Deep Space, The Dead Zone
Aboard ISS Belfast Windfall
Lieutenant Mack Hereford sat in the crew duty lounge, sipping at the dregs of his second cup of coffee. It wasn't the best stuff around, but it was certainly hot enough. Superphotonic engines generated enough power for the extras; ISS Belfast Windfall was Spartan in furnishing and equipment, but things like hot water, air conditioning and electricity were in near-limitless supply. So Mack sipped.
More to the point, he was going over some figures from the little drama surrounding yesterday's transmission receipt. This doesn't quite fit. Why did we even pick up that signal? We weren't doing an active sweep of the Nomad signal band...
"Commander Grix, were we doing an active sweep on Nomad yesterday?" Mack looked to the navigator, newly promoted commander Grx'bzzgah. The Veloxi insectoid was chomping down purple baddick stalks, regurgitating them into a stainless steel bowl and then slurping them back up again. He paused.
"Bzzrgx hmmmmmm gzz..." Mack smacked the comm box...and Alowala said we've been exclusively passive except for a few times when the nebula storms reached pitch levels--even then only on the Interstel Standard Band." Good money had gone into producing a decent Veloxi-Terranprime translation matrix. Hardware was another story.
"Thanks." How did we pick up that message? Passive scans are too weak to pick up degraded signal and nobody's boosting traffic on the Nomad Band these days. Unboosted long-distance signal quickly degraded into the ambient galactic noise if it wasn't boosted by a relay. Belfast Windfall's messages were routed through a maze of orbital and interstellar relays. Conditions often left messages stranded for hours or days while interference passed through.
Mack looked down at the star map again. He checked Belfast Windfall's position at the time of the transmission receipt the day before. The calculations took a few minutes. Nope. The ship's communications sensors couldn't pick up a transmission from that far. At least not without knowing beforehand to do an active scan on that specific channel. The Staff Constellation was just too far away. And I didn't even figure in the Nebula storms.
The lieutenant rubbed his eyes and stretched. The message had been a distress signal, so Vell Bralis Nova sent it out on all channels, Nomad included. That was standard; even the slim chance offered by an orphan comm band was better than cold vacuum. Still, Belfast Windfall had picked up the distress only on the Nomad band. But nobody's boosting Nomad and we're too far away for unboosted signals. He rechecked the math, knowing he was right the first time. There was no chance an unboosted signal from Vell Bralis Nova could go that far. Somebody's boosting Nomad. Mack checked his watch. Commander Alowala, the senior communications officer, was coming on shift in just under a half-hour. Maybe she should see this. Grx'bzzgah hacked up some more baddick stalks.
Thrynn Space
Downspin Edge of the Elowan Frontier
Two Standard Hours Earlier
The boson's whistle is an old tool from Earth's pre-photonic era, but all navies, even those that ply the space between the stars, have some manner of equivalent. Even the Imperial Thrynn Navy. One such sounded throughout the passageways of the frigate Kryssthoggr. Silently, as with all things in space, she slipped her moorings and moved away from the space dock. Kryssthoggr shuddered slightly as her artificial gravity took over where the space dock's receded. No official record was made of her arrival, replenishment or departure. She melted quickly into space.
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Next: "Teshbulr City"
A Smuggler's Proverb: Heaven is where your lawyer is Thrynn, the judge is Elowan and your body guard is Veloxi. Hell is where your lawyer is Veloxi, the judge is Thrynn and your body guard is Elowan.
"Hilsfar & Company: Because Interstel Captains Don't Drink Tea"