Vinaed

Reaching out with a soapy hand, she feels around for the datapad she knows is on the floor just on the other side of the window sill. Once her fingers graze its surface, she snatches it up and pulls it outside with her, then props it precariously against the far edge of the window frame. She wipes her hand on her pants quickly and then touches the screen to activate it.

Glare from the sun makes it impossible to see who the caller is. She squints. “Grayson here,” she greets the featureless dark blob staring back at her.

“Grayson,” the person – who turns out to be the Ssujak scientist Lekket – says in her pleasant, if tense, synthesized voice, “we have information about the Oban transponder. Do you have a moment?”

Grayson drops her washcloth into the dirty pale of water sitting beside her. “Of course.”

Lekket looks off to the right, momentarily distracted by something, and then faces the screen again. “We finally figured out the code,” she starts, tapping two fingers to her breast briefly – a gesture Grayson has seen before but doesn’t entirely understand the significance of, “and it is a basic thing. The device sends coordinates to a central control unit and receives an acknowledgement in return. It does this at an interval; between messages, it leaves a channel open.”

Grayson shrugs a shoulder. “For what?” She asks, raising a hand to shield her eyes from the sun. In the shade, Lekket’s features become easier to distinguish. Her close-fitting environmental suit, of a red so deep as to be almost black, gleams in the clear light of Vinaed-2’s lab; the ensemble gives her the sleek, biomechanical appearance that is the hallmark of her species’ aesthetic taste.

“A command,” Lekket replies, shifting uncomfortably, “and that is the true reason for my call.” Her image wobbles about for a second as she moves over to a desk and perches herself atop it. Something near her falls to the ground with a clatter; she ignores it. “Grayson, we have reason to believe the device you recovered is a wormhole generator.”

“You’re sure?”

Lekket lifts her chin. “Yes,” she replies steadily and Grayson nods once. She leans in closer to the screen. “In addition, we know this device is not unique,” she warns. “We were able to track the signal back to the central control unit. There are four others like this one – all on or near colony worlds.”

Grayson stares past the datapad, her eyes focused on the window sill’s peeling white paint and her mind elsewhere entirely. “Where is the control unit?” She asks. A distant insect’s brittle song is carried on the wind, rising above the other ambient sounds.

“In the nebula – near the original Oban wormhole.”

“Did we jam the device?” Grayson asks, chest tightening.

“No.”

Grayson returns her attention to Lekket at once. She reaches out and grabs the datapad, bringing it close. “Why?” She asks, trying to be delicate so as to not put Lekket on the defensive, but strongly suspecting what the answer will be. Lekket, Raleigh, and Chief Kardis are all smart people – far smarter than Grayson. There is no way they haven’t already assessed the danger the transponder-generator represents. The possibility that the Oban might have Vinaed-2’s coordinates is a terrifying prospect, but that they retain the ability to trigger the device – whether they have Vinaed-2’s coordinates or not – is much more disturbing. Should they choose to activate the device, the station, the neighboring planet, and anything in its general vicinity would be instantly obliterated in the birth of the resulting wormhole…

Lekket’s tone becomes apologetic. “We did not because we tried and could not. There is…unfortunately very little to interact with.” She taps her chest again with two fingers. “When we figured out what it was saying, we noted the coordinates it was transmitting – it was sending Antera’s position. This surprised us, as we were expecting it to have updated to our own. Today, still, it communicates Antera’s position.” Grayson stares at her blankly. To address this, Lekket chooses to add an addendum. “We are either lucky, and this particular device was damaged back at my colony, or we are less lucky, and the coordinates were simply locked in.”

At this, Grayson makes a face. “But either way we have to assume it can still be triggered.” She concludes grimly. “It’s just a matter of how long we have before that happens.”

“Yes.”

“Can it be destroyed or otherwise neutralized?”

Lekket looks to the right again. “Probably…” she muses and then turns the screen around to show Grayson what she’s looking at. Visible through the window of the office Lekket is presently in, Ensign Raleigh and Chief Kardis crowd over a small cluster of computers towards the back of the lab; in the foreground, under a host of overlooking monitoring equipment, a spherical object the size of an orange sits passively within a fortified container. Raleigh turns to look at it suddenly, an angry frown on his face, and then notices the screen of Lekket’s datapad pointed in his direction. Caught off-guard, he gives Grayson an awkward thumbs up and then quickly turns back around.

“….but we must continue discussing how best to do that.” Lekket finishes, re-appearing onscreen. “Those two are working on that right now. Though,” she comments, “the device seems quite stable. We could bring it to dead space—”

“That won’t help us with the other four…” Grayson cuts her off, thinking. She touches the screen and pulls up a list of contacts. “At the very least, we can’t leave those things out there – we have no idea when or how they’ll wind up playing those cards, and I’m not comfortable watching them set up.”

Lekket draws back. “You plan to fetch the other devices?” She asks, conflicted. She’s dropped the datapad down to her lap; a few segments of her spine-like tail, now visible onscreen, are coiled tightly around her upper thigh.

“Yes,” Grayson replies curtly. She raises an eyebrow at Lekket. “How long will it take you three to agree on how to destroy these things?”

“A few hours,” Lekket ventures, “I suspect…perhaps. But, there is no guarantee—”

“Now that you understand what the transponder is saying,” Grayson edges in, an eager gleam in her eye, “can you change it?”

Lekket remains silent for a few seconds, and then nods slowly. “Yes…” She says, enunciating cautiously. She turns to look in Raleigh and Kardis’ direction again. “I believe I can…”

Grayson smiles. “Good,” she says, “then I’ll speak with you again in a few hours.” Lekket faces her again, but Grayson’s eyes are already scanning the contact list floating just over Lekket’s shoulder on the screen; she selects a few of them. “Thanks for the call – I have a few of my own to make now.”

Lekket acknowledges this with a slight inclination of her head and promptly terminates the connection.