Among the Cold Starlight

[Gir Quee]

LL-1200 Light Freighter Java, near Hast

"Ease the throttle up nice and slow," coaxed Gir, "like if you're trying to open one of those old-fashioned swinging doors without making a sound."

Gir leaned over the pilot's chair, watching the green-tinged mon calamari adolescent gingerly pull the control towards them. As he did so, the view through the Java's viewport gradually morphed from a featureless black abyss to reveal the blue gem of Hast in the distance. Gir kept his eyes on the ship's sensor readout, watching for any blips to appear on the full spectrum transceiver grid. Yet none appeared yet, which caused the contorted feeling in his stomach to relax. He spared a glance at Kolit's right hand, which remained glued to the shuttle's throttle. Good, at least he is ready to act if necessary...He heard the sound of footsteps growing progressively louder behind him, along with a characteristic mumble which he knew all too well as Salmakk entered the cockpit with a warm cup of C-tea in hand. The mon calamari engineer casually glanced around the cockpit before settling in the co-pilot's chair.

"I see that your Uncle Gir hasn't steered you wrong yet."

Kolit started to turn his head towards Salmakk but quickly thought better of it, "How can you tell?"

"Why, we're still in one piece," quipped Gir's adopted brother.

That was a pretty bad joke, even for you... Gir spared a glance from the sensor screen to observe Salmakk's beaming face. Gir couldn't recall seeing Salmakk as happy recently as this. Perhaps it was simply because Gir and Salmakk had managed to mend their relationship after the Ocean Tide 's construction was completed, but Gir couldn't help but wonder if something else was at play. Maybe he's closer to Kolit than I originally thought? I mean, some people barely know their second cousin's name, but he's always seemed to give him more time than the rest of the extended family...Gir turned his gaze back to the glass-like viewport. Hast had grown from a small orb to flowing surface which took up the vast majority of their forward view. Gir could now see the outlines of the world's orbital shipyards, owned and operated by Aurora Industries, begin to eclipse the world's mass. We're about to get into areas with traffic again. Gir gently put his hand down on Kolit's shoulder.

"Kolit, I'll take the controls from here. You did well."

 

[Gir Quee]

Kolit shuffled out the pilot's seat to hover behind Salmakk. As Gir sat into the pilot's chair, he could see more and more artificial objects loom in their viewport. Some of them were so minute that Gir guessed that they were simple communication's satellites or or small skyhooks while others were large enough that their identities were easily discerned. There was no mistaking the orbital shipyards run by Aurora Industries or the larger Directorate warships such as the Black Sword in orbit. Gir tilted the yoke of the Java to the left, sending the light freighter in a gentle arc around a gathering of Directorate warships and into a orbit around the world itself. Gir and Salmakk both spared a quick glance at their homeworld, but Kolit's gaze lingered on the ocean world.

“What's the longest time that you've been away from home?” asked Gir.

“Ah...two weeks.”

“Where did you go to?”

“Chyolo Island, in the south seas.”

Most inhabited worlds near Hast were days, usually weeks apart. It seemed unlikely to Gir that Kolit had journeyed to another world. His first time away from Hast. Gir could still remember his first time leaving the world. It had only been a quick shuttle hop onto a larger passenger liner that eventually took him to Anaxes. Yet there was something remarkably poignant about seeing the comforting warm waters of Hast before being whisked away into the cold, larger galaxy.

“There she is,” said Salmakk, pointing a distant white hull with a bow edged with a dark emerald green, “the Ocean Tide.”

The mon calamari engineer fiddled with the co-pilot's controls, selecting the Ocean Tide on the Java's HUD. The miniaturized holo-projector situated between the two adopted brothers formed a visage of the carrier. Having spent weeks on that starship while it was under construction, Gir paid it little mind. But Kolit was enraptured with the holo. Gir spared a brief glance at the young mon calamari.

“There's home for the next couple of weeks,” said Gir, “maybe longer if something comes up.”

 

[Gir Quee]

Salmakk shook his head, “Or your introduction into living in space. I want to make something very clear to you, Kolit. This is just a experience, it doesn't have to become your career. If you like it, great. I'm sure your Uncle Gir won't mind taking you under his wing. But if not, I'm certain that Uncle Gir will not be offended.”

“It's not a life for everyone,” quipped Gir, easing back the ship's throttle.

