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Back to 'Drifter, part 2'
Drifter Discovered (21/09/02 )
Corridors of the Fenrir Intersystem Biological Survey ship “Da'Winn-B,” en route to Fenris Prime
“Another week? That's crazy. The computer said there's C-class routes with only three to four days' travel time from here to Fenris.”
“But my dear, those routes are full of strife and danger with the Alliance's war in Vendor. I would much prefer to arrive at Fenris in one piece than in three days, wouldn't you?”
Chaya An'tair was not pleased. Being stuck on board the Da'Winn, among its cramped corridors with only its computers and its tired crew of scientists for company, for four more days... there just wasn't anything like it, except maybe detention. After romping for months on the wild worlds of the outer systems, followed by a week's stay for “scientific business” on a space station that might have been called a giant shopping mall, this boredom was excruciating for a young and ambitious Kalai girl. Her tail crinkled and lashed as she walked alongside her father (well, adoptive father, he being a Fenrir and all), muttering at her bad luck. “We should get a real rec deck if we're going to be sitting in here all the time, krr.”
Polus gave her a stern look through his glasses. “I'm surprised at you, Chaya – what, 'all the time'? Have you forgotten already how much you enjoyed meeting the Tordap, or ceased appreciating the hoverbike rides out to the site? Really, would you prefer school to those things, all because of a few days on the ship, hmm?”
Chaya crossed her arms and scowled. “It's easy to forget stuff when your brain's all fuzzed up by hyperspace.”
The fox scoffed, a wry smile touching his muzzle. “And now, my girl, you're just pouting.”
But at that moment the lights in the hallway dimmed suddenly, and a sensation like being dropped into a spinning centrifuge and yanked back out struck the both of them. Chaya cried out and stumbled against the wall; Polus clutched at his head and fell backward, landing awkwardly on his behind and stubbing his tail. The lights came back up, but an unsettling feeling of sluggishness, like running in a dream, had settled into the air.
“Miaaorawwwr,” moaned Chaya, shaking her head briefly before discovering it only made her nausea worse. “See what I mean?... Mrr, what happened?”
Polus rose to a knee, wincing as he straightened out his tail. “We've come out of hyperspace unexpectedly. Something's gotten in our way. Come, let's get to the bridge as quickly as we can.” Chaya shakily stepped over to him and helped him to his feet, taking one of his hands in both of hers, and the two of them made their wobbly way to the heart of the ship.
There was only one navigator on duty when they reached the bridge, a younger vulpine whose drowsily confused look suggested he'd been asleep when the hyperspace bubble crashed, making his disorientation all the worse. Polus settled, not smoothly, into the senior officer's chair, and Chaya knelt next to it, leaning against its armrest. The scientist waited expectantly for a moment, then asked the obvious question. “Well, Khan'Tin? What've we bumped into?”
“Uh.” The navigator rubbed his eyes, looked at his screen, then leaned his head on one hand and punched a few buttons with the other. “Physical contact, massive object... yeah. C, no, D class. Seems to be a ship.”
“Well, make sure our ID and itinerary are broadcasting, and let's see who it is, eh? Probably just a course conflict, the navigational networks aren't as well maintained out here as they are a few parsecs further in.”
Some minutes passed as the navigator fussed with his controls; things started moving in a more professional manner when the rest of the bridge crew started appearing, taking up their places at the various science stations and relaying data.
“Well, they're not broadcasting anything themselves.”
Polus tapped on the rim of his glasses with a claw. “What, nothing? Not even on the nonstandard bands? We could be looking at somebody who wandered in from the outer sectors, after all, it happens...”
“Nothing, Doctor. In fact, there aren't even any engine emissions. Faint energy signatures, but it's just noise as far as I can tell. It seems that the ship is a derelict.”
“A derelict? Hmm, broadcast a situation inquiry, all frequencies and languages. They haven't responded to anything yet, but...”
A new voice spoke up from one of the active-scan stations. “Take a look at the data feed from Arrays 6 and 12, Doctor. Not only is the ship's design not correlating with anything that's on file, but its very hull isn't reflecting our signals normally. The surface seems irregular – either there's some weak stealth screen active, or the ship isn't covered in any kind of metal we know of.”
Polus looked at the data and blinked. “How incredibly curious. Rhynn'An, let's toggle some of the arrays from vessel scan mode to biosurvey mode.”
With a clatter of keystrokes and some murmurs of puzzlement, the technicians carried out the order. “Doctor, we're reading the ship as organic material. Inert, but definitely organic. Like we're looking at a spacecraft made of wood or something.”
“Organic ship...” Chaya murmured in woozy curiosity, from next to Polus's elbow. “If it's... derelict, can we go look at it?”
Polus took off his glasses and leaned back in his chair, rubbing the top of his muzzle. “We don't know what we've stumbled across, here. An unidentified derelict could be anything... a failed generation ship, a trade or military vessel gutted by mutiny or disease, or something entirely alien. This could be incredibly dangerous, or a find we could only have dreamed of.” He replaced his glasses and frowned at the forward viewer, its display showing the dim mass of the unknown ship, visible by little more than its outline against the starfield. “But as members of a scientific expedition, I believe it is our duty to make some investigation. Khan'Tin, bring us in close and match our velocity to its drift. Concentrate the scans on locating potential points of entry. Gir'Ahl, compose a message for relay to the Survey and to the local patrols, describing our discovery and our intent to investigate.
“Unless we note any activity or signal from our target, I hope to have a team ready to board as soon as we are all clear of hyperspace sickness. That is all; let's begin this little adventure, eh, my friends?”
| Drifter Discovered (SabreCat) - 21/09/02 |
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