Chasing Ghosts II: Black Static
12 Aug 2023Maul Montresor
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"I wasn't worried before I was born
Why would I worry after I'm gone
With a head full of this smoke
That don't help none"
"I wasn't worried before I was born
Why would I worry after I'm gone
With a head full of this smoke
That don't help none"
It had been a few weeks since I started investigating the disappearance of Sepultus Memoriae. A handful of the leads I'd garnered had led to nothing. But this latest one was interesting. See, I'd been using security and traffic report files that I'd skimmed from the nav beacon in the system that the ship had last been seen in and followed some of the estimated trajectories that were logged upon the ship's high wake out of the system. Without knowing the exact jump range of the ship, this made for a tedious task that more times than not, led to nothing. But I'd finally found a trail that led to a system that housed a single prison facility. Though, the ship no longer appeared to be in the system. Regardless, progress is progress. My excitement quickly dwindled as I noticed the system was also without a nav beacon. The prison facility located within the system seemed to monitor all the traffic itself and that lead to another problem. With the extensive list of crimes and bounties on my record, I can't exactly waltz into the facility asking for information on a missing ship that may or may not have passed through the system. They'd do one scan on me and slap me in a cell for months, maybe years.
So plan B was to do a little social engineering, weasel my way into the facilities network, and find the information myself. Unfortunately, that plan had only half worked. With what little access I was able to gain, I had only been able to get my hands on a list of current employees. One of the people on that list happened to be Christoph Dox. He's one of the few poor shmucks that oversees the systems traffic and subsequently writes a report on any oddities or potential threats that he deems worth noting. A real glorified keyboard monkey. I was able to dig up his work schedule and discovered that Mr. Dox stays at the facility 2 weeks at a time, working in rotation. After that, he heads back to his home station for 2 weeks before heading back in. The job even pays for his transport to and from the facility on a cushy passenger ship and furnishes a nice room within the facility while he's there. Pretty sweet gig honestly.
Right, so that's how I had managed to find myself standing in the living room of Christoph Dox's impressively large station-side apartment. Bookshelves made up half of the walls here. It was odd to see so many physical books when these days everything is within our digital grasp. He was clearly a collector of sorts and judging by the amount of Cubeo Gold Whiskey bottles on some of the other shelves, he also appeared to be quite the drinker.
I walked along the length of one of the bookshelves, picking up one with an enticing title; "Roadside Picnic". I flipped through a few pages before sliding it back into its place on the shelf. At the other end of the shelf, a bottle of whiskey sat on a table accompanied by an empty glass. Picking up the bottle and feeling the heft of it instantly took me back about 9 years to a period in my life when I used to work as a bartender back home on Dalton Gateway. I always enjoyed hearing the stories and adventures of the various pilots that'd drag in. Some of the locals would gather around to listen and dream of living such lives as these men and women, while others scoffed at the idea of romanticizing such a dangerous life. I wanted to make that dream a reality for myself...and well, I guess I did. But nowadays I find myself wondering more and more why I'd wanted this kind of life in the first place.
I poured myself a glass and took a sip, breathing in the old familiar aroma from the glass. I used to hate alcohol. I mean, I absolutely despised the stuff. The way it tasted, the way it made me feel...but these days I'm so chock-full of nasty shit that I don't even think about it anymore.
"Oh, how the mighty have fallen." I said to myself with a snicker, staring into the glass, knowing good and well that I'd never been all that mighty and had been falling down this spiral for years. Popping a few pills in my mouth and holding up the glass with the other, I toasted to no one in particular and downed the pills with the remaining whiskey.
I closed my eyes. There it was, that oh-so-familiar feeling. The tingling you get as a harmful substance enters your body, numbing every inch as it works its way into your system. Slowly killing you, but you don't care anymore. A brief respite from it all. The black static.
I checked the time and set the empty glass back on the table. Christoph's shuttle had likely docked by now and he would be home soon.
