A/N: I introduce a number of minor characters here that are not canon. The majority of these will never be seen from again. They serve to set up an additional layer of threat to our heroes above and beyond that in COR. If the demand is there I may explore this area of the 'verse further as I follow Toombs's hunt for Riddick.
When the Universe tries to catch up…
System M-344/G was not exactly a place that any of them had heard of. It was an overlooked, ignored, triple star system that currently had no commercial value. Fact of the matter was the unusual dynamics of the outer stars, one blue orb balanced by a white and yellow pair opposite it, orbiting around the edge of a system of three planets made it a navigational hazard. It was backwards to everything that a solar system was supposed to be. The only saving grace was that the three stars seemed to exert a pull that was even against all the planets, eliminating tidal forces that they would have otherwise caused. Right now, the neutral net gravity was working against the tiny little rocky world that the ship orbiting, locking the entire system into a singularly odd straight line. The reality was that this was not a good time to be in this system nor anywhere near this planet at all. But the Newtownian Institute experts aboard this particular Alliance Shipping vessel really had little choice in the matter. Their sister company, New Olso Shipping, had lost a transport vessel, the Hunter-Gratzner, and it was up to them to figure out why.
What might be odd to those who had no knowledge of the Company was how so many different groups had come together to investigate this one crash. Unless one knew that the various names all belonged to a huge Corporation that handled everything from shipping to education… and from mining to the prisons often built once the world had been certified as no longer useful for anything else. Such might have been the fate of this world had the situation been different, 30 years ago. But for reasons unknown, or classified, it had not happened. The system had just slipped from view. Until one fateful day, 12 weeks ago. On that day a total of 31 people had died, here, in this system, on this planet… and in the following days more had died, too. Maybe all of them had. But as many as 11 had survived the crash….
But why had the crash happened at all? Nineteen weeks on route to Tangiers, from Conga… So how had the 'H-G', as it had been called by the rather affectionate mechanical crew back in the Conga system, ended up so far off course? That was the captain's problem, really. It didn't take much, a fraction of a fraction of a degree was all. And the H-G had been an old ship. The woman looked over the flight path again. Really it should have been put out of commission years ago. But the company did not decommission ships; they were shuffled down the ever-expanding list of new businesses until something happened. Something like this. Any number of things could have gone wrong. The distress signal by the ship's computer had alerted them to the crash within weeks of it happening. Had everything been on route the H-G would not even be in port yet. Hell, it would still be 10 weeks out. The captain put the readouts down and looked out at the odd system that swirled around them without a care. They were orbiting planet number two, currently darkened on both sides by planets one and three. The ship's orbit took them above the smaller planet blocking off the more distant sun. In the distance one of the possible causes for the H-G's crash was looping itself in a wide arc around the far blue orb. A rogue comet. "Lindsey? You got a scan of that?"
"Scan of what, sir?" the male science and sensor tech looked out at the star field for a moment before seeing the comet himself, "Oh, that? Yes, sir. Standard ice-ball in space. It could have done a job on an older ship like the H-G that had no shielding. Want me to radio down that they need to scan debris for holes?" The captain nodded, not that it mattered at the moment with their first scouting party being missing and all.
The official corporate investigator walked onto the bridge. "Got anything yet? Hear any word from the rangers that went down there?" He was a slender, somewhat twitchy, fellow. Not overly tall, nor handsome, but clearly someone with a strong stomach for disaster and a love of new puzzles. While he always looked for the truth of events, he was an efficient spin-doctor too, able to make even the worse situation sound like a wonderful success for the company. That talent had saved his neck more than once.
"No. We should have scanned the area more closely before sending them down, like I told you before. The scans of the crash site indicate abundant life in the area. The bombing spread created a dead zone… that lasted about an hour. By the time the rangers begin searching the area not only was it dark, but the native life was back in force." She hit a button on a display, "According to this, we will never hear back from those rangers, Mr. Griswald. They are all dead."
