In different areas of Ikarus station, different individuals prepared for the mission into Earhart.
On the main deck, Dr. Leo Morningstar reviewed the structural integrity of various SLRC craft, ensuring that they could take the beating that was coming their way in the cramped confines of Earhart.
On the security deck, Julian Hargrove reviewed data retrieved by the Pathfinders on the location of the Dreamscape, it's current vector, distance from the defense platforms in system, as well as detailed scans of the damage to the ship. In addition, Mr. Hargrove analyzed escape vectors from the system should things go awry.
Lastly, in the SCIF aboard Ikarus, Pathfinder Dante Flintlocke reviewed data taken from Earhart retrieved remotely from the Dreamscape systems using a compressed version of the A.B.A.D.D.O.N. sub-mind. "What have we here?" he said analyzing the data packets. "Hmm, looks like a message addressed to Dr. Wright. Best send it up to him. Might be from Rose when she believed she was on her deathbed, no sense reading private messages." With a flick of his wrist, he sent the message off to the Director and continued analyzing information retrieved from Earhart, as limited as it was. Little did he know that he had just forwarded a message from a ghost.
Emily found herself spending as much time working out as she did learning what was needed and expected of her in the upcoming mission. She needed to be at the peak levels of performance, especially considering the mission ahead. To recover such an iconic vessel, one that had spent so long out there, exploring the farther reaches of the sector. It gave her heart a flutter whenever she thought about the Dreamscape and its journey. There was nothing more that she wanted than to be one of the people to bring her back to Ikarus, no matter the condition of the ship.
Her mind toyed with the possibilities, the discoveries, the potential answers that the Consortium hadn't even thought questions for yet. Then of the origins of Earhart, the structures and the possible implications of a connection to Sirius in some shape or form. She had read the brief notes available to her describing the structures and its immediate surrounding area. The dangers didn't phase her; this opportunity was of far greater magnitude than any threat could present to her.
It was a short walk from the gym to her allocated quarters, where she washed, dried and refreshed herself. She flicked through the mission details again, thinking about the likely weak points and problems they’d come across. Three shrill beeps sounded the alarm to head to the mess hall for dinner. A groan escaped her. Aboard the Gryphon, it hadn’t been easy to make friends. This had been emphasised by the sideways glances and whispering whenever any of the Consortium walked by them. Mealtimes were no exception to this. Nevertheless, she found herself yet again alone in one of the further corners.
”We have a lot of work to do if we want to bring her home..”
A mutter to herself. The Dreamscape was not in good shape by the looks of the data available. More thoughts were mulled over while she ate, a process made slightly awkward by the distractions. There were thousands on board the Gryphon. Starlight had only moved aboard for the operation. She knew why they didn’t like the Consortium. We were taking their home for a dangerous joyride for a potentially fatal salvage mission. They hadn’t signed up for this, they merely wanted to live their lives in relative safety. She understood and respected that, but it did not change the fact that the mission was going ahead in this manner.
Brad rounded the corner into the mess hall, a whirlwind of flustered energy and data pads. The precarious stack threatened to topple with each hurried step, his brow furrowed in concentration. Scanning the room, his gaze landed on Emily, tucked away in a quiet corner. Relief momentarily washed over him before a playful annoyance took hold.
"There you are!" he exclaimed, maneuvering the data avalanche towards a nearby table. Pads clattered down with a satisfying thud, a few spilling onto the metal surface. "Have you seen Sean? Took off for a 'bio-break' two hours ago and vanished into thin air. Left me with a mountain of reports that 'suddenly require the Director's immediate attention' apparently."
He straightened, brushing a stray bit of hair from his eyes. A wry smile tugged at his lips. "Seems the Gryphon's Captain believes that since the Consortium is 'borrowing' the ship, they can borrow all of it, including the daily reports."
Brad gestured to the fallen data pads with a theatrical sigh. "So much for pre-jump preparations. Though, I suppose Sean deserves a break every now and then, even if it means burying me in paperwork."
His gaze shifted towards Emily's untouched meal, then back to the stack of pads. "Finished your dinner already? Mind if I join you for a moment? These reports won't sort themselves, and frankly, some company would be appreciated."
“I would have thought by now you would be on-top of my routine. But no, I have not seen him.”
That smile dropped when the Gryphon and its captain were mentioned. It still left a bit of a bitter taste, no matter how much of a necessity it was.