I made myself comfortable in the leather chair that was placed near the table. It was comfortable, worn in a bit but still comfortable. This must have been his "drinking chair". As I relaxed further into the chair, I began thinking back to when I was a kid. My Dad had his favorite chair he'd always sit in. Every day when he and Mom would return home from work, he'd flop into his chair and kick off his boots while Mom threw a few food cartridges into the "Chef" to prepare dinner. Thinking back, I'd realized that I never really got to see either of them very much. Just a few hours before bed and not much else. They seemed to work all the damn time, but it was that or have nothing. Life was expensive on the station.
They were both agricultural workers, but most people back home were. It was what the station was known for, after all. I hated it, tending to crops and all that. Sounded boring then and sounds boring now. I remember just staying in my room watching movies or playing around with whatever broken gadgets Mom would bring home from work for me to mess around with. She always tried to make sure I was learning, even if I didn't realize it. Meanwhile, Dad was always going on about working hard, helping others, and telling me to always be true to myself. Looking back, I wish we'd been able to spend more time together. But they did what any parent would do to make ends meet while trying to make their child's life as comfortable as possible. Considering I haven't spoken to them in years, it's fair to say I've turned out to be a shitty son. That's not their fault, though. I've cut ties with a lot of people over these past few years. With as much trouble as I find myself in, it just seems to be best if I just stay distant from everyone I care about. After all, loved ones are a weakness in the eye of an enemy.
Checking the time again, I decided to remove my modded Karma p-15 from the holster hidden beneath my jacket and put my focus on the door. These are the moments that feel the longest. Knowing something is rapidly approaching but it's ultimately out of your control. It gets the adrenaline pumping and as strange as it may be, I like it.
The door began to slide open and I quickly engaged my suit's helmet to mask my identity. A green-illuminated skull haphazardly painted on the visor served no purpose other than to attempt to potentially intimidate others. It rarely worked, but I liked how it looked.
Christoph stepped through the doorway and tossed the bag hanging from his shoulder onto the floor before looking up to see me in his drinking chair. That's about the time I noticed a child that had entered behind him. With what background I could find on him, I knew that Christoph had a child with his ex-wife but had no idea that he'd have the damn kid with him today.
"...Son of a..." I muttered under my breath.
This complicated things. Christoph was visibly shaken by the sight of me but knew better than to try to do anything stupid with his child here. As far as he was aware, I was an unhinged madman with a gun...which is exactly what the station security reports would say if I were to get caught.
Christoph pulled his child closer to him. The kid clenched onto his father's jacket, burying his face into him and peeking at me with one terrified eye.
"D-daddy, who is that?!"
The kid looked to be about 5 or 6 years old if I were to guess. Tears were beginning to form in his one visible eye.
I quickly stood up from the chair which caused Christoph and his child to take a few steps back into the corner near the door. The kid was crying, latched onto his father's leg, and burying his face further to no longer see me. This wasn't how it was supposed to go.
"Listen, I'm not here to hurt either of you," I said, glancing down at the gun I was pointing at them.
"...I just need some information."
Christoph was shaking. The kid was still crying.
"I- Information? Wha- What about?"
He was talking over his child's weeping. His voice was shaking. He was both scared and angry.
I slowly slid the gun back under my jacket and into the holster, following that by putting my hands up and out in front of me to show them I meant no harm.
"There was a ship that passed through the system you work in. I know you're one of the guys that handle information on the traffic that comes and goes there. I just need to know what you know about a particular ship and I'll be on my way."
Christoph nodded nervously in agreement. From his perspective, he had no choice.
"H- How do I know you won't just kill-"
He looked down at his crying child and pushed the boy behind him, using himself as a shield.
"How do I know you won't harm us after I give you what you want?"
That was a fair question but I had no answers that could set him at ease. No matter what I'd say, it could be a lie for all he knows.
"Well, are you gonna give me a reason to hurt you?"
Christoph shook his head no. His tight curly hair bounced franticly as he did so. The sweat beads on his forehead began to trickle past the wrinkles and run down the bridge of his nose.
