Week 33 + Audiobook
07 Aug 2023Ryuko Ntsikana
Week 33
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By Trade.
Location: Sacaqawea Space Port.
Planetary Outpost.
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The first new day, or relative day Monty mentally corrected himself, was spent walking the various levels, familiarizing himself with the dark corners where someone could go, if they wanted to get out of sight. Monty knew there was nothing he needed to worry about, as the entity had proven itself to be more than capable of dealing with any issues. It was those situations that Monty wanted to avoid. Having to explain an incident to the local security services or worse, having the entity deem it necessary to resolve the issue.
It found it necessary to have his old inspector identification back on his person, which if searched by the security services, could raise questions, which could lead to an incident Monty wanted to avoid at all cost. The entity assured him that its presence was necessary, as would be its future use, without going into details. Only that a potential resolution to the question which had been plaguing him, may have presented itself.
Monty felt a pang at the ominous finality of the entity's tone. It was so ingrained into the very fibers of life that defined him as human, that there was no avoidance of the course he was on. As if he had a choice in the matter, to begin with! he chuckled to himself.
It did no good to depress himself with these facts. If he cried in his morning coffee too long, it would only stifle the biochemical reactions, reducing his ability to express any emotion outside of abject numbness. ‘No,’ Monty thought. ‘Knowledge was power, and in this, he needed to learn everything he could about the trail ahead of Xochitl, and the space around him.'
A nice couple had recently arrived from the Colonia region, on a two-day layover, until a connecting fleet carrier, depositing its load of precious Tritium fuel to other nearby carriers, would be heading back to the bubble, flush with passengers and their credits. Which would be used to purchase several thousand tons of Tritium, to bring back out along the highway, only to rinse and repeat the process at a healthy profit margin.
Monty wondered why Xochitl, a ship mechanic by trade, was not working the highway. With the range and resources a carrier gave her, she could make billions. ‘But that isn’t her way,’ Monty reminded himself. ‘Credits meant as much to her as they would to a Thargoid. Something shiny, yet meaningless. Their worth was what the greedy gave them, and she cared as much for greed as she did for credits.’
Monty chuckled at the thought, pulling his data tablet out of his side pocket and began his approach toward the couple.
Esoteric.
Location: Beluga Liner. Rocky planetary body.
Dryooe Flyou Sector, Scutum-Crux Arm.
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Zooey marveled at the sight around her as the rays of the distant local star peaked above the horizon, illuminating the metallic rings of the gas giant above the moon she was standing on. Once more, her name had been added to the historical records, as Xochitl waited in the Scorpion combat vehicle nestled among the rim of the mountain peak.
When it came to navigating rough terrain, mountains, and deep canyons, the Scorpion was the vehicle of choice. It could take hits that the lighter Scarab reconnaissance vehicle could not and had far better ground pressure and raw power, granting it the capability of climbing near-vertical structures. Its jump thrust ability was sharply reduced due to its combat weight, but that lessening of capability was more than made up for in every other way.
Standing on a mountain peak that no other human eyes had ever seen, nor set foot on, Zooey stood transfixed in her esoteric experience, feeling connected to the larger universe surrounding her. There were no words she could think of to describe what she was witnessing or how she felt about it. Here she was, a person time would have passed by and forgotten, now inscribed in perpetuity. Someday, in some part of the universe, someone would be studying the ancient records of the past and her name. Not forgotten but alive forever. Looking back at the rim, she wondered, how do you describe something like that?
The sound the genetic sampler made in her helmet’s headset snapped her attention back to what she was here to do, as she looked around, spotting the mycelium fungal sample. It was more commonly called and shortened to Fungoida in the biological database. Zooey was learning a new skill out here in the back stars of nowhere. Scanning, tracking, isolating, and sampling biological discoveries for the universal codex.
This was far removed from the drudgery of bridge duty or the on-edge nature of security services. Not that there was anything to be wary of when so far removed from larger humanity. Zarathustra liked to keep everyone honed to a fine edge. Working in engineering could be entertaining, when she learned about what she was looking at. The way plasma moved through the magnetic corridors of the plasma channels throughout the ship, or how elements became something more, when manipulated to make something other than their base.
All the flotsam she had collected as a dredger, being reduced, refined, and repurposed as something other than what it was when she found it. Like the various metals and minerals she learned how to mine from asteroid rings. Reducing them into their base element, to combine, mold, and machine them into something unrecognizable from their prior form. She learned about the physics of the larger universe, and then how to manipulate and use it to her advantage when flying one of the carrier’s ships or one of the smaller fighters.
Xochitl wore a sheepish grin on her face, watching Zooey from her seat in the Scorpion vehicle. She knew what was going through her mind. It had once gone through her own when she was learning about the larger nature of everything that surrounded her. In time she knew, it would all become second nature to her. Xochitl only hoped she didn’t loose her youthful enthusiasm for it and become jaded by the ugliness of the reality that always lurked below its surface.
Patsy.
Location: Sacaqawea Space Port.
Planetary Outpost.
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It took time to move along the communications pathways, as the entity wormed its way through hundreds of various nodes, resting inside one matching its requirements. Its network security protocols were of a high enough level to make its users believe they could not be infiltrated, adding to the false assumption that the information it was adding was reliable.
The amount of those wanted in the bubble, who were making their way to Colonia for a fresh start, provided a range of offenses for it to choose from. Selecting one of the more vile of their numbers, it proceeded to adjust the records, generating a condition that would immediately flag the security services of its host location upon arrival to the system.
Separate routines were already at work in other systems, maintaining their host status as active in their previous position, listing them as a Federation non-official cover operative or (NOC), and seeking out those who were fleeing from justice. This would maintain Monty’s status with his old position, placing him where his prior boss would not be able to question his status, as it would be above their security classification, and allow for the entity to provide their host with a suitable and expendable middleman.
As Monty rested, the security systems at the planetary outpost were updated in preparation for the arrival of their chosen asset. If Xochitl immolated them, there was no loss. In fact, she would be doing humanity a service, and the message would be delivered without risking its host. The final change was a communique to the head of the system’s security services from the head of the Federation security, detailing who Monty was and his purpose in their system. It was to him that the chosen one would be handed over as the position of Xochitl’s carrier drew nearer.