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At your behest, Shis’so accompanies you on the shuttle over to the prize ship. With the Carlottan not one for casual conversation, the two of you ride in silence, accompanied by a few other members of your engineering crew.
You arrival is heralded by a single member of the prize crew greeting you at the airlock. The ship was just as run-down as it had appeared on the video feed during the initial boarding, though by now the air had been refreshed and the ship’s reactor had been brought completely online, restoring proper functionality to the vessel. Still, you feel just a little isolated as you and Shis’so walk the empty hallways, until you reach the bridge. It’s hard to tell what the ship was built for or how it’s been modified. Old, to be sure, and not the size to be a freight workhorse.
The bridge itself is a cramped affair, a hallmark of commercial vessels designed to have as little crew space as possible to better accommodate business needs. Shis’so disembarks from their floating cylinder and conglomerates around an unoccupied console, while the commander of the prize crew steps over to you. A human like yourself, Carrak’s not the sharpest member of your crew, but he’s loyal, and you would rather have someone in command of the prize ship who wouldn’t run away with it at the first opportunity.
“Here’s the best we’ve got after poring over the diagnostics, skipper.” Carrak hands you a ‘pad with a woefully small list of conclusions, which you scan quickly. Based on his analysis, the ship had once been a routine light hauler, typically used for internal company business rather than fulfilling contracts, and had been stripped of its equipment before getting sent out to its resting place at the station.
“Anything <span class="mu-i">non</span>functional?” you ask. Carrak shakes his head.
“Aside from the lack of cargo loading equipment, it seems completely intact, even if it is dated. One thing did strike us as a bit odd, though… the coldsleep section seems to have been expanded.” He steps over to the master console for the section, pointing at one of the panels. “See, FSP regulations mandate room and supplies to house the standard crew, and half again. This hull would need, say, thirty for a full complement… but there’s room for seventy down there,” he says, indicating the rows of lights on the console.
That was certainly an anomaly, and extra room for coldsleep was exactly the opposite of what you’d expect from any large company. And with no signs that the ship had been used for anything other than light hauling, you were at a loss for a reason for all the extra capacity.
“Any idea where the modification came from? Or was it built this way?”
Without waiting for an answer, you crouch down and peer at the manufacturer’s label on the underside of the console. <span class="mu-i">Hu Veron Shipways.</span> Not a name you were familiar with, you admit; but there were hundreds of major and minor shipyards in the known galaxy.