"Great then I won't. Now, I need you to tell me what you know about a ship called Sepultus Memoriae. Judging by my findings, it passed through the system about a month and a half ago. Does the name ring any bells?"
Christoph furrowed his brow as he thought.
"I- I don't know off the top of my head. I'd have to access the records at work and look through my reports."
"Can you log in remotely from here?" I asked, feeling this plan falling apart more every second.
"Yes, b-but it will look suspicious, they'll want to know w-why I-"
"Tell them the truth. A man threatened you at gunpoint." I said calmly, interrupting him. I wanted this over. The longer this went on, the guiltier I felt.
Christoph nodded and slowly kneeled to one of the bags he'd brought in with him. I wasn't too worried that he'd be packing heat, seeing as personal weapons were illegal here but then again, I snuck one through.
"No funny business," I said, placing my hand in my jacket closer to my pistol as a warning.
He nodded as he unzipped the bag and slowly pulled out a compact personal computer. After an extremely uncomfortable few minutes that felt like a lifetime, he briefly looked up at me before he began reading a description he'd written about the encounter with the missing ship 7 weeks ago.
"Sepultus Memoriae; a Bulk Cruiser Megaship. The mega-ship arrived in the system and immediately requested communications with the facility. Communications request was automatically approved and moved to a secure channel. Sepultus Memoriae appears to have been present 8 times in our traffic logs within the last year and is currently identified as an ally of this facility."
He sounded like a robot with the monotone way he'd read the information.
"A mega-ship?" I asked, confused. "You sure it was a mega-ship?"
"Y-yes. That's what I have written here. After contact was made, they'd sent a smaller ship launched from the mega-ship out to our facility."
What the fuck? Julie seemed to be under the impression that this thing was a 'ship'. I had anticipated finding an Anaconda or something. Not a fucking Bulk Cruiser Megaship! The ship's trail that I'd followed was making small enough jumps to make me believe it was a normal ship maybe even one engineered for long-distance travel but the nav data never once indicated that this was a mega-ship. The ID info read out as if this thing were a typical ship. No, there was something strange going on. I'd seen people spoof nav data before but it's usually done by criminals or political figures in an attempt to hide their trail or something. Now I had more questions than answers.
At this point, I'd realized that I had been quiet for too long and Christoph was beginning to look even more terrified. The fact that he couldn't see my face didn't help matters.
"Why would a science vessel be frequenting a prison facility so often?"
"T-that's above my paygrade." Christoph stammered. "My superiors would handle all communications with them after initial contact."
"Damn it, any idea where they were headed after leaving the system?"
I knew it was a long shot but I needed crumbs to follow if I was going to continue following their trail.
Christoph turned the screen towards me and pointed at a system name that was a series of numbers and letters.
"This was the destination they'd given us at the time. I always presumed they'd given it to us for their safety. Perhaps if something was to happen and they didn't make it to the location or if we didn't have contact with them in a certain amount of time that we'd be able to send a patrol out or report it."
"Well, did you guys send one out? Did you guys report the missing ship...ya know, missing?!"
My aggravated tone seemed to make Christoph uneasy.
"Y-yes of course!...or at least I assume so, considering that you're here looking for it."
Well, that explains how Julie knew it was missing and why Stefan was so willing to give it up when splitting assets. Stefan knew it was lost and instead of dealing with the rescue himself, he pawned the whole thing off on her. What it doesn't explain though, is why Stefan lied about it being some sort of converted ship and not a fucking mega-ship. Plus, by the sounds of It, the damn thing had been missing longer than Julie was led to believe. Hell, Stefan probably figured that she'd never find anyone stupid enough to chase after a missing ship in the first place. Boy, don't I feel fuckin' special...what a shitshow.
I pulled out my datapad and took a photo of the system name. Christoph didn't know anything else and there was no point in staying around making his child cry any longer than I had to.
"Thanks...Here, for the trouble."
I flashed a few credit chips in front of Christoph and tossed them in his bag on the floor as I left the apartment. I needed to get off the station and fast before he reported this to station security.
It was finally time to put an end to this wild goose chase.
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