The Java decelerated rapidly as it neared the colonization fleet. Most of the ships present were small common civilian craft: bulk transports, large shuttles, and even a stripped down luxury liner. But a handful of military patrol craft and blastboats had mustered around the fringes of the fleet to provide a first line of defense against any raiders and other hostile threats the group might encounter. But these ships were but a token bit of firepower compared to the colonization fleet's central fixture: the Ocean Tide. As large as a small star destroyer, the Ocean Tide was a hybrid between a dedicated warship and an colonization carrier. It had enough firepower that it should theoretically be capable of stopping most pirate and hostile alien threats, though by itself, it seemed unlikely to be able to counter a fleet from a galactic power. The Java rose up from underneath a boxy bulk freighter to skim across the upper surface of the Ocean Tide's heavily armored bow. Gir toggled a button on his headset comlink.

“Ocean Tide, this is freighter Java, requesting permission to land in the upper hangars.”

An automated and cheery voice flowed through the cockpit's speakers.

“Granted. Welcome aboard, Captain Quee, automated docking will begin shortly.”

Gir reduced the throttle to a complete halt, letting the Java drift across the Ocean Tide's hull. Seconds later, the light freighter briefly shook as guidance tractor beams grabbed a hold of the ship's hull. They passed towards the cylindrical bridge section before the tractor beams tugged the ship downwards into the dorsal hangar hatch. The black void of space disappeared as they entered the shaft, allowing them to see several levels of small hangars that each housed a smattering of support craft that would facilitate the colonization of Antas IV.

 

[Gir Quee]

The Java slid down the shaft before the guidance tractor beams slid the freighter into a small hangar that was already occupied by a flatfish decked out in vibrant blue livery. Gir instantly recognized it as Mulk's scoutship. The duros explorer had seen more of the Antas system than anyone else alive in that ship, the data was clear on that. But Gir couldn't help but wonder how much time he had actually spent on the surface of Antas IV. But I suppose he is really our pilot...not our groundside explorer. Gir shook the thoughts from his head as the Ocean Tide's artificial gravity systems grabbed a hold of the Java and secured it to the deck. Gir's hands danced across the ship's dashboard as he rhythmically powered down the light freighter in his established routine. As he finished, the man slapped a button on the cockpit's side that lowered the boarding ramp before the ship's internal lighting went dark.

"That was fast," remarked Kolit, "and you got everything..."

"He's done this a time or two before," smiled Salmakk, "your speed on the pre and post-flight checkups will improve as you do them more."

Gir nodded, "Habits are built by repetition. You can probably get faster than me with some more time under your belt. In fact, once your sim scores go up, I'll probably have you handle flying the Java for most of the trip."

That thought puzzled Kolit, "Won't you want to do that?"

"I will," said Gir, "but I'll probably be on the bridge most of the time."

The trio walked down the ramp of the light freighter into the cramped hangar. He could already see some a motley collection of Treadwell and astromech droids, all under the supervision of a particularly cantankerous LE-series mechanic droid descending upon the Java. Gir had been a bit hesitant to let a full droid crew conduct maintenance on his craft without any direct organic supervision. Yet he knew that the Java was already in such good shape that it would take some work for the droids to mess up routine maintenance. Or so I hope. Salmakk's assured me that they got the central computer worked out of all of its kinks in the ship maintenance cycle...he better be right on that. Gir's eyes darted around the hangar, looking for their greeter. While he didn't expect the rows of marines aisle to the blast doors as he did when he was a GR admiral, he expected that at least one of the ship's crew would be present to give him an update on the vessel. An unseen voice called out to him.

"Welcome aboard the Ocean's Tide, sir."

 

[Gir Quee]

Gir's darted around looking for the speaker before he finally settled on a shadow-like figure that lurked near a stack of durplast crates next to the exit doors. Nearly as tall as Gir and much more muscular, the being seemed barely perceptible in the darkest areas of the room. The creature's form resolved somewhat to reveal almost canine-like features. Gir blinked as he strode forward to meet their greeter. A defel. Gir stretched out a hand towards the defel, who promptly grabbed and shook it.

"Thank you, I am Captain Quee," said Gir, turning to face the mon calamari, "and this is Salmakk and Kolit."

"I am Lonmoz," said the shadowy figure, "I will be your liaison from the Osiris Mining Corporation."

Interesting. They certainly contributed a lot to this effort, and they have a lot riding on it, but I wonder if there is a specific reason they chose him to be the liaison out of their corporate officers. Gir had expected the position to be filled by Tyels Kort, his secretary, or some unmemorable protocol droid. Apparently Kort is up to something else...I wonder why they would select a more junior executive for this slot? He shook the thoughts from his head as Salmakk and Kolit shook Lonmoz's hand. Gir waited for Lonmoz to release his hold of Kolit's hand before he started to walk through the exit doors.

