a few minutes prior
Hiron’s shop. tradestation Desolate Oasis
Whitecrest Associate Hiron
Hiron waited calmly behind the counter until the door of the shop clicked closed. Immediately afterwards, he rapidly shouted a few commands to lock down the shop and set up a hologram of his likeness. Any high quality surveillance would see through it, but there was simply no time for anything better. He bolted to his storeroom, grabbing a few boxes and his active camouflage cloak, recently acquired at Ronovin’s recommendation.
Quickly throwing the cloak over his shoulders he leapt out the back door of the shop and ran towards the hangars. While en route, he instructed his datapad to locate the Corti’s ship. A few seconds later, with the ship’s model and name in paw, he began decoding the basic access keys to the ship’s back door.
He arrived at the Corti’s ship winded. It was never a good idea to enter a hostile area fatigued, but time was of the essence; There were only five or six minutes before his mark would arrive.
Hiron pulled his masterkey out of his pocket and set his portable holo unit to project a copy of the door directly in front of its physical location. He stuck a small surveillance camera out of sight and directed it towards the hangar’s entrance. Once that feed was in place, he opened the ship’s door. He moved swiftly towards the bridge, slowing only to search for the most obvious of traps.
Once there, he spent a few panicked minutes quickly connecting his devices to as many of the ship’s subsystems as he could. Eventually, his camera warned him of Zilroy’s approach. Hiron quickly closed the electrical panels and worked his way towards the ship’s exterior airlock.
Hiron held his breath as Zilroy entered and walked past. Just before the door closed, he dove out. Sure, his landing sucked -he’d be feeling this one in the morning- but it seemed that he had escaped unseen.
It would not take Zilroy long to find evidence of tampering. Hiron stood and brushed himself off, carefully maneuvering his cloak back into position. He pulled out his datapad and connected to the ship’s intercom system though the recently implanted hardware.
“Hello, Zilroy.”
After a few seconds, the ship hastily departed. The Corti returned the greeting. “Hello, informant.”
Ah.
Well, such was the purpose of ablative covers. ‘Informant’ was still sufficiently vague; He may still have time for further interrogation… if he was careful.
The ship pulled away from the dock and came to a stop a short distance from the tradestation. Hiron watched the next few events unfold on his datapad. First, the Bridge door was sealed shut. Then, several unknown commands were sent to several of the ship’s subsystems, most of which Hiron had not had the time to connect to.
Even without direct observation, the net effect of those commands was obvious; The ship was venting atmosphere. Hiron had to think fast; He only had time for one more statement before he ‘suffocated’. What would elicit the most useful response? Something linking him to Chuck, perhaps hinting at a close association? Lacking time to consider, he went with the first, most human response he could think of. With a hoarse snarl, Hiron growled two raspy words. “You…. fucker.” He then disconnected his microphone from the feed, leaving the incoming line open.
As if prompted, Zilroy monologued to his ‘dying’ guest. “It’s a pity that the Hunters didn’t finish what they started. Now I’ll have to scour this station to ensure that all records are clean. Though I do have to thank you for saving me the trouble of hunting you down.”
Hiron stood resolute, refusing to allow his emotions to cloud his judgement. It was not easy; He had rather enjoyed the company of several of the slaughtered sapients. But objectivity must be preserved. Did he have the justification he needed? It took only moment for him to reach his conclusion; Zilroy was clearly too dangerous to be allowed to remain alive. He pulled out his detonator and activated it. The charge he had planted in the ship’s bridge tore the front half of the ship apart. With one more contemptuous glance at the ship’s scattered remains, Hiron turned and walked slowly back towards his shop.
1y8m3w BV
Carpe Aeternum, In orbit around around Corti world Tangent
Chuck
Procuring a cloaking device was proving to be much more difficult than he had expected. While Chuck had his reservations about informing Whitecrest of his interest in field-type cloaking devices, in the end, it was simply not practical to perform the necessary research with a lesser system. Thanks to Whitenet, finding available cloaking devices was not difficult. He now knew the makes and models of dozens of available systems. Unfortunately, not one of the manufacturers was willing to sell to Bysteel Craftworks, let alone to Chuck himself.