Griswald looked at the info splashed in front of him. "Alright, Captain Mercer. You made your point. It was a stupid loss of life. But you can place the blame directly on Carl Johastein. I was just following orders." He put his hands behind his back before turning to look at the disgruntled officer. There was a lengthy silence as the pair regarded each other. Finally he broke the tension, "Do we have anything, at all?" He sounded rather desperate.
"In spite the blunder… maybe. There's a rogue comet. Might have caused the ship to go down. The security cryolocker that William J. Johns had leased on Conga was found smashed. Hard to say if it was the impact or the convict inside. The chains and supports showed sighs of methodical movement. For some reason he was not asleep. Could be a malfunction in the equipment, but the Tech's report from the spaceport where it was installed states that it was 100 operational." Another crewmember walked over with additional files. "Also the lights had been removed from the crash ship. That alone indicates that more than one survivor was alive at the time the eclipse started. And there were 6 power cells missing from the engine." She paused to look at the data at hand. "Interesting. The water is draining from the shallow lowland lake we noted on arrival. There's a settlement not far from there that was overlooked on our initial scans."
"Alright, I want that checked out. And someone please get me some intel on the native life here? All the company records show this is a dead, lifeless world. Not a sign of flora, fauna, insect, or otherwise. So where the hell did these things come from?"
The captain looked at Griswald with surprise; "You have company records? Our database has nothing." Wouldn't be the first time that the company had sent them out to investigate as crash with only partial background data either… but to indicate that they completely skirted this system when they had done the initial surveys of the quadrant was irregular. Briefly the captain wondered why they'd do such a thing… Maybe the native lifeforms was the answer to that.
"It was a failed mining operation. Considered unimportant to this case." He tried to wave the woman's accusing look off. It didn't work. "All right, I'll get you the files. The corporation sent an advance team here looking for a rare mineral. They pulled the project after 7 years of careful searching. About 23 years ago the team was recalled. Well, at least that's what the records show. I haven't been able to track down anyone who has worked here."
"23 years ago, huh? Maybe they are still down there…" The captain walked from the investigator with a sigh. It would not surprise her really if they were. She'd stumbled into things the company tried to cover up before in this job. Occupational hazard that came with the territory. What saved her then, and would save her now, was that she knew how to keep her mouth shut. What her crew learned here they would forget in favor of whatever official version was presented. Griswald knew that. It was the only reason he preferred to continue to work with the caustic woman and her crew. The thoughts that the old mining team was still resting un-peacefully down on this supposedly desert world would never leave the bridge. "All right, let's look at this situation, shall we?" the captain looked at her science officers.
The small squad set to analyzing the data streaming in from the sensors. One thing caught Lindsey's eye. He watched for some time to make sure of what he was seeing before pointing it out, "Captain? Look at the movement patterns over on the blue sun side of the planet. See here? The areas that have no lifeform readings appear to be the ones that are momentarily exposed to sunlight as the blocking planet wobbles on its axis." He begin running the data into his orbital simulator. After a moment he showed her and Griswald how the lifeform movements echoed the tiny slivers of light that appeared on the planet's surface. "A recommendation? Send down spotlights and field generators, sir."
"Fantastic. Do it. I'll make a report to Johastein and let him know that there's been some progress made. And Captain Mercer… make sure to keep me in the loop, okay?" Griswald exited the bridge.
"Good work, guys. Now let's see if we can find out what the hell happened here." The captain moved off to get another squad of rangers suited up and ready to go. She walked through her ship looking at all the science types scuttling from one lab to another. 'Ants. They are like little, busy, ants… watch them…' she really had no idea what the individuals were working on. It could have been the same thing Lindsay noted, or spectral analysis of the stars, or the last transmission from the rangers… likely though it was all of the above and more. Mercer was not a science type herself. She just kept the ship running. Nor was she one of the military sorts. And yet, once again here she was face to face with a trained ranger, killer par none, who somehow managed to scare the shit out of her even though he was totally respectful. "We found something those monsters down there don't like. So suit up and get your squad in the bay."
