Logbook entry

Wyatt Parish / 19 Apr 3305
A Scrap Heap in Space

1 January 3305

Parish keyed up his lens. "Computer, contact Joseline Cortez. Tell her to meet me in the public flight bay. Also make sure she clears her schedule for the day." He continued walking down to the docking bay as he continued to look at his lens. He reviewed everything he had been told so far in his head. Prince had the ship delivered her a few days ago, and Parish had yet to see it. He knew nothing about it. Prince had made it very clear that he thought Parish shouldn't be on this mission, and that a Federal Agent should be taking the job. Never the less, the Admiral of the Fleet ordered Prince to assign him, so he did. But that wouldnt stop Prince from making the mission as hard as possible and as dangerous as possible. 

A message flashed on his lens. "Incoming message: Ship is docked. When you get to the dockmasters office, log onto the computer using code DRS26474080." Parish was near the dockmasters office already. "Computer, display sender." Another message flashed on his lens. Sender Unknown. Parish sighed. Parish assumed his complete cut off from the Feds began now. Parish entered the dockmasters office quietly. He nodded the dockmaster who was looking at a datapad. He hadnt bothered to turn the transparency off and Parish could see the cam videos he was watching through the pad.

 Parish walked to the computer and entered the code. Access Granted. Docking Bay 39: Ship Name: Unknown. Ship Class: Unknown. Owner: Unknown. Parish turned the computer off and walked out, heading for pad 39. "Computer, inform Cortez to meet at pad 39." Parish walked along looking out windows as he went. A brand new and polished Anaconda was landing. A few vipers bearing the Federal Envoys touched down next to each other. A variety of transport and exploration vessels landed and took off. He was almost to the viewing bay of Pad 39. Parish suppressed his smile and picked up the pace. When he reached the window, he stopped.

Parish knew the ship needed to be inconspicuous if he was to investigate the mystery. He didnt expect much, maybe a Cobra Mk III, Mk IV if he was lucky. Parish was wrong. Sitting in front of him was a scrap pile with engines. He inspected the ship from front to back. Paint was peeling off. It had dents and scratches. Plates were welding on in several locations and barrels were on her hull. Makeshift fins and random spikes dotted the ship in random places. He recognized the Mamba that was underneath the junk pile in front of him. Painted along her sides, was the name, with tallies indicated something parish didnt know.

Shaky Kate. His rust bucket of a ride. Parish took the elevator down and stepped into the bay. He knew the ship wouldnt be state of the art but he expected better than this. She didnt even look like she could fly in space. Parish interfaced with the ships computer. He triggered the boarding elevator. It got stuck coming down. He had to climb up and activate the emergency unlock. He boarded it and entered the ship. Exposed wires and panels were everywhere. The inside looked as bad as the outside. He called up a display of the ships design. He navigated to the bridge, passing what he guessed were personal quarters . It had a bunk bed and a small terminal, along with a tiny closet filled with a few flight suits. He passed a kitchen that was empty, with a small eating area attached. He finally entered the bridge. The seats were worn and the entire dashboard was covered in trinkets and parts, he keyed on his night vision and looked around in the dark for something to trigger the power. Finally, on a panel behnd the pilots seat, he was able to activate the power plant and the lights came on. Parish sat in pilots seat and said, "Ship, identify owner." The ship remained silent. "Ship, activate COVAS." Silence filled the cockpit. Parish got an idea.

"Kate, Identify owner." Parish said out loud. A female voice responded back to him. "Owner: Classified. Status: Deceased." Jesus, only ships built last century required the name to be used. Not only was the ship ugly and scrap, it was also old. "Kate, set new owner, name Wyatt Parish. Match my details." Parish felt a pinprick in the back of his neck as the ship registered is DNA and blood as the new owner. After several seconds, Parish heard "New owner verified. Ship restrictions enabled." Parish looked up as if glaring at the voice. "Restrictions? What restrictions?" The ship replied, "Restrictions set by previous owner, requires manual reprogramming."

"Manual programming? Specify." Kate replied. "Incorrect response, unauthorized access detected. Lethal response engaging." Parish jumped up and scrambled down the ladder out of the cockpit. A bright flash came from the cockpit as Parish slammed to the floor. He didnt move, wondering if the "lethal response" would track him out of the cockpit. After a few seconds, he decided it was safe to move again. He walked carefully to an access panel on the wall. Instead of turning it on, he unscrewed it and pulled it back. "What the fuck?" Parish said outloud. Behind the rusted access panel was military grade wiring and components. They looked brand new. He began to pull them apart and searched for the wires he was looking for. He found them, also military grade, and hooked it up to his datapad. He sorted through lines of code until he found the security specifications. Either the last owner was paranoid or very serious about his security. He slowly began disabling it, until something caught his eye. Normally, the button that said "Restore to factory settings" was grayed out. A small question mark was next to it. He clicked it. He read the text outloud to himself. SHIP SK-017 DOES NOT HAVE FACTORY SETTINGS. Possible Reasons: Custom Built, previous reprogramming, or possible military modification. Parish raised an eyebrow. He saw an incoming alert on his lens. "Accept call." he said.

"I see the rust bucket, why?" asked Cortez. Parish forwarded the schematics to her lens. "Come to me, heres the layout." He went to end the call, but stopped. "Also, be very careful." After a few minutes, Cortez appeared around the corner. "This is a fucking mess." she greeted him. "Yeah, this ship is an enigma. Ready for this?" Parish asked. She nodded and he revealed the military components to her. "Wow. I havnt seen electronics like this since I was on Starship One." He threw her the datapad. She scrolled through the notes. "Possible Military Modification?" she said allowed as he sorted piles of junk. "Computer, specify." She read the information on her lens. "Have you interfaced with the ship yet?" she called out. Parish poked his head around the corner, "Yeah why?" She forwarded the data to him, and he read it on his lens. Possible Military Modification: In 3214, the Federation custom made multiple ships for long range covert teams. They were designed using existing templates, but with full grade A military components. Several of these teams have been declared MIA, their ships not recovered. "Federation Black Ops?" Parish said outloud.  Cortez looked at him, "Do you think Prince sent you this ship on purpose?" Parish was silent for a moment. "I think he just saw the outside of the ship, and what the ship is saying its components are, and thought we would die in this ship." Parish replied as he accessed a datapad. "This ships registering as having grade D components all around, but you see what she actually has."

Cortez plugged her data pad back in. "Ill reprogram her with you as the owner." Parish said nothing and continued to move through the ship, taking a quick survey of what was on board. He found a science room, full of equipment he didnt know of. He had no clue if that was also military grade. Also on board was a engineering station, again with military components. Each compartment he found was military grade. When he got to the power plant, he was confused by what he saw. The ship had a model of a power plant mixed with tech that didnt even look human OR Thargoid. The drives were the same technology. He returned to Cortez with his findings.

"Well, weve got alot of work to do. Lets fix her up!" Parish said as he got to work.
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