Episode 115, Snoop
10 Oct 2024Ryuko Ntsikana
Episode 115, Snoop
Outer Rim System
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The thing about occupied systems is they all have a navigation beacon that records every ship, regardless of its size. For anyone attempting to hide their true motivations, it becomes a double-edged sword. The arrogant and overconfident tend to dismiss it; the ignorant simply don’t think about it at all. But the truth is, every object large enough to house a facility or support commercial shipping orbits something—a moon, a planet, or the system’s main star. These gravitational anchors provide more than just stability; they serve as navigational markers, guiding the flow of shipping traffic, and offering a visible, tangible target against the vast blackness of space.
For those with more subtle methods, traversing normal space becomes an art. Gravitational forces offer a means to maintain and even increase unassisted velocities. Ships slipping through the system can take advantage of these forces, relying on the sheer invisibility of black nothingness while controlling heat levels to remain undetectable by even the most sophisticated sensors.
In the hands of a skilled pilot, like Nyx Voss, of the Coterie, these gravitational wells and natural bodies weren’t just obstacles or destinations—they were tools. And when used properly, they turned the very surveillance mechanisms that ran these systems into blind spots for those who knew how to exploit them.
On the rim, to a casual observer, the Diamondback Scout would seem like a typical, low-budget explorer vessel—a ship piloted by someone working their way up to a more advanced Diamondback Explorer class. Upon its arrival, the system's navigation beacon would record its entry, and the ship’s course would be tracked to the planetary body where the system’s main station was in orbit. From there, tracking would cease, giving the impression that the ship had dropped into normal space and docked with the station.
But for those familiar with the finer details of ships, the Diamondback Scout was more than just a stepping stone for explorers—it was a stealth masterpiece. Its small frame and exceptional heat management capabilities made it the go-to choice for pilots looking to slip through systems unnoticed. For those seeking more than simple exploration, it was a near-perfect platform for covert operations.
Nyx had taken his Diamondback Scout a step further. While most stealth ships relied on temporarily closing their heat vents to avoid detection, this solution was always limited by time—eventually, the heat would build to dangerous levels, forcing the pilot to reengage systems to cool down, revealing their position in the process. Nyx, however, had engineered those weaknesses out of his ship. His modifications allowed him to maintain a heat signature below 20%, even with all systems running at full capacity.
In Nyx's hands, the ship became a ghost. A person could visually spot him before their sensors ever would, and as long as he stayed out of the direct line of sight, his ship would blend into the cosmic background, effectively lost to the unsuspecting eye. It was stealth at its finest—silent, undetectable, and deadly.
Using gravity as his primary form of propulsion, Nyx had spent nearly two galactic standard days in normal space, silently drifting from the far side of the moon—where the system’s main orbital station was located—toward a capital ship perched closer to the system’s host star. He had passed the ship once already, creating the appearance of a weary explorer heading to the station. Now, he was approaching it again, this time from a quartering angle that would bring him within 800 meters of his target.
At that range, the small Diamondback Scout, already difficult to spot due to its size, was nearly invisible. Its heat levels were so low that it wouldn’t show up on the carrier’s scanners, and to anyone glancing out into the void, it would be indistinguishable from the countless specks of space debris. At most, someone might notice something pin-sized, moving in the distance, and dismiss it as a meteorite.
Nyx’s approach brought him well within the 1200-meter maximum range of his recon limpet drones. Normally, these drones were used to steal data from mega-ships after scanning them, but a scan would reveal his presence—and Nyx wasn’t here to steal data directly. Instead, his plan was more subtle. He would launch two limpet drones to attach themselves to the hull of the capital ship, near the aft engineering section. Once in place, they would passively absorb transmissions—both internal and external—collecting all relevant information about the ship’s systems, crew, and cargo.
The drones were designed to be stealthy, and undetectable until they were already transmitting. Once they had gathered the information, they would send it back to Nyx. On receiving confirmation of transmission, the drones would self-terminate, dissolving into debris small enough to pass as harmless wreckage.
