Blood spilled from the man’s mouth.  The area around his lips were already entirely red, and the man looked to Brooks with desperate eyes.

Pirra appeared, scanner in hand.  She put her hands on the wound in the man’s stomach, attempting to staunch the bleeding.

But Brooks didn’t even need her to give him a shake of her head to know that there was no helping Nec Tede.

Brooks propped him up.  He did not think Tede was a good or honest man, but nonetheless he did not deserve to die bloody like this.

The man’s hand flailed upwards, searching for Brooks’s.  The Captain gave it to him, and the man hung to him desperately.

“Don’t try to talk,” Brooks said.  “We have medical teams on their way.”

The man shook his head, spitting more blood.

This amount – it had to be a splitter round.  Smart bullets used only in the wild territories by megafauna hunters, that shattered in ways designed to cause the most damage to the most important organs.

“Rem,” the man got out.  It was barely audible over his choking.

He was fading rapidly.  Even if they got the medical team here, there was no surviving this kind of wound without the most intensive of care literally on hand – and even then, it was unlikely.

The man’s grip went slack, and his eyes rolled back in his head.

“We’ve caught the culprit sir,” a security officer said, panting as he came up.  “It was a drone – already blanked itself.  We’ve got it for scanning all the same.”

Brooks did not look up from Nec Tede until the life was fully gone from his eyes.

Lowering the man’s body to the floor, he stood up.  His uniform was covered in the man’s blood.

“Keep searching in case there was a controller,” Brooks said.  “And set up anti-drone defenses, just in case someone else is targeted.”

“Yes, sir.  For that reason, Commander Yaepanaya is asking that you come back aboard the Craton.”

Brooks nodded, and moved to follow the security officer.

Pirra saw that he was looking down at his hand.  It was clenched around something.

“What is it, sir?” she asked, standing up.  Blood had gotten on her wing drapes, but she could clean them later.

The Captain opened his hand, briefly.  In it, he was holding a data capsule.

“The Governor’s parting gift,” he said.

FINIS

< Ep 2 Part 39 | Ep 2 Epilogue >

“How are you feeling, Commander?”

Pirra smiled to Cenz as he moved the arms of his new suit.

“It fits well,” he said, his screen offering a smile.  It looked . . . forced.

“But with respects, sir, that’s not how you feel,” Pirra added.

He looked to her – at least the eyes on his screen did.  “I did ask you to just call me Cenz, Pirra.”

She could tell the being was joking with her, and she nodded.  “We’re on duty, but if you insist I drop rank – I will.  At least for now.”

The Coral accepted that and stood up slowly.  “It is odd.  When I took off the suit, I had forgotten just how confining it was.  I daresay I . . . enjoyed being out of it.  Until I was shot, at least.”

Pirra remained silent as Cenz continued to flex in his suit, testing its limits.  It was not a substantially different design, but she could not know just how it felt on him – he was, after all, a collection of many beings.

“I shall miss those thirteen that died,” he said.  His voice was softer, but his screen apparently did not know how to interpret his sadness, flickering from neutrality to a frown and back.

“I apologize, Cenz, that I let that happen.  You could have gotten away, but you went back to help me.”

“You did no less for me.  I do not blame you, Pirra, and you should not blame yourself.  I am just sad that . . .”  His screen looked to her.  “Each and every one that makes up me is unique.  Like every member of this crew.  In a sense, I am my own ship – and I suffered losses recently.”

“Will their absence cause you any difficulties?” she asked.

“Like will it lower my intelligence?  No.  In fact, a great number of my polyps remained on the ship – some of us rotate out on a daily basis.  Those that were not interested in seeing New Vitriol stayed behind.”  He flexed his hands – they moved as smoothly as those of a human.

“Friends said goodbye to friends in their own way.  But they did not know it was a final farewell.”  

It was a feeling Pirra had known as well.  In emergency response, sometimes people did not come home.

A heavy thunking from the hall outside the medbay of the Craton drew their attention.  This medical bay was just outside the main hangar – convenient for loading accidents or boarding wounded.

“They’re still taking the cloning tubes on?” Cenz asked.

“Nearly done.  We’ve taken on every one that is in a condition to be moved,” Pirra explained.

Cenz nodded.  “When they searched the room, did they find your singing stone?”

Pirra was surprised he remembered.  His declarations near the end, lamenting that she had thrown it, she had taken them to be something like the delirious ramblings of a dying man.

“Ah . . . I gave it a search, but I didn’t find it,” she admitted.

