The lights were dim in Mavriq’s laboratory aboard the OSF-Thunderclap, one of three Apocalypse-class battleships of the Origin Stellar Fleet dispatched to monitor Derelict and associated affairs. It was a clue, oft ignored, to any who entered his domain that his mind was otherwise engaged. Reclined on a collapsible cot, conveniently built into the bulkhead, he considered the months of prior preparation for this mission even as he realized the cumulative experience of several human lifetimes was inadequate to the comprehension of what reports indicated was defunct product of alien superintelligence. 

[i]<< On approach to Maasym 4e geosynchronous orbit. >>[/i] intoned the shipwide intercom.

Mavriq stood, stretched until his shoulders popped, and drifted to the display that served as his window. In some ways, it was better than a physical aperture beyond his employment quarters, as it was readily programmable to any orientation around the ship. His long fingers danced over the interactive screen and in moments he saw the object of his mission: Maasym 4e, otherwise referred to as Derelict, at 0.73 Earth radii, glinted sanguine in the glare of Maasym’s red-tinged starlight as it emerged from orbit behind a tempestuous hyper-verge gas giant.

However well-armed the Thunderclap was, he felt rattled by the sight of the massive alien sphere and its array of towers, rifts, and surface variances. Even so, he was struck by how dead it appeared. Not a single light or indication of movement, beyond those of human origination, disrupted the tranquility of its surface. Not that it was his first sight, as first still images and shortly thereafter live footage flooded the transvacuum q-circuits within days of its discovery by the Terinhaul-Caskill Corporation’s exploratory vessel, Reind, Still, there was something different in, despite presentation on a digital screen, an observation that took place in the here and the now. As he zoomed in, soon Derelict’s orbital cloud—littered with numerous corporate habitat ships, scavenger corvettes, survey drones, and Maasym Orbital Station—sharpened to focus.

[i]“Well, it is about time,”[/i] he judged the situation.

Moments later, his lab coat stuffed with gadgets and satchel in hand, he approached the door to his lair. Suddenly, without his prompt, it opened. A swarthy, hirsute, and broad form unexpectedly loomed before him in the form of his, for all intents and purposes, nanny. While the man’s official designation placed him in the military police, Mavriq suspected he was actually an intelligence officer.

[i]“Lieutenant d’Agenais,”[/i] his military liaison, who appeared slightly winded and surprised to behold him in the midst of his departure, addressed him by his service rank, although, as a scientist, Mavriq held no authority in military matters, [i]“I expect the profiles sent to your attention for analysis in anticipation of the assembly of a ground team are in order and you’re prepared to shuttle to MOS?”[/i]

[i]“Moss?”[/i] Mavriq inquired. The man’s presence always frazzled him. As a nervous habit, his free hand unconsciously adjusted his deactivated spectral lenses. His mind, meanwhile, tried and failed to articulate the importance of the discovery of naturally-occurring flora in the region.

[i]“Maasym Orbital Station, Lieutenant,”[/i] his liaison replied, [i]“where we will interview the prospects.”[/i]

[i]“Ah, yes. Of course. Lead the way, Warrant Officer  Feurtes,”[/i] Mavriq assented.

Post-haste, they boarded a shuttle en-route to the MOS. Meanwhile, Feurtes reviewed the profiles collated by Mavriq. He claimed it was to familiarize himself with names, faces, and technical abilities, all while he babbled about minuscule details, such as the square footage Origin leased aboard MOS and converted to a secondary laboratory for non-classified affairs. It was, presumably, where Mavriq was to spend the bulk of his time, such as was expended on Derelict discounted, with his new team.