Half a sector away, the Rimkha-V continued its slow burn as it left the orbit of Kannawit, folding in its receivers for the trip through warp as the data files were unpacked. Deep within the hull, a team of analysts worked day and night to work on the analysis, keeping track of some eighteen Planet Crafters across the whole of Izitial Prime.

Riley sat down at his station and opened up the data package for Convict GP-B971-L, looking over the numbers. "Hm. He's making good progress."

The woman next to him rolled her eyes. "Of course yours is. Your first assignment and you get one that survives the first two weeks. My guy's already dead."

"Another one? That's two already!"

"Planet Crafting is just a way of giving a death sentence without sentencing someone to death. You get used to it." She tapped across the screen and put in a request for a new monitoring assignment, then got up and stretched. "Welp, I'm going to the canteen. Need me to get you anything?"

"Yeah, a cruller would be nice. I'll pay you in a moment, the data's almost unpacked."

As she left, Riley went back to the details of his assignment. "Okay, Convict GP-B971-L. Let me see what you're up to..."

The data was unpacked, sorted, and put into a nice open display.

Iᴢɪᴛɪᴀʟ Pʀɪᴍᴇ Sᴇᴄᴛᴏʀ

Cᴏɴᴠɪᴄᴛ GP-B971-L

Aꜱꜱɪɢɴᴍᴇɴᴛ: Pʟᴀɴᴇᴛ Cʀᴀꜰᴛᴇʀ

Pʟᴀɴᴇᴛ: [ᴇʀʀᴏʀ]

TᴇʀʀᴀIɴᴅᴇx: 8768
Cᴜʀʀᴇɴᴛ Tɪ Gᴀɪɴ: 607/ᴅᴀʏ

Riley nodded, then compared it against the others in the sector. A quick review showed that his guy was leaps and bounds ahead of anyone else in the whole of Izitial Prime, the next-highest Ti score being a mere 4018. "Damn, is this normal for a Planet Crafter?"

Another one of the men he worked with gave a look. "Huh...well, definitely not. Usually their progress is a lot slower than that. But bear in mind it's possible they'll plateau in the near future, so don't get your hopes up."

"I mean, if he's not dead, that's gotta be something right? I mean, his planet's TerraIndex is already 8768, that's like twice as much as the next guy."

"Yeah...well, here's hoping I guess."

"Oh hey, before you go, I can't seem to access more of the personal data on this convict. Any idea how I can manage that?"

"Normally you can't, but I guess you could put in a request or something. I don't know much about your guy either, but from what I've heard it's kind of a bad beat. I heard he got press-ganged into being a Planet Crafter after that warp gate accident in Winnarak Secunda."

Riley froze. "Uh...that guy?"

"Yeah, but I heard he was supposed to be super overworked or something. Then again, try telling Sentinel that. Hey, didn't you use to work at that warp gate?"

"Well yeah, but I transferred out three days before, so-"

"Wasn't accusing you of anything, just wondering." He patted Riley's shoulder and walked off. "Well, best of luck to you and him."

Riley looked back at the screen at the convict designation. GP-B971-L. He didn't need that information request anymore, he knew exactly who he was. He'd worked with Asher. He'd sat next to him at the logistics station.

It couldn't have been his fault, right? He'd been working on the transfer long before that septapox outbreak. But there was a small, irrational part of his mind that told him that if he hadn't transferred he could have helped Asher with his workload. Maybe he would have caught the mistake before it happened. And then Asher wouldn't be down on this planet...a planet that he didn't even have any information on. His was the only planet tagged as [ᴇʀʀᴏʀ], did that happen a lot?

It wasn't his fault and yet he felt like it.

Riley pulled up another panel on the monitor and began working at submitting the request. He didn't need it, but he would probably be able to use it anyways. There had to be something he could do. Asher seemed to be doing good on his own, but that was no guarantee of anything.

The moment he confirmed the request submission, he was immediately hit with an error message.

Iɴꜰᴏʀᴍᴀᴛɪᴏɴ Rᴇqᴜᴇꜱᴛ ꜰᴏʀ Cᴏɴᴠɪᴄᴛ GP-B971-L ᴅᴇɴɪᴇᴅ

There had to be something he could do. And if nothing else he'd worked with Sentinel's systems for thirty years, he knew a few tricks. He cracked his knuckles and got to work.