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Next morning ...
Traffic bustles ceaselessly, embri commuters whistle to each other, and waves batter the coast. An airlock door cuts off the odor of brine, sliding shut and muting the city’s white noise.
Inside the submarine’s iron-tight belly, seating fixtures are built of uncomfortable but economical metal and plastic. Portside windows face the settlement’s skyline, which is lit by lavender morning hues. On the starboard side, the ocean crests beneath a periwinkle sky.
Deep beneath the waves, crystalline deposits emit a faint glow, revealing the subaquatic landscape. Spiny shells claw up cliffsides, and feathery plants beckon with undulating fronds. A shark darts past the view port, its exposed belly a streak of white. The shuttle rounds a peak, and an underwater city emerges into view, its clustered buildings connected by transparent tubes.
Within an hour, the submarine releases its passengers into a dry lobby with frigid air that tastes of salt. Featureless ceramic panels line the floor and ceiling, creating an expanse of white. Many identical passages lead further into the station, too curved and deep to see where they go. Twin embri clad in matching masks intercept the visitors.. The masks’ cartoonish googly eyes and painted grins make it impossible to read their true expressions. They speak in falsely cheerful voices: You are here for the guided tour of this facility. Come with us.
You are joined by about a dozen other tourists. Heavily armed security guards stationed at regular intervals throughout most areas in the facility actively prevent tourists from wandering away, and restricted areas are protected by locks and security cameras.
The tour starts in the reception area. The embri tour guides give a scripted description of the facility’s struggles against ocean pollution and highlight some of its wildlife management programs. The conversation is one-sided, ignoring guest comments and responding to questions with clipped answers. After a few minutes, they lead the tour through the door into a windowless hallway
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"Morvuul, make sure you keep your mouth shut. This isn't the time for your inane machinations or incoherent outbursts."
Receiving a rebuke from the damai and seeing no technology worth stealing, Morvruul only mutters inaudibly to himself. With his mouth fully covered, as is traditional for his kind, it is impossible to tell what he is saying.
Drouff, his goblin valet, gives a rote response, "You're right, of course, boss."
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Cha'mon Cha'mon, turns to one of the guides and says, "What's the story with the masks, boys? Afraid to show your faces?"
"Well, if you must know, it is taboo in witchwyrd culture to exposes one's--" Morvruul begins to reply, before realizing that the damai was not addressing him. "Oh, you were speaking to the embri? In that case, you may continue on in your ignorance."
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"It intrigues me how many different cultures to conceal some or all of their facial features. I would be interested to learn how this came about. Of course, my face is difficult to see because of my hydrobody, but I have no issue revealing myself." The cuttlefish moves into one of the arms of the hydrobody.
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Sturmvanger finds most of the questions pointless but answers them to the best of his ability, especially since he knows Seggas is exceptionally intelligent so she will likely pass the test and he doesn't want to get separated from her if he fails.
He is quite relieved when they are reunited.
Sturmvanger takes up at least two seats in the sub and is clearly glad to get out of the confined space when they arrive, though he does not complain.
It doesn't take long before he realizes they're not going to learn anything useful on this tour.
His attention snaps to Seggas as she mentions her biological need.
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Cha'mon Cha'mon, turns to one of the guides and says, "What's the story with the masks, boys? Afraid to show your faces?"
Seggas's eyes widen at the question and is very glad to be leaving for the toilets. Even she knew that this was likely a loaded question.
She passes close to Khubelu as she leaves the room and has a very momentry urge to stick the cuttlefish with one of her experimental genetic analyzers given how rare an opportunity him moveing to the surface of his not real hydrobody. She takes a deep breath and clenches her fist instead looking at Sturm.
The biohacker then leaves the room but notices she still has a security guard. Trying to act like a ditsy tourist she asks quesitons about the place, like 'What's that?' or 'Oh, this is pretty what's it do?' 'That room looks so cool, can I stick my head inside?' but she does keep her eyes peeled.
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The security guard isn't answering questions, although it does stop you from going anywhere but the restroom.
Unfortunately there's no sign of the terminal with the odd screensaver.
The rest of the tour moves up into the next room.
The guides are silent as they march down this hallway, but it’s devoid of security guards.
cameras positioned along the ceiling. These cameras alert security to PCs
who break away from the tour unless the cameras are disabled.
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Seggas, back with the group, yawns as she catches sight of the cameras and then looks over at Sturm and then thinks over at Khubelu.
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"No need for hostility. I simply wanted to ensure that the team was acting in concert.
Khubelu reshapes her hydrobody so that it's more like a puddle. She then projects to the guides, "Excuse me, but I require assistance. My osmium compensator is malfuntioning. I have tumbled and am unable to rise."
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Sturmvanger moves to "help" Khubelu but doesn't actually do anything but get his bulk in the way of anyone ACTUALLY helping Khubelu.
"Help! He needs help!" he declares.
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Seggas fails to gain entry but Cha'mon is able to get the door open.
Cords and lavender circuitry line the machines and outlets in this room, casting everything in shades of purple. A thick, transparent shield stands between three massive observation telescopes and computer workstations connected to them by tangles of cables. Screen savers guard their contents.