"How do you feel about the voyage?" asked Gir, "Or should I say, how do you personally feel about this journey?"

"I have not thought much about the process of actually traveling to Antas IV," said Lonmoz, "I leave that to the professionals like yourself. My concern is ensuring that our people and machinery arrive to the world as per the expectations drawn up with the charter of this expedition. If we are talking about my personal feelings, I have been satisfied with what I've seen so far. But we both know that the superficial is less important that actual performance."

"A fair point," conceded Gir, "will Mister Kort be joining us?"

"He had a change of plans and remains on Karfeddion," said Lonmoz, "you were expecting him?"

"I was."

"I see," said the defel, "you should know then that I am his replacement. I am not fully caught up on the finer points, which numbers among one of my reasons for meeting you at the hangar. But perhaps more importantly, I need your help in arbitrating a matter between Osiris Corp and Vulca Mineral Corp."

Gir hesitated as they crossed through the glowing corridors of the Ocean Tide, "Is this something that we should discuss in such an open place?"

 

[Gir Quee]

"The matter itself is trivial enough that I do not care much about who hears it," said the defel, lowering his voice to almost a low growl, "but it is troublesome because it appears to be a case of pushing boundaries."

Barely minues onboard with a fresh set of people, and I'm already involved in shipboard politics. On one hand, it didn't surprise him. With the Antas IV enterprise as large as it was combined with the inclusion of several disparate groups, some internal conflict was inevitable. Yet he had expected the groups to try and politely work things out between themselves for a little bit before involving him in the process. But this is an area where I shouldn't be quick to take sides...especially when I don't know all of the facts. Perhaps just as importantly, it's important to avoid even the possible perception of that to the ship at large.

"Let's talk about this in my quarters," decided Gir, "in accordance with my open door policy."

The defel nodded, "I understand. You will want time to settle in first, yes?"

"If you wouldn't mind."

"Contact me when you are ready then, captain."

"I will. You are listed within the ship directory?"

"I am."

"Excellent. I will probably contact you within a few hours from now, once I'm certain that ship is prepared to start its journey."

"I will look forward to your call then."

Gir watched as the defel parted ways with him to slip down another corridor. Salmakk increased his stride to walk alongside him. The two exchanged knowing glances. Kolit quickly came up alongside Salmakk's other side.

"There is trouble aboard the ship already?"

"Perhaps," said Gir, "but it could also be a little issue that got overblown. I don't know enough to say for sure though. I will say this though. Kolit, we seem to think about naval officers being concerned about how a ship operates. But the truth of the matter is that the ship and its equipment is usually a secondary concern to me after managing the people on it. If people do their jobs right and stay out of internal conflict, a ship's crew can run the ship almost without me. But this is one of those things that is compounded on larger ships like this with more complex internal bureaucracies, though you can mitigate this with a good leadership throughout the chain of command."

"Except that passenger's don't typically fit anywhere in a ship's chain of command," reminded Salmakk.

 

[Gir Quee]

“That's true,” remarked Gir.

The trio rounded a corner to come in front of a singular vertical door. Gir double-checked the stenciled number on the doorway with the number stored in his datapad. Satisfied that it was the right room, he inserted his code cylinder into the data socket. A few seconds passed before he could hear the gears behind the paneling begin to rotate. The door disappeared into the ceiling, admitting the trio into their suite. Gir's eyes wandered throughout the room, noting the lofted beds and furniture which vaguely reminded him in the layout of his dormitory room at the naval academy. Kolit quickly passed by Gir to open a door that revealed a small but complete refresher. The door quickly shut behind him, giving Gir the first real time alone that he had with Salmakk for the last day.

“I'm going to head up to the bridge,” said Gir, setting down his bag and lowering his voice, “I'd appreciate it if you could keep Kolit entertained down here until I get back.”

Salmakk sagely nodded, “You want to get a handle of the situation before you thrust him into it.”

Gir nodded, “I personally picked Hopkins as the executive officer because I think he could be groomed into a fine captain for a vessel of this size, but I don't know all of his people really well yet.”

“You let him pick them?”

“Half of the bridge crew,” admitted Gir, “since he'll be doing as much of the lifting on the bridge as I will be. It seems that most of them have some experience in the Directorate fleet before changing their commissions over to Lucerne Labs. But while they are experienced, I don't have a clue about their actual dynamics.”

“I'll see you later on then.”

