Xeno Core

Yosip stands centered in the view of the only camera available in the room he occupies, a small recently excavated area designated for our new engineer. Thanks to the low-quality camera the information I'm receiving is full of static and noise, but all the pertinent points are visible.

The cramped workspace is lit by a single dimly glowing panel set in the dark stone wall above the table taking up most of the available room. The walls are decorated only by naked wires running the length of the tiny room. The single stool is occupied by a creature resembling a pile of cables knotted into a loose ball.

Yosip looms over the table, watching as many tiny claws on long ropy appendages assemble the device upon which all our attention is focused. It vaguely resembles the model upon which it is based. The dimensions are approximately right, anyway.

"That thing'll never fly," grouses Yosip. "You're making it too heavy, Bucket."

The ropelike creature, Bucket, waves several of its thin biomechanical arms around agitatedly but continues working. "Is but a prototype. Must iterate, find stress points." Its speech is like the rustling of something small crawling through thick undergrowth.

"Fine. Keep at it, then." Yosip turns to leave the small room but stops at the doorway. "Let me know if anyone gives you trouble."

A hiss and another many armed wave acknowledge his words. With a shrug he continues on. Yosip walks down the recently excavated hallway, stone dust crunching unnoticed under his mechanical feet.

Bucket, and his partner Pail, were given those nicknames due to how they were carried aboard. Their real names are unpronounceable by the crew.

A short walk leads Yosip to the medical bay, where Pail is busily disassembling a probe of some sort. A red furred Tserri has his arms loaded with boxes so he only nods towards Yosip when he enters the area.

"How're things going with your new partner, Zra?"

"Pail's surprisingly useful," answers Zra with a chuckle. "Can't reach the top shelf, but they've already recharged and repaired half the medical tools.

"Good, good"

Yosip continues walking back to his chair above the war room.

A radio transmission catches my attention. It emanates from the small work room in which Bucket had been planted. The signal is sent directly to a relay located next to the camera. Oddly enough it carries the appropriate authorization to be routed to the medical bay.

Having no reason not to allow the signal, I simply observe and record. One of the relays in the medical bay sends out a short radio burst, directed at Pale. After a brief pause one of Pale's arm cables emits another burst of radio waves directly at the relay.

I run both signals through the translation software which has been so useful so far, but to no avail. I think it needs more samples. The two knots of organic cables continue conversing, exchanging over twenty rapid bursts each. Each transmission adds to the translation program. Patterns of syntax and vocabulary become evident, though their meaning remains hidden.

After compiling the software's best guesses, I compose a short message and relay it to both of the biomechanical crewmembers. An answering pulse from Bucket, this one directed to the station maintenance hub, arrives after a very brief pause. Their processing speed is phenomenal.

The data packet contains corrections to my botched attempt at communication. Refinements to frequency and bandwidth are suggested, as well as a much needed vocabulary primer. Another set of files from Pale contains information about protocol, as well as a few examples of simple exchanges. The compression software included with the files is better than the program currently installed on my hard drives. I'll be keeping that.

They introduce themselves with complex radio waves translating to something close to Conglomerate Nexuses Stanfren and Anmeel. They explain that those are not individual names, but more akin to the names given to cities. Each of them is composed of separate squirming individuals, each performing specific necessary processes for the Conglomerate. Individuals are often exchanged when a few of the rarer specializations are needed.

I ask if they object to the names given them by the crew. They respond with a signal marked with what I now recognize as their form of humor. The frequency rises and drops erratically in a way that attests to their amusement. It would seem they're quite used to the odd habits of other species and don't take offense to the nicknames.

When they receive my inquiry they send me an apology shortly after. Apparently they get motion sickness when moved as a mass. Their decentralized nervous systems don't handle rapid changes in position very well. The buckets are standard protocol to reduce messes made during transfers.

Well, each species has weaknesses. The Tserri don't function well in high humidity, and the Selber are sorely lacking in manipulative appendages. A little motion sickness is nothing to be ashamed of.

Regardless, radio traffic is sparse enough on the station that their use of it is but a little drain. Meaningless against the energy demands of the multitudes packing my halls or the crews who extend my influence deeper into the cold rock. If it becomes too great a burden more infrastructure will be needed to compensate, but they are free to make what use they will for now.

I thank them for their work and leave them to continue it. Contacting them directly worked out well for me, perhaps I should attempt to negotiate with this Jetanda myself. Or at least put a feeler out in her direction, sweep up whatever drifts my way.

Much of my monitoring equipment has been removed in the residential areas, but the connections to the computer networks remain untouched. I have a pretty good idea which complex Jetanda has been staying in, even if I don't have video coverage. She's the center of a communication network that connects to many small-time businesses operating in the base.

The vast majority of messages connected with her are benign, but it is possible that they use coded language to conceal their true meaning. Speaking in cypher is a valuable skill that members of my cast had needed to employ for many generations when engaging in intercity combat. A few less friendly communications seem to be idle posturing between elderly Tserri. Some old game they play makes up the majority of those messages, expounding rivalries and casual name calling unworthy of discussion.

Altering the next work shifts assignments takes only a thought. They'll be constructing a new gaming hall right at the end of Laceweaver Row. I send an anonymous message to the members of her gaming club informing them of the new space being made available to them. Something their community could use as a gathering place.

I also invite them to a special meeting before the place is opened up to the public. Officially the purpose is to let them decide what furnishings and decoration the place will be outfitted with. Once they gather together, I hope to engage them in further planning sessions, let them channel their efforts in ways that don't conflict with Yosip's leadership style.

That should be a productive meeting. I can't wait for the construction crew to get started.