"Here. We should be able to use this for the rest of the floor. Unless something weird is going on, the analog prongs are generally universal for a given area or role. We're, obviously, a lab technitian decal' so..." She trails off, and vaguely waves her hand in the general direction of everyone.
"We should get ourselves properly cleaned for the roll. Work out our next step from there."
Drifter nods and looks around for any technician outfits, badges or other paraphernalia that might look better then the security garb he is currently wearing.
Enhanced security key in hand, the group begins to migrate to the shower area, but Belfore stops short.
"I cannot accompany you further, Administrator. My core programming prevents me from entering clean spaces inside the Tower. Instead, I shall return to my regular duties in the Maintenance room."
The cyborg humms slightly, observing the droid. "I could lift his restrictions, but anyone who knew anything would be suspicious of there being a droid walking around freely."
"That seems like it would just worsen our chances of getting out clean. I think it best to let him go, unless you want to keep it past this mission. In that case just program it to leave and meet you somewhere." Drifter suggests.
Dartel has been to places like this. You all have. Where the air is so sterile and crisp it makes the hairs in your nose stand at attention. Indeed, air quality is one of those things you rarely think about until it's bad. Davika Corporation may have written the book on how to clean air and surfaces of fine particulates. While the outside atmosphere is literally impending death with each lung full, the Tower might as well be any office complex on Coruscant, Alderaan, or any other prominent core world. It is a wonder of technology, a testament to will and the power of capital, and a blazing beacon for how valuable the barons of industry think this planet is to their mining operations.
Transitioning from the Materials Processing room into the showers, where you ritually remove your dirty uniforms, are blasted with warm water from all angles for exactly thirty seconds then blasted by an air dryer for another thirty seconds, shuffled toward new linens and wardrobe (K on map). Several people move though the room as the lunch crowd moves in and out of the Lab. They pay little attention to any of you while they go about their business. Clean suits are shed and recycled, and a carousel of color-coded uniforms dominates the far wall.
You get the distinct impression that here again, the color of the uniform you choose will dictate the role you can expect to play when you enter the Lab. Notably absent are the black uniforms worn by Security. The four colors available are White (lab tech), Green (admin), Crimson (executive), and Orange, the purpose for which is as yet unknown. A bipedal droid with six long arms stands at the carousel, facilitating the extraction of uniforms.
The six of you stand in your clean skivvies, facing a decision.
"Hm..."
She considered the droid before they went through he cleaning process, approaching it to attach her jacks. A droid of any sort would be useful to them, it shouldn't be too much trouble to give it a set of instructions of how to leave the building and where to wait. If they never had the chace to pick it up afterward, well, it's maintenance protocols would clear out the instructions eventually.
A midway point between here and the port seemed like a good point of reference. Instructions made, she nodded to Belfore. "Return to your protocols, as they come in."
Once in t he cleanroom, it felt a bit strange not having herself clothed for a short span of time. The bulk of her outfit really did hide the number of curves she'd both been born with and modified into herself over the years. Picking out the whites of a lab tech was a no-brainer, but she tried to keep her ear out for talk about what the orange uniforms entailed.
Honey perceives that the quantity of colors on the rack and on persons returning from the lab favors white over orange by 2:1, and white over green by 8:1. Only a three of the crimson outfits hang on the carousel. The purpose of orange defies her ability to guess it.
Khal ensures that his clothes are properly cared for then arranges a way to carry them surreptitiously. He then takes one of the crimson outfits as Executives are most likely to have to talk.
He tries to ascertain the purpose of the orange by examining the clothes.
Drifter takes all of his belongings on the way out. He then dresses up in white tech colors in the hopes that he has the best chance to pretend to be one of them.
The plentifully appendaged valet droid notices Honey and Khal inspecting the orange uniforms. When Khal selects crimson and Honey selects white, it loses interest and retreats, its slim hopes for actual conversation with another sentient being dashed.
Lo, the lonely life of an earnest droid.
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With two choosing White, and the smooth talker in red, Mal felt that a green suit would be good to cover any holes in their cover story. He'd found that 'I'm from Admin' could be more general, and sometimes more useful, than even an executive order. One could always shut down anything just by saying "There's no budget for that."
"I think I look good in green," he smarmily declares, doing a little jig, apropos of nothing.
Honey rolled her eyes, an exceptionally common display considering this was their first time uncovered. Her face was honestly on the more unremarkable side despite its faded palor. Soft green irises accompanied by short unkept blonde hair, if one were to ignore the rather obviously metallic jawline she'd pass for a regular human.
Tavin hesitates as the rest of the group picks a variety of colored uniforms. Uncertain if the group should know what ones to pick, and not sure if the group should have one of each, he stands in front of the rack with a confused look on his face. "Uh, what's orange for again? I can never remember," he says while scratching his head, hoping the valet droid hears him and chimes in.