"Yes, sir! Special ops, sir?"
"I'm asking you, right? You're special ops, right? Just get your ass in gear and move."
The fellow signaled over to his squad and they begin suiting up. "Captain, sir? Permission…"
"Of course," she waved his formality away.
"What shit happened with the last squad?"
"They got caught in the dark… So I'm sending you down with powerful spotlights and sealed generators. Set up and secure around the settlement. A second squad will revisit the crash site and do the same. Then your job will be to guard the techs gathering information at both locations. You will be in charge of both groups. We'll leave the lights down there when we are done… collecting them is not worth your lives."
"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir," he saluted her and turned to his own gear. Mercer walked out. She would get the techs specialized in forensics down on the surface once the place was secured. In the meantime she was going to do some digging and find out what Griswald knew about the passengers. She had a feeling that whoever was on this boat would explain why Johastein was involved to the point of intrusion in what should have been a quick little glance of a job. Hell, the comet took a swipe at the G-H and it did an emergency landing on planet number two... which then went into an eclipse and the survivors were eaten, much as her first squad of rangers had been eaten. Case closed, right? She reached the investigator's door and beeped it.
The man inside was looking over several streams of data. The light discovery explained why this world was listed as dead. In normal conditions the second planet was bathed in an endless day. Only once every 22 years did this odd gravitational event come into play. It looked to him like the planet would remain in the dark, partially at least, for anywhere from three to fourteen years, depending on the various ticks in the system. He was expecting Mercer; "Come in." The door opened. Griswald was looking over a copy of the flight path data. He raised an eyebrow. "Problem, Mercer?"
"Maybe. But you might be able to help me. Why is Johastein so invested in this crash? There was no company cargo. His name was not attached to any of the passengers that I could tell. The insurance value is the square root of nothing." She sat down, "Yet, he's breathing down your back. Why?" Griswald grunted at her. Sometimes his need for allies was greater than his fear of getting snapped. He fished out a yellow security card and slid it over to Mercer. She looked at him, "Deep security? What the hell is going on, Griswald?"
"Just look at the files again, Mercer. You'll see."
"I'd better do it here," she reached for his computer screen. He nodded at turned back to his own set of data in his palm pad. The captain slid in the security card and reopened the existing background files. The crew scrolled past. No difference there… no connections, except for the docking pilot's heavy debt to the company for her flight schooling. Only difference at this level was that the interest continued to mount before Mercer's eyes. 'Carolyn Fry… you poor girl, you'll never pay off that debt,' she sighed, 'even if you did survive.' She noted that the woman had not taken the rather expensive certification exam to move up into the next pay bracket either. It was likely a smart move; the increased pay would never offset the increased debt. Still, Johastein wouldn't pick a pimple on his ass over that. Nearly half the pilots coming out of flight school owed the company.
The passengers began to scroll up. Here the record had been amended slightly with margin notes that Griswald had seen fit to insert. 29 files of nothing… Cryolockers for those passengers were clearly destroyed in the crash. Comparing the tickets with the scans showed that all 29 lockers still contained bodies. Many cooked like potatoes in foil… But what of the other ten? The one open locker away from the ship indicated that a male had survived, maybe. The on the outside blood indicated that Riddick had gotten to the locker. Why that had been one of the first things Johastein had ordered them to look for was the puzzle. Likely the fellow inside, Marcus Smyth, had been his first victim… except there was no blood inside the locker. Smyth owned a business on Tangiers and did big game hunting as a hobby. He was well to do, and not connected with the company, choosing to sell locally made goods to a niche market. Only with investigation would they be able to tell if there had been a fight and who had won it.