The most striking of the screen savers depicts a horned creature against a midnight background. Rosy fins sprout from the end of its tail, and frills climb its spine, ascending to a pair of wings. Two arms end with hundreds of worms for fingers, some longer than others. Its scales shine cobalt-blue, but not as brightly as its glaring, lidless eyes. Bared, needlelike teeth form a smile that splits its snout in half.
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Seggas follows Cha'mon through the door he opened up, silently cursing how the embri touchpads hated her long nails.
She give the computer a long look and then tries to hack in herself.
She then hands the keyboard off to Cha'mon who seems to be chomping at the bit to get into it. "You know if you want actual proton vision, I could try whipping something up. Though that level of magnification would be super impractical in daily life."
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Seggas spots a goat’s skull icon that stands out from the hundreds of tiny,
uniform desktop icons arranged in rows. The icon links to a file titled “Abysshead.” Clicking on it opens a list of 14 music tracks.
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Sturmvanger just watches all the chaos, trying his best to help while actually getting in the way of the Embri. No matter where the guards and guides move, there seems to be a tail or a wing in front of them or an arm or leg bumping into them.
"Sorry...oopss...so sorry...oh...was that your appendage? I didn't see it there."
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"Abysshead?" Morvruul says, shaking his head. "That tiresome aggrosynth band known for heavy bass riffs, complex drum licks, and--shall we say-- 'aggressive' lyrics? Would not have figured it a 'fave' among embri. Perhaps it is a red herring?"
"And most strange, it has tracks..." The witchwyrd contemplates aloud. "Abysshead albums are known to consistently have but tracks!"
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"What a complex puzzle... can we get the password out of it, or should we just download the entire album? I reckon we don't have much time before we have to skidaddle outta here."
"I am just a humble merchant with little skill in such matters, but let me see what I can do." Before he finishes his sentence, a number of the witchwyrd's arms are already at work on various inputs.
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"I prefer my genetic codes as is," Cha'mon Cha'mon again tells Seggas.
As the rest of the team gets to work, he sits back and thinks, maybe we all won't die on this mission after all.
"Morvruul, you don't seem like the type who would listen to Abysshead and by the way what's with the all the clothing covering your face? Wouldn't a merchant want to seem open and honest to his customers?"
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"Morvruul, you don't seem like the type who would listen to Abysshead and by the way what's with the all the clothing covering your face? Wouldn't a merchant want to seem open and honest to his customers?"
"I never said that I listen to Abysshead, but even we simple merchants know what sells." Morvruul replies. "As for the traditional covering of our people--it is no concern of yours. And, further, what makes you think that I don't seem both open and honest with my customers?"
Be careful with your words, Cha'mon Cha'mon, Morvruul schemes to himself. Otherwise, the universe may just find itself short a Cha'mon or TWO!
"Bwahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!" he laughs aloud.
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"I prefer my genetic codes as is," Cha'mon Cha'mon again tells Seggas.
As the rest of the team gets to work, he sits back and thinks, maybe we all won't die on this mission after all.
"But then why mention proton vision? ..." Seggas pauses for a moment and then realizes what Cha'mon had said before, her eyes widening. "OH! You already have proton vision! Damn, let me get a look at those eyes." She stares at the damai's eyes for a very long uncomfortable half a minute or so, as she scans for any tell tale signs of structures that would not normally be there. "WOW! Whoever did this did an absolutely AMAZING job! I can't even tell a difference from the normal eye structure! This is beyond stellar work. You have to tell me who worked you over, I might know their name! Was it GenThesis? Or SpliceTwice? Or perhaps one of the more designer labels? Genvoo Laudry? But anyways that must have cost more than a few credits! I can see why you don't want me in you code, I'd just ruin millions if not billions of credits of genetic work... Did you have anything else done with the eyes?"
Seggas immediately perks up at the evil laugh that Morvruul gives, but this time, slightly mentally prepared for a possible upwelling of her own laugh, Seggas clenches her fist and overrides the compulsion. She glances at Sturm as if expecting a bit of praise.
Taking a few deep breaths that almost start into a chuckle, Seggas instead just gives Morvruul a slightly-too-toothy-to-be-cute-but-not-fully-sinister smile. "You have a nice laugh there Morvruul. You'll have to tell me what precipitated it sometime."
Seggas responds to Khubelu
<Certainly, you've done more than enough. That must have been embarrassing, thank-you for being a distraction... Also before you fully form, how do you feel about a purple dermal coloration in thanks? It'd be completely temporary as the retrovirus I use to add genetic code also produces code to remove the new components.>
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"Oh, I don't know. It might just be the fact that you randomly erupt in laughter for no apparent reason. I can't read your mind, but I have a feeling the wheels are turning in there and they're turning in the wrong direction.
Looking at Seggas.
"Haven't you seen the vid movie Space War Games? It's just a line from that movie when the hacker attempts to break in to a military supercomputer because he thought it was a video game company."
He then downloads the 14th track from the Abysshead file.
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Seggas responds to Khubelu
<Certainly, you've done more than enough. That must have been embarrassing, thank-you for being a distraction... Also before you fully form, how do you feel about a purple dermal coloration in thanks? It'd be completely temporary as the retrovirus I use to add genetic code also produces code to remove the new components.>
Khubelu returns to her normal shape, turning purple at Seggas in the process.