>>5944888You make a number of sharp turns, skirting around dead-end passages, down corridors with sealed off doors, and through several gutted rooms with makeshift bulkheads welded through the middle — all typical features of decks that have had the misfortune of overlapping the space allocated to the ever-expanding live void core that acts as the beating heart of the ship. These secretive sections are where all the unique and wonderful artech (like your uniform and the ship’s armour) are produced, theorised by some to be a byproduct of the void core’s power production process.
Theories are all the Protectorate's scientists will ever have however, as none of the other inert cores scattered through the galaxy exhibit these tendencies and the Captain would never risk crippling his ship to find out, especially since he’d have to force his way past the automated security to even access those sections. The old Protectorate Space Force shipwrights sure were a paranoid bunch back when we were still squabbling with our neighbours instead of helping them survive. Funny how losing the majority of your citizens to a galaxy spanning Cataclysm changes a star nation’s perspective on things.
Distracted by your thoughts, you round the final corner of your circuitous route leading to the back side of the CIC and belatedly realise your so-called ‘shortcut’ seems to have become more of a dead-end. Your path has been obstructed by none other than the Chief Engineer himself. It seems you aren’t the only one who uses these back passages for a quieter path to the CIC.
The burly human man stands with his back to you, fists planted firmly on his hips, as he argues animatedly with a half-sealed blast door. Or rather with the WEAVER drone flashing its red indicators at the Chief from behind it. You can just hear the sound of electrical faults and running fluid from within before the sounds are drowned out.
“I don’t care what authority you think you have, you damn bucket-of-bolts!” The Chief Engineer grinds out with barely repressed rage, “I’ve been kicking around this old girl since I was smaller than you are, you glorified cricket ball, and I know the sound of structural damage when I hear it! So back off while I get this hatch reset and don’t touch anything!”
The two foot wide orb bobs impassively for a moment before replying in a loud monotone.
==THIS UNIT CANNOT COMPLY. THIS CORRIDOR MUST BE SEALED PERMANENTLY TO ENSURE OPERATIONAL SECURITY. WEAVER UNITS ONSITE ARE EQUIPPED TO MAKE THE NECESSARY ADJUSTMENTS==
Bright blue welding arc flashes light up the corridor, painting the scene before you in stark relief. You blink away the after-images and try to peer through the gap made by the glitching blast door but cannot make out anything in the gloomy interior of the passage beyond. Just your luck, one final set of doors beyond this one and you’d have been home free. It's almost as if someone was out to get you today…no, you must try not to slip into paranoia.