 

[Gir Quee]

Gir quickly removed himself from the cabin to make his short walk to ship's bridge. Like many of Lucerne Lab's other capital ship designs, the Unity's bridge was buried deep in the superstructure of the vessel itself to better protect it from enemy attacks. As he passed through the security checkpoint, he could see other similarities that it shared with Tercel-class. It sported octagonal walls in an amphitheater arrangement that allowed the various members of the bridge crew look across the room to see each other as well as their sectional chiefs on the lowest level. In many ways, it inverted the classic KDY and Rendili bridge architecture that had dominated star destroyer design for so many years. His time on the Black Sword had made him comfortable with the unusual set-up, yet looking around at the faces behinds the consoles, Gir could see that not everyone was as comfortable with it as he was. Hopkins, a lanky brown-haired man strolled up to him and offered out his hand.

“Welcome aboard, mister president.”

Gir shook the man's hand and let a subdued smile creep across his face, “It will be 'captain' for this voyage.”

“My apologies.”

“Are we prepared to jump?”

“We are.”

Gir turned his eyes to the communication's officer, where a raven-haired woman with a mechanical left arm sat.

“Miss Tumu, if you will signal the fleet to prepare to make a synchronized jump, I would be obliged,” said Gir, turning his gaze to the ship's helmsman, “take us out as soon as Miss Tumu reports that all ships are ready to jump, take us on out.”

 

[Gir Quee]

It took only a handful of minutes before word returned to the bridge that the fleet was ready to jump. Their navigator, a sharp-eyed sullustan, had gone over the charts meticulously for the first leg of their journey towards the edges of known space: Looking at their projected course, Gir could see that Liat had narrowed down the safety margins by slight increments at select intervals in an effort to conserve fuel and speed up travel time. That sort of practice usually made Gir uneasy, yet looking at the appended notes with their rationales by the navigator made him feel a bit more at ease. But ultimately, the thing that made him feel most at ease was the interstellar probe that was travelling ahead of the group by roughly a half hour. If anything would not work for them, the probe would let them know. His eyes wandered across the navigational chart before ending up at a speck labelled simply as the "Honia system". Gir glanced up at Hopkins.

"Have you ever been to the Honia system before?"

"I haven't," admitted the lanky man, "though I heard it's mostly known for its academics, particularly the university? It seems like an odd place to jump of the reaches of civilization."

Gir nodded, "From that superficial standpoint, that's very true. But most of the work that their university does is related to spotting intergalactic peoples."

"Like the Vong?"

"Precisely so," said Gir, "imagine how much destruction could have been avoided if our galaxy had properly prepared itself for their arrival?"

"I couldn't imagine," said the officer, "but how often does that happen? It sounds like the sort of institution that is maintained because while the chance of such a thing occurring again is almost minimal, the effects that it could bring would be catastrophic if we weren't prepared for it."

"Exactly so," muttered Gir, "speaking of unforseen conflicts...have you had any dealings with Lonmoz?"

"Who?"

 

[Gir Quee]

"Lonmoz," repeated Gir, "the representative of Osiris Mining Corporation?"

"Oh, Kort's last minute replacement," mumbled Hopkins, "I've seen him at a meeting, but he didn't say much. At least not enough for me to form an opinion of him."

"What about Vulca Mineral Corp?"

"Pushy people," replied the executive officer, "but they've been respectful to me."

"How have they been pushy?"

"Mostly with what I've seen during the meetings with the other companies," said the captain, "very assertive about certain prospective policies that will govern their work on Antas. They did some negotiating with other companies about getting access to certain cargo holds to keep some extra, last minute gear that their team brought aboard. Apparently they miscalculated the space that they thought they would have."

Well, that at least correlates with what Lonmoz was saying to an extent. Perhaps they moved some of their gear into areas designated for use by Osiris? It could be an easy mistake if they confused one hold from an area that they negotiated use from with another company. His eyes wandered around the bridge before he came to the conclusion that it would likely be a very uneventful watch since this space they were traveling had been reasonably well charted and explored given the area that they were in.

"Hopkins, you have the bridge," said Gir, "I am going to help settle a dispute between a couple of the charter members."

 

[Gir Quee]

Gir walked out of the bridge and meandered throughout the ship, taking time to briefly stop and inspect certain areas of the ship, including the cargo holds used by Osiris Corp and Vulca Mineral Corp. None of the holds he saw thus far though had mismatched crates, leading Gir to suspect that if Vulca had encroached into Osiris Corp's holds, they had probably done so with a fairly small amount of cargo. One more to go. Gir slid his code cyinder into a door socket which caused the blastdoor to rise up and reveal a wall of amber colored crates. A baritone voice gruffly called out from behind him.

"You there, what are you doing?"