The transmission would, of course, be detected by the carrier’s systems, and the capital ship would scramble to investigate the interference. They would undoubtedly find the remnants of the drones and know they had been targeted—but not by whom or why. By the time the crew realized what had happened, Nyx would be long gone, having jumped out of the system to a safe location where he could transmit the gathered intelligence to the Coterie.
His ship continued its quiet, unseen glide toward the carrier as Nyx prepared to deploy the limpet drones. His steady hand hovered over the controls, the quiet hum of his ship’s systems barely audible in the silence of space. He had done this before; he knew the timing and precision required. And he knew that, in just a few moments, the capital ship’s secrets would be his.
Fleet Carrier
Pegasi Sector MS-T c3-14
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With the carrier now stationed in the edge systems of the rim and positioned at a reasonable distance, three of the five Coterie members who had used their earnings to acquire and engineer new ships had returned. Avariel had upgraded to a freshly engineered Krait Mk II, while Corvus had traded in his trusty Vulture for a more versatile Python Mk II. Ryuko, as promised, had bought Lysandra’s Cobra Mk IV from her, allowing her to upgrade to a Type-8 transport. The fleet was an eclectic mix, with Raven’s Krait Phantom and Nyx’s prized Diamondback Scout rounding out the assortment.
As with most things involving her human companion, Tara’s processing core worked tirelessly to understand Ryuko’s reasoning behind the purchase of Lysandra’s old ship. On the surface, it made little sense; a Cobra Mk IV was an odd choice for someone as calculating and opportunistic as Ryuko. Yet, after working alongside him for so long, she knew that whatever conclusion she might logically derive was probably a false lead. His patterns were erratic—deliberately so. Ryuko thrived in misdirection, always keeping those around him guessing, including her.
She scanned the data streams and assessed the new fleet, contemplating how each ship might serve in Ryuko’s grander scheme. There were numerous possibilities, but as always, the real answer would be revealed when Ryuko was ready. Until then, she knew that whatever plan he had in mind was already in motion.
In the officer’s mess, Ryuko lounged in his chair, a bemused expression on his face as he read from his tablet. His feet were kicked up onto the table, his demeanor casual. An android attendant refilled his zero-g coffee tumbler without a word. Around him, the Coteries mingled—minus Nyx, who was away on a mission. Meredith and his daughter Ashlyn sat nearby, with Jabir, Lianna, Ceri, and Tara scattered among them. To the untrained eye, Tara appeared to be sitting quietly across from Ryuko, as though waiting. But to Ryuko, she was reading the same data he was, right off the em waves from his tablet.
Ryuko glanced up, his eyes flickering toward Ceri, who sat slightly removed from the group. Her discomfort was palpable, especially as the Coteries boasted about their newly acquired and engineered ships. The gap between her past and present was still a chasm, and Ryuko could see it weighing on her. He shifted his gaze subtly to Tara, who blinked in acknowledgment, reading the unspoken message.
Lowering his eyes back to the tablet, Ryuko spoke, his voice calm but deliberate. “As I anticipated, they’ve moved all but two of their capital assets back, leaving just two positioned one system further out.”
The conversation among the others quieted slightly as the gravity of the situation set in. The Coterie may have been boasting, but they knew when to listen. Tara's thoughts processed the deeper meaning behind Ryuko’s words. This was a strategic development, a shift in the balance of power in the region. The move of these assets wasn’t random—it was a calculated play, one Ryuko had likely anticipated from the start.
Lianna, who had been casually listening, furrowed her brow. “And what does that mean for us?”
Ryuko’s grin widened, his eyes flickering with a mix of amusement and cold calculation. “It means we’re exactly where we need to be. Now, we see if they’re willing to play the game.”
Jabir leaned forward, intrigued but cautious. “And if they don’t?”
Ryuko gave a casual shrug, his gaze drifting lazily back to his tablet. “Then that’s their problem. But either way, it won’t stop us from profiting.”
Tara remained silent, her eyes momentarily drifting across the officer’s mess to where Aby stood near the entrance, eerily still. Then, with careful precision, her gaze slid back across the room, catching Ceri in its sweep before returning to Ryuko.
He looked up from his tablet, meeting her eyes with that familiar, self-satisfied grin.