“Really?”  Cenz shook his head.  “Where could it have gone?”

“There were signs that the room was cleaned – the bodies of the dead guards were gone by the time we got to the room, and a lot of the data systems were destroyed.  Presumably to keep us from learning anything important.”  She looked away, unsure what else to say.

“And evidently that meant destroying your singing stone . . .  I am sorry, Pirra.”

“It’s not your fault and you shouldn’t blame yourself,” she replied.

“Ahhh,” Cenz said, a soft smile on his screen.  “I’m getting my own medicine.  I regret saying it already.”

A silence fell between them, and Cenz was watching her thoughtfully.  “You seem as if something is weighing upon you, Pirra.”

“I suppose I am, but it’s small in comparison to your loss, Cenz.”

“Perhaps.  But that does not make it invalid.  What is on your mind?”

“Humans are not very spiritual, are they?” she asked.

“No,” Cenz agreed, looking surprised by the comment.  “They do not tend to be nowadays.  I understand religion still exists among some, but it accounts for only about 2% of the population of the Sol system and most major colonies.  Sadly, the data is unknown for their minor colonies.”

Pirra began to pace slowly.  “They had their religious wars, persecutions – I’ve read about them, vaguely.”  She looked up to Cenz.

“From my understanding, it’s a very common phase for many species,” Cenz said.  “But I am glad that mine did not have such things – we rarely had conflict.  It did occur, of course, but we never had anything even approaching what might be called a war.  At least . . .” he trailed off.  “Until we became spacefaring.”

Pirra nodded.  That wasn’t ancient history; the Sapient Union had been involved in a few wars, and being old members of it, Cenz’s people had naturally been drawn in as well.

But those wars had not been by their instigation, and peace had come – and held.  At least so far.

“Have your people ever had any religion?” she asked.

“Yes and no.  We never had the concept of gods, or an afterlife.  But we had concepts that might be considered spiritual.”  Cenz’s voice had a softness to it.

Pirra wondered if she was prying; though friendly to a fault, Cenz was rarely open about his people, and much about them remained somewhat mysterious.

“For example, a very common thought is that there is a spiritual connection between all of our people, as like individual polyps in each group,” the Coral continued.  “Since we have met other species, some have even gone so far as to suggest that all life is connected, even if we do not realize it.  From my kind to Humans to Dessei.”  His screen smiled, but it was sad.  “Even as far as to Aeena and Latarren, who taught my people what war was.”

Twenty of their colonies annihilated by the Aeena, she knew.  Unarmed, harmless, in systems that most beings found little value in.  The death toll had been total.

Against the Latarren there had been no similar mass loss of life for his people – except among those who had volunteered to serve and died in the line of duty.  It had been another bloody war, even if not as destructive as it had been against the Aeena.

It put her own concerns into a new light, and she felt guilt.  She had been regretting her loss, but it was only a stone.  It represented more, but at the end of the day . . . it was just an object.

“Your loss is very real, Pirra,” Cenz said.

She gasped and looked up.  Had she said something out loud?

Cenz’s face was smiling gently.  “Apologies for startling you . . .  humans may not read you very well, but I’m better at it than they.  Were you feeling guilty?”

“I was,” she admitted.  “I didn’t know I was so obvious.”  Maybe she exaggerated her mannerisms for Alexander’s benefit and didn’t realize it . . .

“You are Haupa?” he asked.

“Yes,” she admitted.  “I was born long after our way of life was gone.  But I always felt a connection to it.  Even after nine hundred years, they couldn’t destroy everything about us.”

Her hand closed into a fist.  It had “only” been classic imperialism.  Her people, conquered, their way of life exterminated, their language and culture driven to extinction.  No one left even spoke their language, not natively.  It had been dead for over 200 years.

Even most of the artifacts gone or destroyed.  Everything had just moved on, but the stone had been passed down to her.  And now she’d lost even that.

“Pirra, do you-” Cenz began, reaching for her.

She cut him off.  “Were the people of this system truly oppressed in the Sol system?” she asked.

Cenz pulled his hand back, his face surprised.  “Ah . . .  Well, I am not an expert on their history, Pirra.  But I have looked at their public history and compared it to those from Earth.”

He shook his head.  “Their grievances were not reasonable.  They wanted the law to bend to the decrees of their prophet, and when that did not happen they considered it to be oppression.  And their prophet is believed to have conceived of his plan to leave the Sol system due to crimes he had committed.  By the time they caught up with him – he and his followers had gone.”

