. Do you wish to inspect it?”
Hemmit glanced up at the Gaoian. “I do.”
Sermil nodded. “Very well. Give me a moment to pull that pod out.”
“Do you have any idea why this device would be causing interference?” Thalias asked Sermil.
Sermil had begun moving a hovercart under the pod in question. He stopped and glanced at Thalias. “This pod was an aftermarket fitting removed from… last week’s renovation project.”
Thalias’ ears perked up slightly. “Is it… Corti?”
Hemmit stepped forwards. “Yes, it does appear so. May I?”
Thalias pondered a moment before indicating his acceptance with a wave of his paw.
Within a few minutes, Hemmit had carefully dismantled the back of the stasis pod and removed a small device that was clearly not an original part of the unit. “Let’s see here…” He pointed to the components of the device. “This is a Corti long range FTL comms receiver. This one is… well it’s a powerful transmitter, I can’t identify the make. And this is its reactor.” He took a moment to disconnect the reactor leads before glancing at his sweeper. “Please, do not repower this device without careful shielding. I assume you understand how to shield a device such as this?” After Sermil nodded, Hemmit looked at his notes. “A half-claw width mesh enclosure should be sufficient to block the active frequencies.”
Thalias growled slightly to draw Hemmit’s attention. “Are we in compliance?”
Hemmit performed a few broad sweeps with his scanner. “Yes, I do believe so.” He glanced at Thalias. “You appear rather busy, I’ll take my leave. I’ll send a post-inspection report later today.”
Thalias ducked his head. “I appreciate it, Officer. We will endeavour to avoid future incidents.”
Hemmit nodded and followed the Whitecrest guard out.
As he approached his shuttle and prepared to depart, he found himself thinking again about that transmitter. There was something… unsettling about it. He quickly dismissed the thought; That was not his business. Interclan politics could be a dangerous game to play. Whitecrest consented to these Longear intrusions, so long as Longear stayed out of Whitecrest business. Prying further could only harm their willingness to allow these essential inspections. His airwaves were clear, that was all he needed to know. He packed up his equipment and departed.