John 'Zeke' Ezekiel was next on the list. His situation placed him as being one very strong possible survivor, along with his life-mate, Shannon 'Shazza' Montgomery who was the next down. The pair was registered bushwhackers, independent non-guild killers for hire. It was possible that they had been hired by Smyth to lead a hunting trip. The background of the pair was like night and day. He was dirt poor. She was filthy rich. He was an uneducated earth-native miner. She was a top-of-the-class, space-smart socialite. Their union had caused quite a stir a few years back when Shannon had been 21. Well more than a few years, really. It was closer to 16 years ago now, Mercer reminded herself. Who would have imagined that the pair would possibly end up here, dead? She prayed for a moment that she'd not be stuck with telling the older Mr. Montgomery that his only child had been killed and eaten… considering that they didn't have a body to take back with them. She looked up at Griswald; "Did you know that Shannon Montgomery was on this boat?" He nodded without looking back at her. "You think she might have made it?"
"Let's hope, okay? I don't look forward to telling her old man."
Mercer put her hand over her mouth before looking back at the records. The point of the matter was that having a trillionaire's daughter die on an unnamed planet might be enough for Johastein to get involved. That would require more research into outside connections to uncover, and frankly she was looking for something more obvious. Next on the list was the insurance claim source, Paris P. Ogilvie. His cargo had been the most expensive cargo on the trip. And yet… none of it was anything Johastein would be interested in. It was all antiques, art, and well-aged liquor. She sighed. Strike another one off the short list. "I'm not seeing what you think Johastein's interested in."
"Then you haven't read everything yet. Keep going. You will know when you reach it."
"Right." She looked back at the passenger manifest. Next up was Imam Abu Al-Walid. Cleric of the Chrislam church on New Mecca, member of the Helion government, and high-level connections with Tangiers 3. Listed in his charge were three Juveniles, Suleiman, Hassan, and Ali Abdullah, brothers who were being escorted on a hajj to New Mecca. He'd picked them up at Conga of all places, and was taking them to Tangiers for a brief visit according to their uncle's statement. The notes Griswald had scribed and attached indicated that the boys had been enrolled in schools in the New Meccan Quarter as Helion's educational system was second to none. Additionally, their uncle was making noise about canceling his company contracts and going with local manufacturing and labor for his desalinization plants that provided water to a number of company worlds. Such a move would cripple mining in the Tangiers sector. But that was not Johastein's area. And crippling mining in Tangiers would actually benefit Johastein's operations at the frontiers of the Company's reach…
Her list was getting mighty short. Okay there was the boy, Jack B. Badd. Not much to go on. No matches in the database for the name. No clues as to the child's point of origin. "Did you run a missing persons on this one? The kid might be a runaway, you know. He could have parents looking for him."
"Funny you should mention that. Johastein told me not to bother, because nothing was going to show up. Know what? I looked anyhow. Nothing matched. If the kid is a runaway, he's not from a regular family, but a company home. I think there's more to it, but have no fucking idea where to look. But that's not what Johastein is up in arms about. Look at who was in that rented Cryolocker…"
Last two names on the list… William J. Johns, ex- E-tack, military tracker, second stint in the Marine Military Police. She blinked at the file. Survived the Wailing Wars. Successful at 100 recapture of AWOL's from the front lines. Johns was good at what he did. She leaned back and popped her shoulder. Clean discharge. Signed on with the Merc Guild and qualified for a Marshal's tag. For the last number of years he'd been tracking the most clever and sneaky runners. High-risk jobs. And he did it well. 17 out of 18 captured and claimed. Only one missed. That one was the man he was taking to Tangiers Penal. Which led her to her final entry… and Johastein's name flew off the readout at her…
Richard B. Riddick… First she noted the outstanding criminal warrants for him. Five different planets, in three different systems, all held charges base in his last run from Butcher Bay and Ursa Luna Double Max. Two of those planets were in Conga. Another was Kova, for attacking a freighter. The final two were right under the Merc Guild's nose in the Lupus system, at Lupus 5 and an outlying outpost. There was a list a mile long of slams he'd escaped from, nearly every triple and double max out there. And a few were listed twice. The dates indicated that he'd been in and out over the last 10 years… more out than in. He was listed as a guard who'd snapped on the old records. A guard from Altair, to be exact. But the new security code opened up new data… Data that called into question that he'd ever been a guard at Altairs Penal, where he was listed for nearly 3 years as 'in residence'. Altair was known as a high security, deep storage, triple max. Inmates there were kept on Ice, or in cryo. Ninety-five percent of them were political or cyber criminals. The other five percent were psychos so bad that no one else would take them. And Riddick's real training listing neatly eliminated the cybercrime option. He was no computer hacker too dangerous for general prison population. And his escapes indicated that he was not crazy either. That left one option for the ex- ranger, Head of Security at Sigma 3 directly under Carl Johastein… info not in the normal records. She looked at Griswald. He gave her a look that said, 'found it, huh?' She cleared her throat, "So he's political?"