Gir slowly turned on his heels to face a pale, older man with a white bushy handlebar mustache and faded maroon beret sloppily covering his mostly bald head. But all of that all, Gir instantly recognized the piercing light blue eyes of the man. Is that really Gordian James? Recognition spread across the face of his old academy instructor. A brief trace of crimson ran through his cheeks.

"Mister Quee, I didn't recognize you at first," said the aged man, ambling towards him, "though I was hoping to catch you when I heard that you too would be on this voyage."

"I didn't know that you were coming," said Gir, "you should have said something..."

Gordian slowly shook his head, "I was a last minute hire by Vulca Mineral, and I ended up bringing too many droids. It's been difficult to find places from them all."

"That's actually why I'm here," said Gir, briefling glancing at the cargo hold, "I have a compliant that some of your droids are in another company's cargo hold, and they don't want them there."

James blinked, "I didn't think I put them anywhere where people said they couldn't be."

"We'll figure it out," said Gir, "why don't you come with me, and we'll talk about it with the other company."

 

[Gir Quee]

"Who's the man I managed to piss off?"

"A defel, actually," said Gir, "Lonmoz, who's in charge of Osiris Corporation's interests here."

"Oh."

Gir noticed that James seemed caught offguard by that. That's unlike him. He's usually so careful in paying attention to details like that...and he would remember that if he actually talked to Lonmoz about storing things in his cargo hold. Must have been a simple mistake. Gir pulled out a cylindrical comlink from his tunic and tapped a button on it.

"Call Lonmoz."

The device replied back in confirmation, "Calling...Lonmoz."

It took several seconds before a brief chime-like sound announced that the defel had picked up the call.

"Mister Lonmoz?" asked Gir.

"Yes?"

"This is Captain Quee. Do you have time to meet me in my cabin right now? I have a representative from Vulca Mineral Corp here who states that he can move his gear out of your cargo hold."

"There is not much to discuss then," said the defel, "If he could move the crates in hold Besh Four to somewhere else, we will be happy."

"How long does he have?"

"Until we get to the Honia System. We have some supplies that we will picking up there."

"Understood. Thank you for your time, Mister Lonmoz."

He turned the comlink off and turned to Gordian, "So what do you have in Besh Four?"

 

[Gir Quee]

Gordian's eyes turned upward and to the left as he tried to recall what was in that cargo hold. Seconds elapsed before he slowly shook his head and pulled out a small tablet from his vest. With the flick of the stylus, the old man scrawled through his inventory, occasionally mumbling before continuing onward. Eventually, the man looked back up at Gir.

"I don't know. I have nothing recorded as being dropped off there."

"Let's go check it out then."

"You have time to spend chasing down lost droids?" asked James quizically.

Gir glanced at his wrist chrono, "We have nearly a day before we arrive at our next destination, and Hopkins has the watch."

"Doing three shifts?"

Gir nodded, "Yes, no point in wearing people too thin, especially at the start of a voyage. I'll have plenty of downtime to help look around. Besides, my presence will probably allay any concerns that Vulca Minerals is tampering with Osiris's property."

"Well, I have been wanting to hear your stories since you've left the academy. Doubtlessly, I have a few of my own which I wish to tell..."

The two men wandered down the Tide's glowing corridors, only breaking the conversation about exotic worlds and fantastic voyages to exchange sundry pleasantries with passing crewmembers and passengers. It must had been over twenty minutes before the two reached the designated cargo hold. Gir inserted his code cylinder into the door, which caused the door to part ways and allow entry. While some of the Tide's cargo holds were almost cavernous to facilitate the transport of large pre-fabricated structures and ground vehicles, many more were much smaller. Besh Four was one of the latter, holding almost as much as a typical tramp freighter. Gir stepped into the room, noting many neatly stacked barrels and containers emblazoned with Osiris's logo, a sable crown set over an emerald planet. But as he casually scanned the room, he didn't notice company property which didn't belong to Osiris Corporation. Gordian James wandered into the room and began to look around along with Gir.

"I don't see anything," murmured James as he shuffled around the crates.

"Neither do I," said Gir, "let's do one more pass just to make sure we didn't miss anything. Do you think it's possible that another Vulca Mineral employee picked it up?"

 

[Gir Quee]

"I doubt it," said the old man, "I can't see a reason why they'd touch it. Most of them are foremen, miners, office workers...though we may have one quartermaster droid that maybe could have touched something."

"Can't hurt to ask the droid," said Gir, finishing another sweep of the small cargo hold, "I'll go talk to Lonmoz to help clear up any remaining matters."