Cenz shook his head.  “Sometimes there is oppression, and sometimes beings believe they are being oppressed simply because they don’t get their way.”

Pirra closed her hands into fists.  “When people don’t know the real thing, they think an inconvenience is the worst.”

“It’s true.  To be honest, I know many of my own kind who think a scratch on a Polyp is the end of the-“

The sound of panicked shouting came from outside the door.  Both of them snapped their gaze up.  Footsteps thundered by, as many people moved in a panic.

“Stay here,” Pirra said.  “I’ll see what’s up.”

“Unfortunately I must.  I’m not fully stable,” Cenz replied.

Pirra rushed out into the hall.  She saw crew members and civilians running, but when she caught sight of a security officer, she began to follow him.

“What’s happening?” she asked quickly.

“Shots in the colony,” the man replied.  “Someone is reportedly hit – we’re securing the boarding dock.”

Nodding, Pirra ran on.  Coming to the great airlock doors that opened into New Vitriol, she saw a crowd gathered.  Many of the people out there were in SU uniforms, and she felt a queasy sensation in her stomach.

She sprinted as fast as she could in the artificial gravity of the Craton, then leaped into the zero-g of the colony.  “I’m a Responder!” she shouted.  “Let me through!”

< Ep 2 Part 38 | Ep 2 Part 40 >

“Madam, I would like to offer you my apologies,” Kell said.

The old woman glared at him.  Her lips were curled into a sneer.

“I don’t want them,” she spat.

“Very well.”  Kell turned to walk away.

“Wait, Kell.”  Urle looked to the woman.  “Madam, I know you are not happy to see us, but I hope that soon you’ll feel differently.  My friend here, despite his mannerisms, is truly sorry, but he is from a very isolated society that has very different norms than ours.  I assure you that he means what he says – his people do not lie.”

The old woman’s face might have changed slightly, but she finally nodded.  “If it’ll get you to stop darkening my doorstep, then fine.”

Kell had been watching Urle curiously as he spoke, but he again now looked to the old woman.

“What I said to you before was hurtful and shocking to you.  That was not my intention, and I apologize for that.  My people often do not consider other beings, and it is something I would like to change.”

The woman stared at him for a long moment.  “You said my fluffs were fake, too.  You should apologize for that.”

Kell’s eyebrow arched and he smiled slightly.  For once, Urle thought, it was not a disturbing smile, but a slightly wry one.

“To be fair about that, madam, you were trying to trick my friend here.  But I do not think you even need to pretend that they are living – they are, on their own merits, quite appealing.”

Kell reached into the open top of the box and picked up one of the fluffs, a green one.  It writhed until he put it on his hand where it calmed.  He began to stroke it and it let out a soft coo.

“They behave much like a real animal would to a human,” Kell said.

Urle almost snorted a breath half out of amusement and horror.

“Like a human?” the old woman asked.

“Strange culture,” Urle said to her, hoping to kill the subject.  “But I agree with the Ambassador.  I could tell they weren’t alive but that also means that my daughters don’t have to watch them grow old and die.  As important a lesson as that is, I think we could all stand to have a little less such pain in life, don’t you think?”

Something seemed to crack in the old woman’s face.  Her suspicious, angry expression evaporated, and she suddenly was just a woman – aged, tired.  But hopeful.

“Yes,” she agreed.

Kell put his trade card down onto the old woman’s reader.  It pinged, and he turned to leave with his green fluff.

Urle bought two, then set down a white card in front of the woman before gesturing to the large medical tent that the staff of the Craton had set up.

“If you go over there with this card, Dr. Y will have a look at you.  He is one of the top experts in the galaxy on treating human medical conditions, and I trust him more than any other doctor I have ever known.  I am certain that he can help you.”

The old woman said nothing, and Urle moved away, pushing hard to catch up with Kell, who was still holding his fluff.

“You didn’t have to buy one,” he noted.  “But it was kind of you.”

“It is a novelty,” Kell replied.  “It is only an object, but it creates a facsimile of being happy when I touch it.”

“Actually, it’s true.  She did a really good job making and programming these with what she had to work with.”

Kell did not reply as he and Urle went back into the ship.

< Ep 2 Part 37 | Ep 2 Part 39 >

The Craton arrived thirty-six hours after my initial contact with them.  Commander Yaepanaya was relieved that the situation was under control, but expressed strong concern about the deaths that nearly occurred.  I have a feeling that next time we leave the Craton, she will insist on being among my team.