"Best not to ask, Mercer… Just remember, that could be us…" They both knew it was true. She slid the card out and handed it back. She'd seen enough to realize that she was skirting deep trouble. She stood up and looked at Griswald. "I'll make like you were never in here, Mercer. It's better that way. Unless you want the crew to think that we've started having sex or something in here." The captain had gotten two steps from the door when Griswald's sly comment was uttered.
"I'd rather fuck one of those predators down on M-344/G-2 in all actuality, Mr. Griswald." She heard him laugh behind her.
"Me too, Captain Mercer." He watched her soften her shoulders as she smiled to the door. "It's okay, I'm not going to hold it against you. But the crew does talk about your trips into my office."
She laughed this time. "Let them talk." The rangers passed her by as she headed back to the bridge. They wore business-like faces. It was their job to put their lives on the line. Each one knew it. The sweeper squad had been lost, now it was their turn to face death. Only this time they had light with them. They filed into the transport.
"You ready for this Hanson?" The leader asked his pilot.
"Yes, sir. Double load, two drops… Flare lights on parachutes then troops and equipment. Setting you up at the settlement, sir." He gave the pilot thumbs up and strapped himself into the drop system. "All loaded, controller. Permission to depart?"
"Permission granted. Flight deck clear in 30 seconds for take-off. Copy?"
"Roger." The pilot waited the required delay and glided the large craft out of the even larger ship. This was the second drop he'd made over this hellhole of a planet. The first troops weren't coming home he'd been told. They thought the bombing would scare the damn natives off, only it hadn't. This time they were trying light. Hanson hoped it worked. He liked these guys; most of them were friends. He'd be pissed at the company for wasting time here if they died too. He gathered his thoughts back together and focused on the task at hand. A couple of taps brought up the suggested flight path. He made an alteration and zeroed in on the drop point. "Ready for drop one… Flares will light on impact."
A voice from the back echoed "Drop one… Green for Drop." Flares tumbled out the back. About five percent hit things in the air hard enough to spring to light. It made the hammerheads visible and angered. However, it did drive them back. The same voice muttered, "Holy shit…"
Hanson had no time to waste. He looped the ship back over the drop zone now nicely lit in green. "Ready for drop two." He waited for the green on the next drop before opening the doors. The crates with the spotlights and generators gently landed as he turned for his final pass to this area. "Ready for drop three…"
"Get those light harnesses turned the fuck on, now!" the squad leader ordered. "We are dropping into this, people. That's our job. Grab your panties and get ready to go." The leader looked at his sub-commander who was going back to the crash site. "Kick some ass." Then back to Hanson, "We are green for drop three." He followed half his troops into the sky aware that the only things protecting him were the flares on the ground and the lights in his harness. By the time he landed his squad was opening crates and putting things together. Before the last flare died the first spotlight was up and running. He moved to make sure that they all got turned on. Then he called his people together. "Sweep and secure the settlement. Kill any locals you find, but don't touch anything. If a building has closed doors then secure it… using the light. We have spots for each structure. Again don't touch anything. Forensics are coming down to gather evidence." He got a chorus of 'yes sir' before being left to contact the ship. He reached Mercer. "Successful touchdown, captain. All lights are working. When forensics is sent down I strongly suggest using glowsuits."
