Obi-me unshouldered the crate, secondary appendages securing it down with electromechanical hardpoint locks beneath chipped paint that read ‘BAY 6’. The hulking figure gave the container a light shove, then turned back to Agnès, offering a crisp thumbs-up from a primary manipulator.
“Merci, cher.” Dr. Agnès Lemaître’s gratitude lilted with ancient habit.
Nchọ hunched over the flight deck, finalizing nodes in a flight plan. “all clear, mostly. it’s a big universe, once these knuckleheads shove off.”
A small shuttle drifted just past the edge of the docks. It made a tight roll left, then snapped back, RCS units tracing elongated trails in vacuum. “Traffic, Victor Three November, braking burn initiated for descent course. See you eggheads on the surface, out.” The craft’s drive cone gently lit up, cautious not to blast into the docks.
As the freighter’s startup sequence progressed, Nchọ’s subsystems initiated their own flight protocols; thrusters preheated, radar pinged awake, radios dialed up gain, and the fusion core in their chest ramped up to a light hum. A peer-to-peer comm-link to Obi-me and Lemaître registered on their HUD, no longer routed through Nysa’s Wake’s intranet. “onwards! Obi, all units locked down?”
> bay lock 1: ENGAGED > bay lock 2: ENGAGED > bay lock 3: ENGAGED > bay lock 4: ENGAGED > bay lock 5: FAULT > bay lock 6: ENGAGED
A pause. “Blame my ambition, hélas,” she called out from the second bay.
Nchọ turned, but Obi-me was already floating back to the unsecured container unit. It braced itself against nearby bulkheads and then stood sideways on the unit’s hull, using its body to span the freighter’s chassis and the large metallic box with powerful magnets in its feet.
> 🔒
“always the pragmatist,” Nchọ muttered, flicking the autopilot live. “taking us up!”
In vacuum, the freighter was deceptively silent as its small maneuvering thrusters floated it off the starboard dock of Nysa’s Wake. The craft lumbered over neighboring berths, all busy with activity after in-person exploration was deemed safe, and slowly crossed the threshold into the emptiness overlooking the Slumbering Empyrean.
The Antikythera manifested from all around them with a patient status update. “Primion excitation baseline stable. Trajectory optimized for minimal cognitive effect.” A further tooltip appeared around Obi-me, indicating the AI’s cognitive function had fallen to 97.3%. As the autopilot started the braking burn, the percentage dropped to 97.2%.
Nchọ kicked off the ceiling of the flight deck, floating down into the cargo hold. “alr, i’m sending a timer for when the autopilot will do a more significant course correction, once we’re well clear of our little home. Agnès, all good?”
A breath, centuries old. “…checking my records, it’s been two hundred and thirty-one years since I last left my laboratory."
"oh, every recent excursion has been in a remote frame, huh?”A shrug, even in digital voice. “Oui, mobility is not my forte lately.”
Obi-me displayed Lemaître’s telepresence bodies: most stowed in foetal position in container unit one, with a tooltip flagging a lagging frame in need of update. An antique lingered in standby back on Nysa’s Wake. “Cher, the latency disturbs me. Live company is preferred.”
> next open schedule slot: 481.3h
”I’ll pine, but my work calls below.”
The trio enjoyed a few minutes of quiet in the void.
Nchọ finished the makeshift tie-down for the fifth container; they always kept some nylon webbing in their personal kit, as they would happily espouse. A large, familiar hand folded around their chest from behind, hoisting them into an embrace in smaller arms.
”ok, ok! you did good, but i prefer you as more than a structural member.”> peak grip strength utilized: 31.9%
“yes, you’re quite strong.” They struggled against the grip, knowing it was futile. “hey, Agnès! remember, we’ve just three hours to help you unpack before the next job."
"Indeed. Once you liberate my bodies from their coffin, I should be able to do much more myself.”“morbid,” Nchọ teased.
”Just my hands, not my soul.”
“strap in, y’all! we’re approaching the Empyrean."
"Softly please! Fragile freight, fragile scientist."
"always, Doc. you’re in good hands, this is a pretty routine maneuver. speaking of, taking manual control…”
The freighter came to a gentle hover, and then slowly lowered itself on reaction vapor, the low surface gravity of the Slumbering Empyrean only slightly resisting.
”…contact light! heh, i’ve always wanted to say that.”
> anchor pile penetration: 4m
The titan hefted the driver, mounting the massive tool onto a magnetic hardpoint. It approached Lemaître, executed a light, thruster-assisted jump, and landed with feline grace to sit gently atop her boxy chassis. Her cooling systems thrummed softly, data links braided to the portable lab; each cable a nerve, her awareness spread across every attached interface.
”That will do. Finally! Real samples, real work." "and we’ll be happy to hear allllll about it when we’re next back here. stay safe!” Nchọ was again finishing a flight plan, shouting over their shoulder. ”Of course. À bientôt." "Obi, we’re burning daylight. time to dust off!”> reaction mass: 872.7kg
”…fine, but you had better make it on here before the main engine goes hot. i don’t want to send S ‘n’ R to come get you. again.”
The freighter’s maneuvering nozzles came to life as the craft started a leisurely ascent. Obi-me lingered a moment, fusion core building to a deep purr. Just when the craft appeared out of reach, Obi-me activated its own engines, augmenting its movement to a terrifying pace for such a large creature. “J’ai plaisir, chère. Mind them for me.”
It makde a hard sprint for the freighter, gait was strange from the lack of gravity, compensated by magnetic feet and RCS assistance. With athletic precision, it bounded, and then launched towards the freighter, aligning its primary drive cone toward the craft for final approach.
> distance: 291.8m > distance: 173.0m
”…oh shit, you’re coming in real hot. ok, my hand’s off the stick, bring it in.”
> distance: 60.2m
There was a massive thump, and the freighter’s flight computer complained as Obi-me added its kinetic energy to the vehicle. “good. we’re just off about 60 kilometers north to Delta Site for a sample pickup. don’t nestle too deep, titan.”
It walked back to the edge of the cargo hold, gazing down upon the quickly shrinking research outpost.