Chief Science Officer Cenz seems to be recovering well, thanks to Lieutenant Pirra’s bravery and Ambassador Kell’s intervention.  He will take some time to recover fully, but all of his number seem to have survived, aside from those killed in the initial shot that pierced his water suit.

Our Chief of Engineering, Cutter, and his crew of nearly a thousand Beetle-Slugs are now pouring over this station.  The number of improvements he says he can make to its safety and efficiency are uncountable, even with just the resources in the colony itself.  A great number of small improvements can have a vast positive effect when added together.

There has been some hostility from the populace, but it has begun quickly to fade as we have begun providing medical clinics to the sick and food for the hungry.  Our long-term results will hopefully cement this positive feeling in the minds of the colonists of New Vitriol.

Governor Tede has resigned his position.  Under our observation, a provisional government made up of section chiefs and business owners has come together to fill the void.  We will watch them carefully to make sure their class interests do not come to dominate and harm the rest of the population.  Within a few years we should be able to help them move into a higher form of economy.

Over seven hundred people have expressed an interest in leaving the colony, though we have already begun to receive reports from the Colonial Assistance Council that they have over twenty thousand of their helpers ready to come and get the place back on its feet.  When trouble appears, look for the helpers, they say.

Without Hoc Rem, any organized resistance to our presence has failed to materialize.  It seems that many of his guards were mercenaries he hired, and without prospect of being paid for the effort, they had no desire to resist.

The man himself has disappeared, as Nec Tede predicted.  We can find no witnesses that even admit to seeing him on that last day, and as the former governor said, there are many places he could have left from.  A signal was sent from the station that day that we believe might have been him communicating with his unknown patrons – but the trail is cold.  With just an environment suit and a small craft he could have already met with a larger vessel and escaped the system.

Now all that remains is to do our best for the cloned human beings that the former Governor had been growing.  Only forty percent will likely survive, and with great health problems.  We will do our best for them.

And besides them, we have a new member of our crew to acclimate.  I predict this may be a difficult adjustment for Apollonia Nor.

< Ep 2 Part 36 | Ep 2 Part 38 >

“The detonator broke,” Urle said.  “I’ve never seen it happen before – this is a high-quality piece of tech.  But it split in half, and just couldn’t set off the detonation signal.  I could have blasted it with a plasma torch and it wouldn’t have cared.”

Brooks studied the components from the disassembled bomb that Urle had set out on the table.  The timer, the sensors, the decomposing explosive, now rendered inert in water.

“Can we trace it to the Governor?” he asked.

“You think he planted it?” Urle asked.

“Possibly.  Can we trace it to him?”

Urle took a deep breath.  “Honestly, Captain – I can’t see them pulling this off.  Everything about this was done expertly.  From the hack that got them close to the bomb itself.  This is . . . this is like black ops level stuff.”

He shook his head.  “We should never have gotten this lucky.”

“We didn’t know who our enemy was,” Brooks said.

“We still don’t,” Logus commented, frowning.

“But we know that they’re professionals, not just angry colonials,” Urle replied.  “It’s a good point, Captain.  I apologize for letting it happen on my watch.”

“Not necessary,” Brooks replied.  He gave his Executive Commander a smile.  “We wouldn’t have even known about it if not for you.”

“I promise you they won’t be able to pull the same trick twice,” Urle said.

“Good.  Now get me any forensics you can off this and report as soon as you know.”

“Yes, sir.”  Brooks stood and left the room.  Logus followed him.

“What now, Captain?” the psychiatrist asked.

Brooks looked back at the man.  “It’s time to confront the Governor.”

< Ep 2 Part 34 | Ep 2 Part 36 >

“I’m sorry to have to pull you along on this, Pirra,” Urle said over the comm.  “But you’re the only one on the ship besides the Captain that’s rated for an emergency vacuum excursion.”

“No need to apologize, sir,” Pirra replied.

Moth-Owls didn’t get bags under their eyes, but she managed to look exhausted all the same.  But she’d taken a stim shot and he knew she was ready for what came.

They floated quickly and purposefully around the Hurricane.  She was only 70 meters in length, but she felt much bigger right now.

His sensors told him he was at the location the sensor logs had noted.

If they had attached a device, it had to be around there . . .

He saw it.  It was set into a sunken line on the ship’s hull, where it wouldn’t be easily noticed.

It was made of a dull gray metal that looked innocuous enough.  But the case was big enough to hold a tracker unit or hide a sizable explosive charge.