"Noted. Passing on that the Crash team also had a successful touchdown. Contact me again when everything is secure. I want to get this over with."
"Yes, sir."
Mercer was back on the bridge. She looked at her crew. Hopefully soon they could be done with this and get back into settled space. All manner of odd things were rumored to exist out here on the fringes. Old settlements gone bad, ghostly haunted planets, religious zealots, twisted remnants of the first waves of humanity in space… the things that made up the stock of children's fairytales in this day and age. Only, she knew that they were real. She'd seen the evidence of it in the company records. Looking at this warped system she could believe that there were even more strange things out in this region of space than the company knew. Just as the rangers were sending back that the sites were secure, Griswald walked back in. "The light worked?" She nodded at him. He smiled in spite of the situation. "And the research teams?"
"Dropping in 30."
Finally they would get some real evidence. And from that perhaps come to some real answers. Griswald rocked on the balls of his feet. He'd been having a hard time with Johastein. The bastard (though he'd never call him that to his face) was demanding answers for things that they just didn't have the data to answer yet. He walked over and looked at the scans. "We find the black box yet?"
"No, Mr. Griswald. It seems that the homing beacon technology was not employed in this ship style. There's a long trench of debris behind the ship. If we have enough light the troops will manually search it." He scrunched up his face and nodded. All he could do was wait for the science types to make their jumps and begin collecting evidence. It was all any of them could do. They soon got confirmation of the drops. Mercer relaxed slightly. The observations began to flow in from both teams.
What they learned led Griswald to form the opinion that Riddick had broken out of his cryolocker and sabotaged the ship, officially at least. The evidence for the ship running into the comet's tail was there but did not explain how the H-G had gotten so far off course, heading the wrong way. But the rented Cryolocker gave plenty of evidence that the convict had gotten out. So his deduction was that although it might have been pilot error, Riddick's escape was more likely. The blood on Smyth's cryolocker had a faint trail washed into the soil leading away from it… and to a large area of blood splattered over the side, interior, and floor of the storage hold. The blood checked out as Riddick's. By the volume, Griswald concluded that the man had been shot. The bits of bone and brain matter located inside the storage area supported that he'd taken the blow in his head. Griswald closed the file on Riddick. The man was dead.
But Johastein was not ready to let them leave yet. They were placed under orders to gather everything, all biological samples they could find for further analysis. Inside the crash ship they collected medical kits that had been used suggesting seven survivors at that point. They also recovered a morphine laced glass tube, and spent O-2 tanks. The tanks also suggested that seven people had been at the crash site after the eclipse had begun. Somewhere between the crash and the settlement three survivors died.
Of the survivors evidence indicated that Smyth, Imam, Badd, and Fry made it off planet. The records in the settlement indicated that there was an emergency skiff, no longer planetside. Fry was the only pilot… by default she had to make it. There were blood drops that indicated that Smyth was alive up to the point that they started ripping out the optics. There were fingerprints uncovered at the settlement that seemed to be over the top of the dust disturbances made by the rain that were definitely Smyth's. The sand cat was parked in the center of the settlement. The optics was still on it, and the generators looked shorted out by high water. And someone had cleverly made it work off a power cell from the engines. But inside the cat's bed the researchers found a Chrislam book, one that had an inscription to "Abu Al-Walid". There was no blood, so Griswald assumed that Imam made in into the skiff. But… there was blood at the crash…blood and a body at the settlement… and blood traces on the sandcat that indicated all of his pilgrims had been lost. They also found a bottle of finely aged whisky with enough evidence to make a match on Paris. He had been on the sandcat… but had he made it into the skiff? Indications were that at some point the optic cable had been severed by a shotgun blast… Likely then he had not survived. Badd on the other hand was a guess. There was no blood… no nothing. But someone had been carried into the skiff; the ground showed clearly heavier footsteps, but not enough for the survivor to have been an adult. Of Shazza, Zeke, Paris, and Johns…. There were no signs… but for some blood sprays and splatters that matched the bushwhackers' genetic records at the crash site and nearby grave.