James nodded before giving Gir an intent stare, as if he were about to say something. Yet flicker of movement in the corner of his eye grabbed GIr's attention and yanked it from his old mentor. Yet when he looked at the area of movement, he noticed nothing that should be moving. He glanced back at Gordian, whose face also wore a puzzled expression. He saw it too. The blonde man stepped forward and wrapped his arm around James's shoulder before leading him out of the cargo hold. Almost immediately, he slapped a button that caused the door to drop down behind them, sealing off the cargo bay.

"You saw it too then," murmured Gordian.

"I only saw movement. What did you see?"

"Color changing. Something almost brown looking turning into gray."

"An infiltrator droid or shape-shifter then," guessed Gir, pulling out his comlink, "that could explain the appearance and disappearance of your company's crates here. They could have been nothing more than disguises."

"Maybe..."

Gir tapped a stud on his comlink, "Bridge, this is Captain Quee. I need a security team to cargo hold Besh Four stat to check for a possible stowaway or intruder. If you have a scanner team or a specialist sensor droid available, that would be invaluable."

 

[Gir Quee]

The two men watched the door until a trio of floating G-2RD guard droids and a pair of Directorate marines appeared in front of them. Normally, Gir felt that they would have been enough presence to deal with any normal stowaway. Yet now, he wasn't so sure. But the more time we give whoever is in there alone, the worse this could turn out...He inserted code cylinder into the receptacle, before turning to face the guards.

"Whoever or whatever is there has the ability to shapeshift or somehow electronically disguise itself. Be careful."

With that, he tapped a button on the door, causing it to rumble open. The droids surged through the gap, and Gir half-expected to hear the whine of blaster fire as they did so. But no sound came, causing the two Directorate marines to slowly advance into the room with their rifles at the ready. But several minutes after entering, Gir didn't hear anything. He considered calling for back-up before one of the marines appeared at the doorway.

"There's no-one or nothing in here right now," informed the trooper, holding out what appeared to be a piece of paper, "but the droids did find several of these under one of the pallets. They were still warm on their thermal sensors."

Gir grabbed it to discover that it was flimsiplast, but perhaps more importantly, it was colored two different colors. One side appeared to be the same color used by Vulca Mineral Corp's packing, while the other side had a color that matched that used by Osiris Corps almost impeccably. Gir inspected the piece carefully, noting some traces of adhesive across the outer edges of the sheet. But there also appeared to be an almost clear and gellatine film smeared across middle portions of the sheet. He handed the sheet to Gordian as he turned his eyes on the soldier.

"And you are positive that there is nothing in there?"

"Nothing on our helmet scanners or those of the droids. I've called in our specialists sir, and they're on their way now. But I doubt that there's anything in there now."

A frown tugged at Gir's lips, "Very well. I'll leave it to you. You will send these to analysis at the lab?"

The soldier shifted his weight to the side, "I generally let the specialists take care of that, though if you would like, I can walk some samples down to the lab personally."

"Please do so," said Gir, "after you are relieved by the new team coming in."

"Understood sir."

Gir gave the soldier a brief nod even as he led Gordian James away from the cargo hold.

 

[Gir Quee]

Gordian James turned his head towards Gir as they continued down the corridors of the Tide. Ethereal green and blue light danced upon their faces from the ship's organoform circuitry, making them appear grostesque and foreign despite having known each other for years. Gir found himself walking slower and slower before noticed a growing limp in his mentor's right leg. The old man noticed Gir's glance before looking up at Gir. He opened his mouth to say something, but suddenly the corridor was flooded with scientific droids and technicians hauling gear towards the cargo hold the pair had just left. Gir pressed himself to the side of the corridor, as did Gordian James did on the other side, until the ensemble had passed them. The two men continued onward in an silence. Well, this isn't awkward at all..

"You were going to say something before they all showed up?"

"The ship has a lab," said the James, "I was going to ask about its capabilities, but I think I just got a pretty good understanding of its capabilities now. You have a lot of advanced gear onboard."

Gir hesitated, "For the moment, but it won't always be like this. Two of the Tide's medbays have been converted into analysis labs for the exploration of Antas IV and the examination of possible lifeforms."

"I thought the initial surveys were focused on mining. That's why most of us here, isn't it?" said the older man, halting to lean up against a bulkhead.

"Lucerne Labs has an interest not only in the world's Iridium deposits," said Gir, "but also in genetics through a subsidiary, though I'll admit that role is secondary to the colony's charter's primary purpose. Do you feel all right?"

Gordian hesitated, "Age does things to your body, as you can imagine. I'm probably just tired."

"Go get some rest," said the blonde man, "I'll square things away with Lonmoz and keep you informed."

"All right."