Having found no alternative path, he now found himself contacting Lamphur shipyard’s customer support line. Lamphur was a relatively new Corti establishment that had started out by constructing rather mundane vessels for low volume freight and low cost travel. They also, more by coincidence than any other reason, offered some of the most advanced cloaking systems on the market.
After a few moments, a Lamphur representative connected. “Yes? How can I help you?” The sapient on the other end of the line was clearly not a Corti.
“Hi, I recently ordered a ship from Lamphur, Unfortunately, I improperly entered the specifications during the design process.”
“I should be able to help you with that. Which order was it again?”
“The most recent Flumog class.” Chuck named one of Lamphurs slightly higher end models. Some of these class of ship were used as abductor craft for less well-off Corti.
“Flumog… ah, I have it here. Order 726423?”
“That sounds correct.”
“OK, what do you need to change?”
“I believe that I specified the wrong cloaking engine.”
“It’s worse than that, sir, you specified no cloaking system.”
“Oh, that is simply not acceptable. Can you help me correct this?”
“Of course. What class of cloaking engine do you require?”
“Let’s go with the multi-band model 487B.” Chuck specified the second most versatile model offered, under the assumption that any suspicion of foul play would be avoided by not selecting the best available model.
“487B. Alright sir, it will be installed soon. That will increase the cost of your order by two hundred and fifty thousand credits.”
“That is acceptable, just add it to the bill.”
“Very well.”
Chuck closed the call and quickly opened a new one, this time calling the shipyard’s production floor.
A gruff sapient answered. “Yeah?”
“Hello, is this Lamphur’s production floor?”
“It is.”
“I was told to call here. I had a bit of a problem with order number 726423.”
Some tapping was heard over the datapad. Presumably the order was being looked up. “Flumog class ship. That one is currently being constructed. It may be too late to change anything.”
“I’m hoping its not. I had intended to order a cloaking device with the ship, not built into it. It’s a replacement part for another ship.”
More tapping. “What do you propose we do?”
“Could you send it separately? Rush shipping, if you can.”
“Hmm, yeah I suppose we can do that, but it will cost extra.”
“That’s fine.”
“To the same address as the ship, I presume?”
“That will work fine.”
A few more taps were heard. “Done.”
“Can I get a tracking number for the package?”
“Yes…” More scrolling. “Looks like it will be 39274BX5 on the Verji Courier lines. Will that be all?”
“It will. Thank you.”
One more call.
“Hello, Verji Couriers.”
“Hi. This is Lamphur shipbuilding. One of the packages we sent out today had the wrong shipping address on it. Do you think you can help?”
“Certainly. I will require the tracking number for verification purposes.”
“39274BX5.”
“Ok. That package is not yet in the system. You said it was sent out today?”
“It should have been. Though it may be still awaiting delivery.”
“That’s even better. Now, there is a fee associated with change of destination-”
“Put it on the bill.”
“Very well. What is the new destination?”
A few minutes later, the task was complete. Chuck sat back in his chair, smiling at a job well done.
1y8m1w2d BV
Just Outside Habitation Dome 2, Fyunipper Clanhouse, Haidao
Fyunipper Clanfather Darpin
Darpin sat with Sharon in her domicile as the movie drew to a close. They had been doing this a lot lately.
Sharon had insisted that he watch Gaoian workplace dramas with her. Every few minutes, she would interrupt the video and ask about some aspect of the language or another, always odd little things too. It was always a simple idiom, or perhaps a common reference, never anything complicated. He had been willing to suffer through it for a few days, but Keeda’s balls, that stuff was boring!
She pleaded with him to continue, offering to let him pick out the movies. So he did. Only the most violent of action movies featuring the boldest and shiniest special effects lived up to his standards, so that is what they watched. Still, she kept interrupting, even if much less often than before. Over time, she began to discover the glory of these masterpieces, gasping in wonder at the impressive effects. She remained unimpressed at the plotlines though, calling them ‘predictable’ or ‘cringey’. Oh well, some people just don’t understand art.
Sharon turned to him. “So, that thin black Gaoian, the one who did the ‘hacking’; was there a reason that the big brown male didn’t chase him after he jumped into the lake near the end of the story?”
