Chapter 29
Trilby tapped in the pass code. Instantly every feature imaginable appeared on the screen. He was resolved to save this family and if that meant losing a few members- temporarily- then so be it. His friends were resolved too, dangerously so, almost fanatical. He needed them whole if he wanted to get them off the ship. So there was no point in them fighting beyond any reason, sadly he knew they would. He was still sat in the hold of the shuttle. He had watched every move his friends made through Sparky's eye, now it showed the floor of the laboratory- no doubt it had also fallen off Sparky when he jumped into the computer. The screen flared with options, seemingly vying for attention. He imagined that were they sentient they would be calling 'pick me'. He shook his head with apprehension, it was unbecoming to let his mind wonder in the face of the situation. He heard Sparky gasp, shocked. He had noticed. Trilby had known there were no vents on the laboratory. That was a given. Regardless, he had played his friends and family. He chuckled silently. Heartless, he thought.
"Oh… I was hoping you wouldn't notice," Trilby opened the ships audio files. Lists of sound files appeared. Scrolling threw them, all of the files were professionally named, except for one. Just underneath,' garrison roll call' was a file named,' JUMBA'S BANE'. He rolled his eyes. Classic Hamsterviel, subtlety was not his strong point.
He began to apologize to his friends, it was necessary he told himself, regardless he felt that pinch of loss. Such cliché sentimentality. He would see them again, after all. Taking off his headset he turned up the sensitivity. He opened the sound file and played it very quietly. It would be loud on their end but nothing here. Nevertheless, he felt a twinge of anger deep within, wiping out the hesitation. He resisted, switching the sound off. They would be asleep now. But unharmed. That was the main thing. He turned off the cameras and motion sensors in the cargo bay. Opening the door, he leapt out. He knew where he needed to go and who he needed to see. The cargo bay was as obnoxiously bright as before. The guards were long gone, thawed out and chasing after his friends. The large empty room, the door was a disfigured mass. Better keep moving. Opening the vents he climbed into it. The map showed him the path he would have to take, the bridge awaited him. He walked through the vents. If he was careful he would not feature on any security footage. According to the feeds, he wasn't. He moved silently, though he could almost hear the tension, it was like it blew through the vents. He wasn't fazed by it, he thrived in tense situations. He was calm, he had his plan at the forefront of his mind. The prominent feature. He could take this ship down from the inside if he played his cards right. He reached his destination. He opened the security camera feeds for the room. The bridge, the main control centre. The bridge was supposed to be perfectly designed for maximum efficiency. It was a large cylindrical room- its dimensions were monumental to say the least. From wall to wall was roughly a kilometre, the same for the height of the room. Around the circumference cubicles were packed. They lined the circular floor, stacking cubicle upon cubicle in a tiered structure. From the floor to the ceiling, all around the edges of the room, were cubicles. Innumerable anti gravity lifts, hovered between these cubicles ferrying small, well read aliens. Only the best worked in this management area. They were responsible for their own section of the ship, they sent messages, orders, even the motivation. It was Each cubicle was responsible for controlling an area of the ship. They were also responsible for communicating with other areas of the ship. It was an essential practise. Each section of the ship had to work in harmony with every other part, otherwise there was no possible way this monster of a ship could function. In other words, without this room, the ship could not function and that was important. Naturally the security in this room was fittingly overdone. Large intimidating drones, packed with lasers and plasma rifles and all manner of weapon. These drones circled the room, scanning lights flicked through the cubicle windows, they sought to seek out and rectify any anomalies. Anomalies in this room included, more or less than two people in a cubicle, aside from the changeover times. Any slacking was not tolerated, a specific level of activity was essential. They were very thorough when it came to the management department of the ship, and why wouldn't they be? This part of the ship was what made it run, and it was the part that had to be shut down. Trilby noticed the place he needed to get to. The captain got his own cubicle in the centre of the room. It was a large and luxurious room. It contained screens and panels, like any other. Except there was no authorization codes. No limit to the control of the ship. He could do anything once he got in there. But he needed to get in there and unnoticed. The captains room automatically locks when there is an intruder. Hence it locked when they boarded the ship, hence Trilby's insistence to not be seen. It was open now though. The lights that surrounded the room were blue. Sign of being unlocked. Bathed in the hallowed light, the captain sat, the room was mostly see through with impenetrable 'hrictachian glass' an alloy that is virtually unbreakable, but very rare and valuable. Hence it is only used here. It keeps almost anything out, or anything in. Once he got in he would lock the doors. Then he could do anything he wanted and no one could stop him. The hard part was crossing the massive amount of open ground. He could fool the drones with his hacked system, he had in his hands. But the chances of one of the aliens seeing him was high. he shut off the camera feeds. Tentatively he unlocked the vent hatch. He peeked through, cautiously he was in the 'propulsion system cubicle #4' it shone in glowing alien letters on the inside and outside of the cubicle. Two small aliens sat speaking loudly into microphones in a bored monotone. The relayed messages and replied in management speak. Very pompous, very inefficient. But the federation couldn't resist its professional syntax. Screens dials, whirred and buzzed, spewing out statistics and long chains of incomprehensible numbers. It was like watching an airplane pilot and his co- pilot. Lots of complicated dials and switches, when in actual fact they do very little. They spoke in an alien language, that lingered at the back of Trilby's mind, but he seemed to translate the monotone conversation,
"What is the ineffectual, use of one's digestive tract, in the interest of life cycle number 2, in the confines of 1 2 30?" Trilby rolled his eyes, management speak for 'what did you have for lunch?'. He noticed he was on the thirty first tier of cubicles. He needed to be on the first tier, closest to the captains room. He closed the hatch.
A while later his map indicated he was on the first tier of cubicles. He allowed himself to catch his breath. 'Spike has to lose some weight' he thought. He chuckled in his head. Sparky would have appreciated that comment. He must be in a cell by now. Shame, he could really use someone like Sparky. His plans could be a lot more elaborate with him around. Regardless, his plan remained the same. He opened the vent closest to him. peeking through he read the sign. 'Engine control #1' This will require exquisite timing he thought. He needed to spike the two aliens, hack a drone use it to hide him, move through hundreds of metres of open space, convince Hamsterviel to open the captains door and get inside. All without getting recognized, flagged, inspected, or noticed in general. It would have to be done relatively fast.