 

[Gir Quee]

Lonmoz didn't answer his comlink, nor was he present at Osiris temporary office, which forced Gir to leave a message with that company's protocol droid to hand off to the defel. In truth, Gir was glad that he didn't have to interact with the representative; he would now have more time in his rack before he would have to take his watch. He meandered down the halls of the Tide's corridors for some minutes before he finally reached the suite of rooms that he shared with Salmakk and Kolit. Neither were in. According to a hastily scrawled note on a piece of flimsiplast, Salmakk had taken Kolit on a tour of the ship. Still dressed in his duty uniform, Gir reclined in his bunk, imagining what a tour would be like with one of the ship's chief architects and a neophyte who only recently learned the difference between the terms "port" and "starboard". He had just nodded off into a lightest stage of sleeping when his comlink buzzed. Initially perplexed by its incessant tones, Gir just managed to flick the right button to answer the call.

"Captain Quee here."

"Captain, this is Mister Yrolos down at Aurek laboratory. We have identified traces of the oozing material found in the cargo hold as being Flexi-Skin."

"Some sort of artificial material then? Not natural?"

"Artificially engineered," expounded the man, "most of it these days is vat-cloned in large sheets, though the exact genetic sequencing varies by the producer. The one that we found follows the original sequencing to a patent held by BioGears Unlimited."

"Does that tell us what we found?"

The disembodied voice hesitated, "It suggests, but it is not conclusive, that we have a Bio-hound, or bio-hounds onboard the Tide. It's a type of engineered cyborg that the old Empire used to track or kill people...think of it as an artificial bloodhound the size of a mouse."

Gir could easily think of a half dozen people on the ship, himself included, that someone could potentially have motive to kill for political reasons. Yet he couldn't fully discount the possibilities of corporate espionage or personal grudges as potential motives for the bio-hound's involvement as well. As a potential passenger and warship, the Tide had a great number of security measures throughout the ship that would have made traditional methods of tracking or killing much more difficult than normal. It seemed to Gir that whoever employed the Biohound knew some of the ship's secuirty features such as the extensive use of code cylinders, holocams, grav traps, and a host of other minor technologies. The biohound evaded these measures by its very concept, which made Gir think that it was inside job somewhere within the ship. More likely than not, that person also had a connection to Osiris or Vulca mineral corporations as well based on the being's unusual flimsiplast camouflage.

"Is there any way we could track such a...thing...on our ship?"

"Working on that sir."

"Excellent. Keep me informed then."

"Yes sir."

 

[Gir Quee]

The analyst ended his call with call, allowing the man to grab a few uneasy hours of sleep before his alarm went off. He rose from the bunk to see Kolit and Salmakk sitting at the table in the center room of the suite, quietly discussing some matter of ship design over cups of steaming c-tea. As Gir shuffled into the room and stretched, the pair stopped their conversation and looked up at him.

"A bio-hound's on the loose I hear," said Salmakk, glancing at the inside of his tea-cup.

Gir nodded, "It's a distinct possibility."

"It seems amazing," blurted out Kolit, "I mean, cool and amazing in that it exists sort of by...but it's also terrifying...you know...I'll shut up now."

"There's a lot of strange and foreign things in the galaxy," said the blonde man, pouring himself a cup of tea, "but their interpretation as being strange and exotic depends on the viewer. A biohound is probably something pretty ho-hum to a Lurrian, whereas something like the Tide is probably fantastical to them."

"Curiousity and wonderment are good qualities to cultivate," said Salmakk, "but shouldn't you be worried about how this is going to affect our stop at the Honia System? I will bet that they will want us quarantined once they know that there are biohounds onboard."

"Hopefully we'll catch it," said Gir, taking a sip of his tea, "or rather its, which would solve that problem nicely."

Salmakk savored some of the dark tea before swallowing it in a single gulp, "That's being optimistic. We designed the Tide to have good security against boarders and all too curious passengers, but not for a threat like this."

"I saw a pair of hound droids when I was leaving the cargo bay. If it can be tracked, we will find it...eventually."

"That doesn't sound reassuring."

"Maybe not," admitted Gir, finishing his cup, "but that is all I have to offer. I'm off to the bridge. Give me a half hour to settle in there, and either of you can be free to join me."

Salmakk glanced at his datapad's built-in chrono feature, "I think we will be in bed adjusting to our time zone change."

"Thanks for the offer though, Uncle Gir."

 

[Gir Quee]

Gir left the suite and almost walked straight into the backsides of a pair of Directorate marines standing outside his door. One of them turned around, and quickly motioned for the other soldier to do so. Gir stared into each of their black visors.

"I'm going to guess that Master Sergeant Tyrol assigned you to guard me."