“Here,” he said, extending his sensors cautiously.  He couldn’t be sure how smart the device was, and if it would react to being scanned.  He stuck to passive sensors.

Even so, a flood of information filled his vision.  Ambient particles would have diffused to undetectable levels, and he focused his observations on the hull around the area.

He found residue there.  Just a small amount, but it was conclusive.  High-explosives.

But his sensors didn’t detect a complex computer in it, there weren’t enough electromagnetic emissions.  It wasn’t smart – the opposite, it was as dumb as could be.  Open-bottomed, not sealed, and the explosive had been adhered to the hull.

Utmost secrecy, he thought.  The dumber it was, the less evidence there would be, both prior to planting and after detonation.

“Traces of a high-explosive,” Pirra said.  “An unstable compound.  It will go off once it decays enough.”

“I think so,” Urle said.  “So we’re on a time table.  Can’t be sure how soon, but it won’t be more than a few hours.”

“Unstable compounds are also used to help hide evidence,” she noted.  “It might decay before an investigation could find it.  Point being – there might be other things that can set it off.  We can’t assume it’s just relying on decay.”

“Understood,” he said.  “Captain, I recommend evacuating the ship.  Chance of a decompression are significant – we have an explosive here.”

“In-progress,” Brooks replied.  “But we can’t risk moving Cenz yet.”

“Do you think you can remove it?” Pirra asked.

“I’m not sure,” he replied.  “Do you have any expertise in this?”

“I have training in bomb removal or disposal, but on the stims I’ve got shaking hands.”  She made a sound of exasperation.  “Who uses dumb bombs anymore?  This is like something from an old war.”

“Yeah,” Urle said.  “And I think meant to look like the ship just suffered an accident when it went off.”

Pirra studied it for a moment, looking along the ship.  “I agree.  But it’s not important right now.  Do you want me to take over?”

“No,” Urle said.  He put his hands over the case lightly.  “I’m better equipped.”

His suit did not cover his hands – they were both mechanical.  They normally had a tactile sense better than normal flesh could ever manage, but he’d had to turn that off due to the numbing cold of space.

The tips of his fingers opened, and tiny extendible limbs came out, moving around the edges.

“It was attached expertly.  Fused to the hull – we’ll have to cut it away,” he noted.

“If they were skilled enough to pull that other trick, then I think they’ll have anti-tamper sensors inside the case,” Pirra noted.  “Try cutting off a corner, even in elite circles they don’t often extend the sensors that far.”

“Often,” Urle said.  A bead of sweat broke free from his face as he spoke, the perfect sphere floating loose in his mask.  He ignored it.

Any wrong move and they’d both die.  His children would probably die.  The Captain, Pirra’s husband – everyone with them.  Cenz, if he’d had a chance of recovery, it would be stolen from him.

He fought down his nerves.

He knew he could do this.

Drilling into the case carefully, he made a tiny hole and inserted a sensor.  It was so miniscule as to be nearly invisible to a standard human eye.

“Don’t let it touch anything,” Pirra said.  “Can’t be sure which parts are sensors.”

“Understood.”

He could see a grainy image through his tiny sensor.  Scanning the interior with the barest of touches, he could make out a charge – the unstable explosive.  There was enough to blast a substantial hole in the ship, shaped in a way that would make it look enough like a standard outblowing that it could go unnoticed.  Certainly the Governor’s people would never be able to tell.

Hell, they probably planted it.

That idea bothered him on many levels, but he didn’t stop to dwell on them now.  There was a component he couldn’t identify yet.

A timer!

Damn it.  They hadn’t left anything to chance; they likely expected a very specific time frame here, and decay bombs could vary by nearly a hundred minutes each way.  He carefully extended in another probe, but it was all he could fit through the drill hole.  The sides seemed rigged, and it was a miracle he hadn’t set it off already . . .

His new probe connected to the timer carefully, picking up its ambient charges.  In moments it pieced together a decent view of what was occurring inside.

“We have less than one minute,” he said.  His breathing sounded overwhelming in his ears.

Pirra’s voice stayed calm, collected, and he found himself marvelling at her.

“Captain, you get that?  Expedite the evacuation.”

“Understood,” Brooks replied.

All Urle could hear was his own heart pounding in his ears.  “I can connect to it,” he said.  “Going to attempt to reset its timer.  Buy us some time.”

“No way to just sever the connection?” Pirra asked.  “Turn it off?”

