A note: The actual modification haven't been done to the ship's sensor yet, that's a plan of what it will be like if the modification went without problem...modification itself is a separate roll.
"So, we know that the spy is one of four people. If we do not stop the spy, one way or another ... I don't even want to know what the consequences would be...I hate bureaucracy." Nirur said after Captain described the current situation to his senior officers. The spy was securely onboard the Swiftwing, and was not going anywhere, or do anything. It's the wounded and ticked-off ego of someone high above that is acturally dangerous to Swiftwing: This time it's a direct order, from Chief of Staff himself, to root out the spy, and disregard anything else before that.
"Okay guys here is my plan."Batista started. "We are going to place a bug in each of the king's servants quarters, step two will be spreading around that we just recieved new orders from the Navy, stating that the crown isn't in Sigma 765, but in another nearby planet instead, and our orders are to proceed to said planet to pick up the crown and then pick up the rest of our crew from Sigma." He paused."As soon as we catch one of those four attempting to send an unauthorized message from the ship, we will bust him, then proceed to Sigma at full speed, because if they get to the princess we're all doomed anyway. Suggestions? This can probably be improved"
"Sir, I don't think we've said where we are going. If we announce that we're not going to Sigma 765, it would be suspicious." Nirur said as he thought about Batista's plan. "If you want my suggestion, I say you should claim that Naval Command has ordered us to abandon stealth and retrieve the crown faster, and that we'll have to bee-line for Ellon to get it. We could then send out a scanner pulse, if that modification is approved, and claim that the sensors have been damaged, and that we'll have to stop for five hours so the repairs may safely be completed. I could also fake an engine break-down."He took a breath. "Bugging just their rooms would be less likely to get them. I think I could get teams of my engineers to set-up a series of bugs throughout the ship, monitoring who is in the area of any bugs that mysteriously deactivate themselves."
"Sir, I understand what our orders are. However, there is no reason we cannot do two things at once. Would it not be wise to head towards the Wispy while we figure out who the traitor is?"Said Para, after a bit of thought.
"Ensign, it wouldn't be wise to disobey a direct order from the commander-in-chief of the fleet."Batista pointed out.
"Anyway...Listen, they already know the King is dead and probably have not had the opportunity to send out a message. Perhaps we should tell them that while on the trip they'll be allowed a private communication to home. We'd set up a communications link for them. Now, I doubt they'd risk making a video call, or even interactive video call to the Tyrilians. It'd more likely be a coded message. Maybe let video calls work, but have any other sorts of messages never work but also give every indication that they are functioning, but instead of actually sending any data, we store it. Then we'll know who sent it, because we'll know when the message was sent and who was using it at the time. We'd also have to very closely monitor the video calls for anything that looks like it could be a message. Off turns of phrase, subtle sign language, anything like that. The danger there is they will discover the King is dead, but I don't know how big a deal that would be for them to discover."
"That would put our shuttle team in even greater danger."Sxtan pointed out."Then they could just assassinate the Princess and it's all over. Clean and without any clues pointing toward them." That word have touched a nerve in Para, as he suddenly become tensed, and thrown a vexing stare at Sxtan.
......
Finally had enough of all this, Batista stood up and started to pace around the room."Gentlemen, we're not getting anywhere."
"Sir."Para cleared his throat."At lease we still have an ace in our hand---As long as this spy's onboard, we're in control."
"That's what I have tried to tell Navy Command. That's why this shouldn't be that urgent."Batista responded with a hint of anger.
"For them, it is."Nirur said, uncharacteristically glum.
------[Good amount of original material below (In Italic)...too good to miss, only the name of the character and some minor parts has been changed.]
The meeting stopped inconclusively, without a satisfactory plan in the end. Batista called an adjourn to make everyone cool off a little after more than one hour of fruitless discussion. Then he remembered his friend, King Lorin's will, which included a traditional Crilite burial. He haven't dealt with that in the past three days, and maybe doing something else will clear his mind up, and offer him a general idea who the spy would be. Then he called all four King's servant into his ready room.
Trust. If Batista held a value sacred, that was it. Without it, existance would never be more than a haphazard series of encounters filled with caution at best---and fear, at worst. A being deemed unworthy of trust by other, or unable to find fellows to rely upon completely, could never know true love, unshakeable friendship, or the warming shelter of security. In his own experience, through his early service to the King, his command in and after the War and his personal life, lives has been saved by trust, and loves lost by the lack of it.
In his eyes, the sin of betrayal is worst of all. To willingly, knowingly accept someone else's trust and turn against it is contemptible. Th was that feeling deep in his heart that allowed Batista to tolerate for the moment Navy Command's order to unmask the turncoat in King Lorin's small, ragtag band of servants.