Darpin chittered merrily. “He’s probably supposed to be of Clan Longear. They’re good swimmers. The big ‘ol brownie knew he would never catch him.”
“I thought Gaoians hated the water?”
“Most do, but we gotta get our fish from somewhere.”
It was always little questions like that. Darpin yawned and jumped up out of the couch. “Well, have a good evening, Sharon.”
“You too, Darpin.”
He stopped as his ear ticked just slightly. Even though her Gaori had improved significantly in the past few weeks, there was just something missing, something vibrant that she only showed when she spoke her native language. Well that, and he missed being called ‘Daar’. Ah well, something to think about later. He turned and left for the evening.
The next morning, he woke up and walked to the pantry to prepare breakfast. He opened the doors and saw… nothing. Oh, balls. He walked over to one of the other food cabinets, only to find it, too, empty. After several frantic minutes, he did manage to find a few leftover naxas strips. But what about Sharon? What could she eat?
He couldn’t think of anything. So, he walked over to the nutrition sphere receptacle and put a few of those awful things on a plate. Considering for a moment, he split the naxas in half, and took a half a sphere for himself. He really should have been paying more attention to their supplies. Fyu’s balls, Sharon must have been eating a lot more than he had planned for! The food supplies that were supposed to last for four months only lasted three!
He chittered softly to himself. This could have been a lot worse. It was a good thing that they had purchased those additional food supplies before they departed Local Refueling Station! But still, who wants to eat nutrition spheres? He needed to get more food!
He entered life-house two with his plates, approaching his Clansister’s chosen dwelling. Remembering his Sister’s aversion to unannounced visits, he scratched on her doorplate before entering.
“Come in, Darpin.”
He opened the door and stepped in. In contrast to the primitive, rustic, ancient aesthetics of the exterior, there was nothing crude about the dwelling’s internal furnishings. Old-fashioned and tacky, perhaps, but still soft and comfortable.
He joined her on the couch and set the trays on the table. Her muzzle ticked up only slightly along one edge; Something was wrong. “How are you feeling, Sharon?” It was a dumb, vague question, but he didn’t know what else to say. He glanced down at the trays. “Yeah, this breakfast is disappointing, is that what’s bothering you?”
She waved a paw dismissively. “Nutrition spheres won’t bother me. I’m doing fine, Darpin.”
No, she wasn’t.
“The atmospheric retention dome upgrade is almost complete, the tracklayer is building the first hard cart track, and the electrostatic coaster project is almost to the point where we can build the first Tycoon-class design platform prototype.”
Darpin stirred excitedly. After all this time, progress was finally being made! He’d had his doubts in the past few weeks. He’d even questioned Sharon’s induction to the clan! But, stupidly, he had forgotten that his sister was alien. Aliens would always be, well, alien. It would be stupid to assume that their pacing too would match anything familiar! Wait, he was supposed to be talking to Sharon. What was he here for? …Oh, right.
“That’s not exactly what I meant, Sister. Are you happy?”
“Of course, Darpin.” She smiled.
Human were very good at hiding their emotions. Even so, and in spite with his self-admitted inability to read others, he could tell that she was not being entirely honest. But, he had no idea what to do about that.
Oh, right. She was still here. “Sharon, I’m going to need to do a supply run. The station is about a day away, so I’d be gone for a few days.”
“I thought Local Refueling Station was two days away?”
Darpin shook his head. “That’s not the closest depot. I just wanted to see if there was anything interesting there. Turned out there was.” He pant-grinned slyly.
Sharon laughed. “Alright. It’ll be lonely up here, but I think I’ll be ok.”
Darpin moved close to her. “I really think you should come with me. There are no other functional ships here, no life pods. If something happened…”
“Really, none of those work?”
“Well, I only needed one functional ship when I was here alone…”
Sharon thought for a moment. “Let me have a few minutes to get ready.” Taking care to be gentle, she shoved him out of her dwelling. As the door closed behind him, Darpin considered his options. An idea struck him as he walked to the hangar to prepare the ship. All he needed were a few supplies. He just may be able to fix this.