The valet droid spins as if dancing to Tavin's query. It chirps an enthusiastic platitude in the familiar modal binary of Droid Beep Basic, accompanied by a strangely cheerful artificial Kuatese accent, insofar as a beep may be accented. It's more of a percussive quality, and then a bend to the individual tone. High speak, as it were, for a droid.
"You are a materials handler," chirps the droid. "Responsible for any required contact with the specimens. A very important job, no?"
Tha valet spins the rack and retrieves an orange tunic in Tavin's size and extends it to him.
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"The droid's probably right," Mal says, sizing up Tavin's new look. "We might need to handle materials, so it'd be good to have a materials handler.
Alright do we have some plans here? Plan A is, I think, get Honey to a computer and have her scramble the data showing the crystals are excellent as paper weights or remarkably silent pets, but lousy at directly or indirectly causing things to blow up.
Plan B, which came to me just now, is have Tavin grab some crystals, mix in some dirt or talcum or something not-crystal, and then run it through an analyzer. Then we have Honey just copy that data like, a billion times, so any evaluation of that sample size will show that the crystals are too contaminated to blow stuff up.
How's that sound?"
With Dartel's selection of a white tunic, (and having seen each other naked and unashamed) the group heads for the second Guard station. Here the guards are noticeably more alert, and they instantly rise when they see the crimson uniform pass through the forcefield.
"Sir!" they nod and stand rigid as Khal enters, resplendent in his executive livery. They do not even question you - certainly you belong here! Who else would wear that color?
Nevertheless, the room is filled with tension; you can hear yourselves breathing. Honey approaches the clean lock, key extended toward the receptacle on the wall...
The key slides in easily, and in a moment the indicator light flashes green! You are at the precipice of the Lab. Now you can see through the final clean lock into the large space, filled with cutting edge technology and technicians busily working at various stations. Immediately you know the task may not be as simple as you were led to believe...
Before you pass through the final clean lock you can see the Lab laid out in the large space beyond. Spanning the width of the tower, technicians work at stations featuring various technological apparatus. You count six techs in white, one in orange, and one wearing green. There are no droids in the Lab; this appears to be a homogeneously human endeavor.
As you step through the lock the administrator in green tosses a brow in your direction, but then, like the guards in the previous room, his posture stiffens when he sees Khal in crimson, and he hastens to greet you.
Affecting a smile he surely does not feel, he clutches a datapad and stands at attention. "Sir, welcome to the Lab. Unannounced visits from Level Four are always appreciated. Way to keep us on our toes! We are a reduced staff at the moment given the hour. Surely you will want a tour and the honor will fall to me, as you've caught Chief Buzik out on lunch. I am Vance Koran, one of the administrators in this facility, but of course you can see that." Koran swallows and turns away, clears his throat, and gestures into the space.
"We are processing the Red Barren ore and crystals," he leads you to the left and shoos away the materials handler. "Packaged unfinished samples are brought in here for final cleaning, cutting, and polishing. Then they go through chemical analysis at the next station. All results are studiously recorded. We look for purity and a uniform crystalline structure, as well as color and clarity. You'd be amazed at the different properties which can be assigned by color alone!"
Koran continues clockwise around the Lab. "Careful here, this is the exhaust lens, which diffuses the beam and passes it harmlessly out to the planet wastes. Relatively harmless," he thinks to add. "Now here you have the mirror and lens prep and ready storage. We have the equipment to grind and polish the glass for major or minor adjustments, and this radial grinder is capable of refinements to 73 nanometers. Rather impressive, is it not?" Koran is clearly more comfortable talking to the equipment than he is to all of you.
Your attention is drawn to the massive machine dominating the north end of the Lab. "Now here is what you came to see - the beam emitter. If you look up along the spine of the lab you'll see where we keep the lens and mirror harnesses while the beam is not in use. They are lowered by this console here. And the test crystals which pass analysis are fitted into the chamber here at the front of the emitter. The power unit is self-contained and autonomous; it is not connected to the building. The Lab itself is totally insulated against radiation, and the emitter controls are in the Chief's office. Only Chief Buzik is permitted to execute test firings.
"Finally, the quality of the beam is measured and analyzed at this station here."
The brief tour complete, Vance Koran escorts you to the clean lock where you entered. "Perhaps you'd like to return when the Chief gets back from lunch. I'll make him aware of your inspection. What name should I give?"
Honey finds her eyes drawn to the station where they were analyzing the beam qualities, mentally marking that as the place she'd likely have to start first. She could already think of a few ways to throw off the systems in a way to make things seem less then perfect.