One of the armored figures bobbed his head up and down.

"Yes sir."

"I'm headed to the bridge," said the blonde man, "tell me what you've heard about the search. I assume that at least one of you has been monitoring the search teams traffic channels."

The three proceeded down the corridors to the bridge, with one Private Fobbs briefing him about the search. The Tide's chief of security had implemented a conventional two-pronged approach to capturing the suspected bio-hound. The first had been the active use of search teams, with several being headed by the ship's few specialized specialized security sensor droids, though several teams were employing scout droids originally intended for exploring Antas IV for the same purpose. Thus far, traces of the bio-hound had been found on no less than four decks, ranging as far forward as the vertical hangar shaft and as far aft as the ship's primary hypermatter generator. That space engulfed much of the ship's living quarters, which seemed to reflect the intruder's interest with a particular person onboard the ship. The second prong focused on controlling movement within the ship itself by the use of armed guards at key intersections within the ship, automated checkpoints, as well as very careful electronic monitoring of the ship through door and power socket access records, holocam footage, and a handful of internal sensors. As difficult as a bio-hound was to detect normally, there were only so many places it could hide within the relatively small confines of the ship. Gir worried not that it wouldn't be caught, but that it would injure or kill someone before that event occurred. But everywhere they walked, Gir seemed to see nothing but Directorate marines and security droids, which gave him a measure of comfort. The trio walked through the foyer along with other members of the oncoming shiftinto the CIC-style bridge. As officers and droids began their change of watch procedures, Hopkins and Gir hovered over a holo-tank displaying the Tide's projected travel route.

"The probe has arrived at the Honia system," informed the other officer, "based on its sensor telemetry, our computers estimate that we will arrive in two hours."

Gir nodded as his eyes gazed on the dazzling green and blue orb, "Any word from the probe about the Honia system itself?"

"Initial scans suggest life as usual. Oh, I do suppose it's worth mentioning that our scan attracted the attention of one of their customs ships. They did a flyby of the probe and scanned it. They seem to be pretty regularly pinging it."

"Sounds like they're on alert for something."

 

[Gir Quee]

"Most customs forces are," said Hopkins, "perhaps they think that the probe is being used by smugglers to gather intelligence."

"With our transponder broadcasting from it?" said Gir, briefly tossing his head, "I suppose they may suspect that the transponder is fake. That would be a clever ruse, especially if you knew that they knew that we were coming."

Hopkins glanced at his wrist chrono, "You'll have to tell me if you find out what that's about. With your permission, I am going to get some chow before hitting the rack."

"Of course," said Gir, "enjoy your time off."

Hopkins shuffled away to join the last remnants of his shift leaving through the bridge foyer. Gir ran through some basic astronav calculations at the holo-tank to confirm the route and its estimated ETA before he paced over to log into the chief officer's station. Once the login screen faded, he found himself staring at a long list of messages. Many were routine reports from section chiefs, though Gir found a handful of more interesting messages from the corporations onboard regarding the colonization process of Antas IV, as well as a detailed report on Bio-hounds from Yrolos. As unusual as the cyborg and its sudden appearance onboard the Tide, Gir quickly found himself losing interest in the report as Yrolos delved into the genetic analysis. He skimmed through those sections before stopping to fully read the report's conclusion and recommendations. Some of the content seemed to view the bio-hound as an oddity to be explored as a piece of wildlife in its natural habitat, which made Gir wonder if it was simply lifted text from a book of standard creature tracking procedures, or if Yrolos really had an intense interest in understanding the creature and its methods. His headset comlink buzzed, causing Gir to tap the earpiece.

"Captain Quee speaking."

"Captain, this is Sergeant Oitusde, we have located and captured the remains of the bio-hound."

Gir raised an eyebrow. Captured the remains? It seemed an unusual bit of phrasing to him. By word choice alone, he would have thought that Basic was the speaker's second language. Yet the voice's diction did not suggest that in the least, which made him even more curious.

"What happened exactly, sergeant?"

"We investigated a tripped grav-trap alarm on the seventh deck, right near the Vulca Mineral Corps offices," said the soldier, "and when we came here, we found this smeared, translucent glob all over the trap, as well as scattered and crumbled electrical components. My guess sir is that the trap continued to increase the strength of the field as continued to detect the bio-hound travelling across it, leading the trap to crush and tear bits it apart until it was inoperable."

"Secure the site and cordon off the surrounding areas if you haven't done so. A Mister Yrolos will be coming to investigate it."

"He's already here sir."

"I see," said Gir, "well then, keep me informed. I leave it in Mister Yrolos's hands."

"Yes sir."