Once the settlement and crash and been searched the rangers carefully begin sweeping the area in between the two locations. It required painstakingly lighting the way. Water in the canyon indicated that likely the 'cat had gone along the top ridge. Following that route the rangers recovered Paris' lighter, glasses, and metallic whisky flask. Further along they found Johns' marshal's badge and shotgun. Spent shells indicated a rather wild pattern of shooting into the darkness in both locations. There was faint blood in the dirt… and evidence that the merc had tried to kill something and caused a landslide. Another abnormality that was collected was a handmade blade with Smyth's fingerprints on it.
Other items recovered from the settlement included 10 used goblets, a pile of hair, some of which was clearly pulled out… there was blood and skin attached to some of it. A dull razor with blood that keyed out as female… most puzzling… bloody underwear, sealed in plastic… And assorted swabs of blood from different places. One of the final things collected was some thick blue goo… Each of the items would be put through careful testing. After three days of searching the black box was recovered. There was little useful on it. All it could verify was that the computer thought they were still on course. That the ship had crashed. Twelve people had survived the initial impact. They begin the 10-week trip back to Ursa Luna. With the only detour being the pick up of a Kovan distress call that put them a week behind but filled with a load of Guild Mercs who had been under contract with the Chillingsworth family.
The biology analysis began right away. Griswald worked closely with them but the Captain and crew had no idea as to the exact nature of the work. The various swabs keyed out confirmation of the dead… At the settlement little Ali Abdullah had died. The other biological evidence was from a girl, an unknown. And that in itself made it a bit of a special interest. The blood on the sandcat was that of Suleiman Abdullah. Along the route, at the site of the landslide, the stains read for Johns. Where the lighter, flask, and glasses had been found, they also got faint readings for Paris. At the crash site grave the stains were for Zeke. Shazza's blood was found as a fine covering inside the grooves along the door of the cargo hold where the bits of bone and brain were recovered from Riddick… there was no indication if the two were related. Inside the cargo hold a smear was verified for Hassan Abdullah. In the main body of the crash bloodstains were connected with Owens and the captain of the H-G. So, who was the girl?
By the time they returned to the institute they were able to give Johastein the news he was waiting for. The project was handed off to experts, and the ship workers were glad to be rid of it. They were very glad. The two teams of experts set to work in the tiny specks of life delivered into their care. Technically, what they were doing was highly illegal. For the first project, based off the blue goo, identified as Hammerhead blood, the embryos were not an issue. It was a matter of scientific study. As the danger was too great to study the creatures from M-344/G-2 in their native habitat watching them in an artificial mockup was the only option. The biologists set to the task with gusto.
The second project though, would have raised moral problems if it had gotten out that they had a viable embryo from the genetic material from the unknown girl. It seemed to be of special interest to Johastein. He insisted that the project be completed. The attempts to match up the genetics with the database lead nowhere. There was not even a partial match in any form. The looked among the prison population, the registered civilian population, the guild database… nothing. Yet Johastein insisted that they place the fetus into an artificial womb and maintain the fast growth of the first trimester for as long as it was scientifically possible. There were problems with that, of course… premature aging for one. But they knew better than to argue. They put a secretive, round-the-clock, watch on the project. Johastein checked in on it, in person, once a month. He made it clear that he would take the child and care for it once it reached the correct stage. There was nothing really that they could do about it. After 8 months and 3 weeks Johastein had the now fully-grown, but not yet sexually mature, girl switched into cryosleep. Her body resisted the push from rapid growth to a sudden, full stop. In the week that it took for him to transfer her from Ursa Luna's Newtownian Institute to Lupus 5 she underwent additional changes. She was a young woman by the time she woke up…