A) Sample Prep (Clean, Cut, Polish) DN: Easy. Relevant Skills: Dexterity, Scholar (KNO), Value (KNO). Con or Persuasion to interact with the Tech.
B) Exhaust Lens DN: Easy. Relevant Skills: Strength to manipulate, Investigation (PER). Con or Persuasion to interact with the Tech.
C) Mirror and Lens storage and refining DN: Moderate. Relevant Skills: Scholar (KNO), Computer Programming (TEC). Con or Persuasion to interact with the Tech.
D) Beam Emitter DN: Difficult. Relevant Skills: Scholar (KNO), Investigation (PER), Demolitions (TEC), Starship Weapons Repair (TEC). Con or Persuasion to interact with the Tech.
E) Spectroanalyzer DN: Difficult. Relevant Skills: Scholar (KNO), Forgery (PER), Investigation (PER), Computer Programming (TEC). Con or Persuasion to interact with the Tech.
"This truly is a fascinating piece of technology, She starts off easy enough, approaching the spectroanaylizer. "Could you demonstrate to me some of the finer details? If I ever hope to make it in this company, learning how this thing operates is beyond necessary."
The technician at the Spectroanalyzer freezes when Honey approaches, tries to pretend she is talking to someone else, and then finally turns around slowly. He is middle-age, heavy set, and wearing tinted goggles. His eyes go wide when he sees a woman standing nearby, as if it had never happened before. Maybe it hadn't. He looks toward the Administrator, but Koran's attention is still on Khal. Bravely, the technician resolves himself to conversation.
He licks his lips as if whisking saved crumbs from an earlier lunch. With a smack of his tongue he responds in a high voice. "Of course, but first, answer this: Where do bad rainbows go?"
Somehow she managed to resist rolling her eyes. "Feel free to enlighten me."
Khal looks around disdainfully. ”I do not have time to wait. We are on a schedule here so you will answer the questions we have.”
Koran purses his lips. "Of course, sir. How else my I be of service?"
Somehow she managed to resist rolling her eyes. "Feel free to enlighten me."
"Prism!" answers the technician.
She attempts to muster something of a smile, "Clever."
The technician seems pleased with himself and with Honey's reaction, and he steps aside to explain the machine.
"I'm just finishing the analysis of the morning test. You can see some of the results here, in the wave matrix. See that dispersion pattern? That's what we've been seeing from crystals which are predominately of red hues. It has a tendency toward less predictable results, although the intensity ratios are the highest we've measured."
He points to the wave pattern on the screen. "What do you make of that?"
Honey frowns, but still takes the time to examine the screen. It's honestly frustrating that she can't figure it out on her own. Yet then again, it's not like she was a physicist. Probably "It seems to be a bit beyond me, can you explain what this section over here means?"
Drifter keeps an eye out for any workers who start to wonder about the assorted group talking to the technician.
Drifter will then turn and head over to the Exhaust Lens to work on the station and see what is happening. He will nod to a technician and say, "How is the lens holding up?"
Drifter applies a firm hand to the lens, which is affixed o a saddle and a carbon fiber sheath protecting the Lab from the outside air. His movement is well-disguised, and although imperceptible to the technician not fully paying attention, Drifter can feel the lens shift ever so slightly.
"Hmm?" the technician responds, his face buried in a data pad. He looks up to see Drifter removing his hands from the exhaust lens apparatus. His eyes dart toward where Administrator Koran is still chatting with Khal.
"Please don't touch that," the tech says quietly in an admonishing tone. He looks at the lens but appears to not give the likelihood of accidental realignment much thought.
"We just slotted this one yesterday. I'm finishing up calibration right now. Its always possible a lens or mirror may need to be sent back to the grinding and polishing station for fine-tuning. We'll test the beam again this afternoon and have more complete data."
He pauses and looks directly at Drifter. "You have strong hands," he says appraising Drifter's stature. "People often underestimate the value of a strong pair of hands when working with glass. Hm."
The heavy-set tech at the spectroanalyzer steps aside. "Have a seat and I'll demonstrate." He waits for her to settle and then leans over the console next to her, thick fingers tapping nimbly the various controls.
The wave matrix rotates and is then inverted. A line runs the span on screen while numbers representing amplitude and frequency fluctuate rapidly. This it freezes on a point.
"See there?" the tech stabs the screen. "That spike. We're seeing that a lot with the reds. So far we can't figure it out. It could be an imperfection in the crystal lattice that for whatever reason we're not seeing at the processing station. It could be something else, like an improper grounding or even a short somewhere, but there's no consistency to it. So we're stumped. On the other hand, the blue and green crystals are smooth like--" You feel him staring at the nape of your neck.