“Well, we kinda are taking their home for a ride. A ride to recover something that means a lot to us, granted. But it is a dangerous one.”
A sigh. The food wasn’t helping. Neither was the stack of data pads that had invaded the table, but how could she refuse? Company right about now would be a sweet relief from the soft whisperings of the Gryphon’s crew.
“I don’t mind. Maybe we can figure out more of the plan for the Dreamscape.”
She sets herself to helping sort the data pads out into nice, neat piles. She refrained from being nosey at the contents, simply choosing instead to peruse the mission files once they were organised.
“So, aside from the masses of daily reports, has anything interesting happened?”
He chuckled, then reached down and gingerly extracted a single data pad from the precarious pile. "Well, since you asked," he said, lowering his voice further, "Pathfinder 1 just pulled in a new hyperspace exit point survey. Turns out, mathematically speaking, things might be a bit tighter than a… well, let's just say a weasel in a spacesuit."
Brad's face held a mix of amusement and concern. "Looks like we might need to shave some margin for error off our exit strategy for Earhart. Doesn't leave much wiggle room, especially considering the debris field…"
He trailed off, leaving the unspoken implication hanging in the air. The playful mood had evaporated, replaced by the stark reality of the mission's dangers.
"So," Brad continued, straightening back up and offering a slightly sheepish grin, "how about we tackle these reports together? Two heads are better than one, even if one of those heads is currently drowning in Gryphon plumbing schedules."
”Pathfinder 1? A new explorer division? Musta missed the memo”
She continues to ignore her food, choosing instead to take in the concerns over this Earhart problem. It didnt matter so much about the getting in; she knew that part was simpler. It was the getting out.
“So, we have a small window to get her home, a window we need to be ready for at a moment’s notice. How long until we can be ready for an opening?”
Emily picked up the nearest datapad: ‘Fuel and Maintenance report’. As she perused the numbers and information, she took in the severity of the dangers. It could end badly, for all of them. And yet, it was also this that allured her to the mission. Pushing her luck, as it were. This push may end up costing her life but there was a sense of wanting, to recover the Dreamscape and see her safely restored to her former glory.
Leo looked at the reports from the Darkhorse moored just outside. It was the only Pathfinder vessel above a Gunboat class and would be accompanying the SLRC "fleet" into Earhart for the recovery of the Dreamscape. It's size, mass, and sheer shielding capability would be a great boon in the dangers of the strange system.
Internally, Leo was conflicted. Recovering the Dreamscape would be not only a boon for the Consortium, but a dream come true for Leo. During his tenure, Dr. Montgomery had taken the lead on all technology development and adaptation to the Aquilion Carrier...it was a shame he was still missing in action, his knowledge would be crucial for recovering the large vessel. The only other person with even a kernel of knowledge about it's systems, sub-systems, and otherwise was Rose Emery, the Ex-Director's wayward Daughter now fighting in the trenches in Pennsylvania. She had no interest helping in the ships recovery--and no wonder, being trapped onboard for almost three years was sure to have tired her of it's halls. Still, it would be nice to have her knowledge here.
Then there was Dante Flintlocke. A man of few words, but capable nonetheless...even if Leo didn't enjoy his company. The man in question, was looking over Leo's shoulder at the reports in his hands.
"The Darkhorse can handle Earhart. I'm not sure why you're fretting so much, Dr. Morningstar." he said over his shoulder.
"Maybe--but it's better to be prepared. Don't all of you Pathfinders say something like that?"
Dante backed up a step and turned his head to face Leo. His infuriating helmet blocking his face as always. The bastard never took it off except in private.
"Certainly." he said. "That doesn't mean we agonize about it every second."
Leo guffawed and tossed the pad to Dante who caught it easily.
"Then best of luck. Everything looks like it passes muster but just in case, I overhauled the engines with some of the new experimental designs we've been working on in the lab. Best case is it helps with efficiency within the radiation cloud Earhart is known for. At worst, it will run as normal. No harm trying to make it easier on you."
Dante nodded, clearly unperturbed by the attitude of the Chief Engineer.
"Thank you, Dr. Morningstar. Should I have any questions, I shall direct them to you." he said as he handed the tablet back to the Doctor without even looking at the data on it. Leo took back the tablet as Dante turned on his heel and marched back towards the mooring point, no doubt to continue his preparations for the launch.
"Freaks me the hell out..." he said to himself as he made for the chow hall.