Conditions
03 Oct 2023Ryuko Ntsikana
Part Tweleve
Conditions
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One of the security staff officers noticed the repeated Federation inquiries about a subject of interest whose ship was docked at their facility. The subject was listed as a patient undergoing a surgical procedure that very day. They understood that a lack of detailed information regarding the Federation's interest was not uncommon. Based on their experience, when a Federation investigator-initiated an inquiry, their subject was far from the usual petty criminal.
The officer promptly informed the chief of security, who, in turn, sent an inquiry to the operating staff. They dispatched a medical android to visually inspect the operations bay.
Zooey sat on the operating table, with the unconscious surgeon lying on the floor near the wall where she had left him. The monitors closest to her had resumed operation, as had the robotic arms. The symbiote needed these systems to be functional to transmit a warning without Zooey's knowledge. It also became aware of Inspector Gladsen's frequent inquiries and recent developments, including the approach of the medical android.
With little time for subtlety, it expanded through the network, discovering several open pathways into the android. It infected and hijacked its systems just as the android reached the operating bay observation window. The android paused, looking through the observation window at the surgeon’s unconscious body, then to Zooey sitting on the operating table. All was as it should be, or so its new directives stated, as it reported that everything was proceeding as normal with the false recorded addition of the surgeon asking to not be disturbed until they had finished.
The ruse was temporary, at best. Subjectively, time was not on their side, and it needed more of that, time. The best vessel to give what it needed more of was unconscious on the floor. There were no points of access inside of the surgeon, as the surgical bay was non-conductive and his eyes were closed preventing luminary transmission. The other part of the equation was sitting on the operating table and not likely to cooperate unless it felt instinctively compelled to do so. The more time the shade spent inside of her brain's higher functions, the looser her grip would become, but that also required time.
The bay door unsealed as the medical android stepped in, walking over to the surgeon as Zooey watched it with an inquisitive expression. In and of itself the medical android was not a triggering entity, as it paid no attention to Zooey, avoiding direct eye contact. It was the needed bridge to parse a part of itself into the surgeon, as the android lifted the surgeon’s eyelids to examine their pupil's dilation response, giving direct access through the android’s eyes and through the surgeon’s retina and into their brain.
Infestation, integration, and repair of the concussion would take several minutes. The android would provide a useful physical shield if an uncontrollable and primal Zooey lashed out. The key was time, and the nanobots maintaining synaptic connection to the neural processor. If that could be disrupted, it could subdue and protect her.
The external issue was those who were chasing after her. Not the simple ones of the potential nearer future, but those thousands of light-years distant, still en route to this location.
Monty sat exhausted on the comforter in Xochitl’s quarters, half listening to Rex and others. He couldn’t remember the last time he had a decent sleep. Attempts at self-medicating himself with the various liquors at the crews' lounge did nothing to relax him. On the contrary, it made his fatigue worse. Going to the ship's doctor for a sedative was becoming an option his ego was losing the fight against.
His appearance and lack of attention were not lost on the others present, but each in turn focused on their own conversations except Xochitl’s assistant, Avery. Avery’s interest peaked as Monty’s head hung lower with each breath, a subtle sigh of exhaustion escaping with each exhale.
The records of his communications back to the bubble were extensive, bordering on obsessive, as he kept track of Zooey’s location. His movements through the ship were few and to the point. Either it was to get food or have a drink. Replaying the security feed from those times, his appearance had become more haggard with each venture. The solution to the problem was clear, as Avery notified the doctor.