“It’s got anti-tamper sensors, basic passive things, all over the place.  I’m going to need more time to deactivate them.”

The words came out but his mind was focused on this.

Forty-five seconds.

He connected to the timer, and found that his number was correct.  But still ticking down.

There was no intelligence in this, but any extra charge he put in to give a command might set it off.  He couldn’t go that route.

Thirty seconds.

If he disabled the sensor, he could do whatever he wanted with the rest of it.  He just had to get the one.  He even knew the kind; he’d used them before.  Top of the line, incredibly resilient against tamper.  Simple as all hell.  Tough to trick but not impossible.

Fifteen seconds.

He had to go for it.  He needed a different tool, but there was no chance he’d get it in position in time.  Using his second probe, he slipped it up against the sensor gently.  Had to be careful . . .

Ten seconds.

“Run,” he grit out to Pirra.

“No time,” she replied.

He attempted to send in a jolt to overload it – just enough to disable it and stop its own sensing.  There was a sweet spot in there that he knew from experience would burn it out.

It tripped.  He’d sent in too much.

He let out a gasp and jerked back.

The bomb didn’t explode.

He opened his eyes to see that he was still looking at the ship itself, and the ugly brick of a bomb that had nearly killed them all.

“Sir?  Sir?” Pirra said.  “You shut it off!”

“No,” Urle answered her, a bitter taste in his mouth.  “I didn’t.  We just got lucky.”

< Ep 2 Part 33 | Ep 2 Part 35 >

The only sounds in the medlab were the whirring of water in the medical tank.

Cenz was in there still, unmoving.  At least his limbs – at least a few of his polyps were now moving in a way that seemed healthy.  Their color had even started to return.

But he still didn’t know if that meant much.  Cenz’s species required a certain number of polyps to be alive and aware to actually achieve a complex level of consciousness.  Alone, each polyp was only a fraction of a being.  If most of the polyps didn’t survive, then, would that be the end of their Science Officer?

He had no idea, and he hated that.

Their medical records were dense and complex; it was so rare that a human ever needed to deal with them in this way that there just hadn’t been a lot made available and digestible.

He would just have to rely on the medical computer.  It was not Dr. Y, though, and for a moment he wished the laws of the Sapient Union were more lenient on artificial intelligences like their doctor.  He’d give half his augments just for the doctor’s consultation right now.

But that wasn’t an option, and he would just have to work with what he had on hand.

He was doing his best, but the familiar old shame of inadequacy haunted him.  He should be better than this.  He’d pushed himself all his life to be the best he could be.

He’d sacrificed half of his biological body to better himself.  And yet here he sat again, feeling it hadn’t been enough.

Quadruple-checking Cenz and then all the medical systems, he knew he was still on-duty as shift officer.  Absently, he began to look over the sensor logs, hoping for the vast quantities of data to scrub his mind of his own feelings.

The computers did this automatically, sorting what seemed relevant from what was extraneous.  Who needed to know about vacuum purity logs?

He did, of course.  He much preferred to take in the raw data logs and let his own personal filters sort them.  And he set a different bar for relevancy; many things the computer did not consider important to share he’d look at.

Better to be sure.  He had the processing power for it.

He caught an odd fluctuation.  The vacuum outside the ship had registered spikes of gas.  That typically meant an airlock leaking, but this was on the outer side of the vessel, away from the airlock.

Focusing on that, Urle saw that the spikes of gas density, when traced back along a path, occurred in a line, along the side of the hull.  But they stopped just around halfway down her length.  After that just short little bursts . . . before heading back.

That would only match a person or drone operating a thruster system.  But they were in private docking, and the system was set to warn him of any being approaching the ship like that.

Quickly he flipped through the logs, searching for any relevant information.

Then he jumped out of his chair.

“Captain!” he said over an open channel.  “Someone’s put something on our hull.”

Brooks came back a moment later.  “Repeat?  Are we under attack?”

“Don’t know, Captain.  Someone got into our system somehow.  They used a flaw in our hardware to file a standard hard-vac inspection ticket, but got it marked as unimportant so our system didn’t inform us.  They stopped at our midline, and when they left I believe they were lighter – like they left something behind.”

Brooks came back.  “Can you send a drone?”

“If they were this good, I think they’d be ready for that.  I want to check it personally.”

Brooks considered.  “Do it,” he said.  “Take someone else rated for this kind of work with you.”

< Ep 2 Part 32 | Ep 2 Part 34 >