"Well anyway. That's what I'm trying to figure out."
She felt excessively uncomfortable here. Keeping herself fully covered had the benefit of not attracting the wrong kind of attention, and this certainly qualified. However. He had just set her down right in font of this thing, and it was clear that he had a few other things on his mind then exactly what she was doing.
While she may not've understood exactly what all this meant, the information he'd given her was enough to make some guesses. With those, she might just be able to misrepresent the data in a way people looking at it won't notice.
"Oh, I think I'm starting to get it. So if I were to go back and look at wave matrix and cross-point it with this datapoint here.." She starts to ramble, shifting herself just enough to flash a bit more skin. Using whatever she had on hand was something any good slicer learnt.
Under the guise of being an interest and curious young female colleague, Honey's fingers made light work. If she did this well enough, nobody would even notice the changes as the rippled through the database.
Khal walks over to the sample prep and works to the tech talking to him to distract using the uniform to ensure that not too much attention is paid to the flurry of questions designed to punctuate when misdirection is needed.
= 28!
= 30!!
Khal walks dismissively away from Administrator Koran, but the confidence of his demeanor is soul crushing to the junior leader, and Koran withers and retreats to a dark corner of the Lab, presumably to collect the fallen shards of his shattered existence.
His presence alone nearly knocks the poor Sample tech from his feet, and whatever he chooses to say is responded to with near gibberish. So confounded is this poor fellow that he completely fails to see what Khal does with his hands. In fact, none of you see it; the demonstration of agility is absolute.
In a moment, the crystal which had been cleaned and polished to gleaming perfection is instead swapped with one that is jagged and irregular, with many dark blotches and dull in color in and clarity. Khal passes it to the tech, who nods happily, then proceeds to take the dud of a gem over to the beam emitter and fit it directly into the focus chamber.
The task complete, he smiles at Khal and gives an enthusiastic thumbs up.
The spectroanalyzer comes alive under Honey's touch; it responds to her every movement like a well-loved pet craving affection in exchange for obedience. While the middle-aged virgin standing beside her ogles the contours of her scalp, Honey rearranges the logic parameters in the processing algorithm. The operation goes so smoothly she has time to encrypt the new workflow so deeply that it would take a heroic feat of programming prowess to undo.
When complete, the console beeps cheerfully, ready for the next test.
Seeing the others start to spread out to engage the techs, Tavin moves over to where the mirror and lenses are stored.
"Did he say you can refine the lenses to 73 nanometers? Is it really necessary to be so precise?" Tavin says to the tech as he looks things over trying to determine what he could do to sabotage the equipment.
The technician at the lens and mirror station looks at Tavin and smiles. "Well I can only imagine, with the type of tests we're conducting here, that Davika's customer for these gems want to know the possible yields exactly. Look around - the equipment in this Lab alone is worth more than the entirety of most Outer Rim worlds. We didn't bring all of this out here to install in a most inhospitable dirtball planet just so we could incessantly practice cleaning it."
You note that the mirrors and lenses are all different sizes; the storage is a series of open lockers which a metal extractor arm overhead carries them out and installs into the beam array. You surmise that the order and configuration of lenses and mirrors in the array is critical to the beam tests. A computer console stands near the grinding and polishing device and also serves as the extractor arm control.
"Hmm, interesting. I can't imagine what we're charging for these gems to cover this expense. I wonder who's buying them. Any thoughts?" Tavin asks.
Tavin shrugs his shoulders. "Anyway, how do you know what lens to use?"
The technician grins. "Well, any of the large mega-corps would use tech like this for their security fleets, and of course the Empire and the Rebels, if we're talking weapons. I can think of several less-lethal applications which could bring thousands of potential customers.
"Anyway, the array of mirrors and lenses is finely tuned, as you must realize, so the specific configuration depends on the test parameters. Look up there, that set was selected to test a LGR - that's what we call the big red shards. The console positions each element with absolute precision and the entire apparatus is re-calibrated before every test.
"I run the leans and mirror grinding and polishing, but I also validate the test sample that comes over from the Materials Processing station. It looks like the next test is a SMG, a small to medium green."
The technician taps the console to convey the sample parameters matching the array. All of this happens as the orange-jumpsuit wearing materials handler carries the dirty crystal from his station over to the Beam Emitter.
There is a sudden whir of activity as the mechanical arms reshuffles the lens and mirror array replacing the large sections of glass with an entirely new set from the storage lockers. It's quite interesting to watch.
"That's fascinating. Seems like you have an efficient system going here. How many can you do in an hour? Do you have a quota? With the cost of this, I imagine the admins want you to go as fast as you can. 'Time is money' as they say. So when everything is in place, you just push this," Tavin says as he reaches towards the screen.