Four servants, no longer young, their lives given in to employ of the King for thirty years or more. These four have volunteered to leave their homeworld with their exiled ruler, and in the hard years that followed they had come to feel less like servants and more like members of the family. They'd shared hope and frustration, love, and finally trust---until one of them betrayed it.
But who? And why? The second question nagged at Batista. Was it a loyal retainer driven to treason by some weakness in character---an offer of money, or safety---or simply a hollow despair of ever returning home? Or were they dealing with a professional spy, planted in the King's entourage as a matter of course many years before the forced exile?
As he sat at the ready room, facing the four Crilites, he wasn't sure which answer would make him angrier, and he tried to set such emotion aside until it could be unleashed at a definite target.
Eari, the King's personal manservant. A little round man with the eyes of a faithful dog---once vigilant, seeing to his master's needs even befor he would be asked, now dulled by grief. His doughy face was buried in his hands as his wife Mossay comforted him. They were a matched set---Mossay, the royal cook for more than thirty years, was as plump as her husband, and as devoted to him as he had been to the King.
Aldel, the sturdy stable master, his leathery face etched by years of outdoor work. He had been Cila's favorite, and Batista remembered how he would give the little girl rides on the small animals in his stable yard.
Lastly, Nil. the once-elegant chief of the household staff. His clothing was shabby now, with small threadbare spots that has been carefully stitched to get through the lean years on Olan---but he still bore himself with the straight-backed dignity he had displayed without fail in the long-gone days of grandeur.
An unlikely group from which to ferret an enemy agent. And Batista found himself ready to rule out the possibility that any one of them could have been a spy from the start, and he drifted back toward the fraility theory. He was glad that he had ordered Para to monitor the meeting from Security---he was a tactical officer, after all. And his trained eyes might catch that he would miss.
Batista cleared his throat."Before he passed away, King Lorin asked me to promise that he would have a proper traditional Crilite funeral. I made that promise, and I intend to keep it. But he never got the chance to talk about it before the end. I know you've all suffered a great loss with his passing, I share your grief---but right now, I need your help in fulfilling my promise. I need to know the funeral customs of Crilite religion." He said as he glanced furtively at each face, hoping to spot a telltale glimmer in the nervous batting of an eye or the downturned corner of a mouth. But if any such sign slipped out, he looked for it in vain.
"We...We must...We must get a m-m-memorial urn." Eari said, jowls shaking as he tried to control his quiet sobs.
"Is that a special urn?"Batista asked.
"Y-yes. It must be newly cut stone, quarried n-noth more than a day before death. it..." Eari began to weep again, and Nil reached out to touch the little man's shoulder. but Eari seemed not to notice. "Stone if symbolic of strength, Captain."He said."It must be cut and sanctified according to strict laws."
"I fear we shall not succeed." Aldel rumbled. "The King's ashes must be set out in the urn, to be sifted and taken by the gods within seven suns after the heart has stopped. Aren't we more than four days from home?"
"Eleven days..."Batista said. "Does the urn have to be cut fron Crilite rock?"
The servants looked at each other before Mossay answered. "Not as long as the laws are followed. But who would know Crilite laws away from home?"
"A Crilite."Said Nil.
"Do you know a planet where we could get a holy urn?"Batista asked.
"I know of some, but I don't know if they're close enough to your ship, Captain."
"Let's find out."Batista said as he queried the computer about every planets within four days range of Swiftwing's current location with known Crilite population, and listed them out on screen.
The servant read the list, and Nil pointed to one name.
"Ellon III. I lived there myself many years ago."
"But is there a mason there?"asked Mossay.
"I knew of one, a neighbor."
"But that was long ago."Aldel protested. "He could have moved on, or died."
"He had a son, who was learning from his father."
"We must try..."Eari said. "Otherwise, we condemn our King to wander forever, never being taken to the bosom of the gods."
"But what if this mason cannot be found?"said Aldel.
Batista raised a hand in silence to the cross discussion."The promise was mine---and the decision will be, too."
------
"We've got a situational update, gentlemen."Batista started as he walked within conference room, with Para following.
Ellon III was 5 days distant at factor 6, closer to Cril and farther from rendzvous with Wispy in orbit of Sigma 756. That would mean the Swiftwing will arrive later than it should be at rendzvous point if original plan's followed, which the shuttle team will follow, since they know nothing about what happened since their departure. This could put the Wispy in grave danger.
Nil has been at least telling part truth. He has indeed lived on Ellon III years ago, as a part of a Crilite diplomatic team to Ellon III according to record. And there was indeed a Crilite community on Ellon III as a result of frequent ore trade.
Perhaps Nil was only being the dutiful servant to the last, concerned solely with performing this final service for his dead master...but that also made him a chief suspect too, and he have a deadline to met. Batista thought bitterly, as he sat down.
EDIT1: Messed up Batista's identity again...
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Topic: Dramatic Space Adventure RTD! (Turn 20, Moved to The Agora) (Read 41206 times)