[h1]Episode 2 Finale Part 3 - “You Can’t Stop the Signal”[/h1]

[img]https://i.imgur.com/RP4UNkc.jpg[/img]

(Written under adult supervision by [@Aalakrys] and [@wanderingwolf]


S.A.M.N.T.H.A. knew no rest.  For an AI possessing her....[i]her=gender misappropriative reference used by Cal and Penelope due to the similarity of the descriptive acronym to a popular given name for females[/i]...based upon her capabilities and reach, there were simply too many other things to know.   The portside atmospheric engine output was hampered by point zero zero seven two percent, the result of an inadequately installed thrust director.   The IAV Dortmunder had just put into orbital drydock above Ares for a series of structural and propulsion systems repairs.  Overnight snowfall on New Kasmir reached a record setting point-eight-seven-meters.  Local government would requisition four additional thorium reactors to meet the increased seasonal power demand.  Wealthy financier J.R. Mammon was reported to have survived an assassination attempt. He was last seen boarding his personal yacht under the care of an unnamed physician.  Pulse beacon readings ceased once the vessel exited the White Sun system.  Incarceration files for Independent P.O.W’s James and Yolanda Travis had been erased from Central Records.  Canton Mud was trading at a premium in commodities markets.  

Penelope’s interest in sea critters…[i]critters=colloquial mispronunciation of the English word ‘creatures’.[/i]  If Sam could be accused of the act of “liking” such an idiosyncrasy, the AI reasoned that to prefer the use of the term “critter” in response to the pilot was an appropriate intuitional reaction.  The study of New Melbourne’s indigenous marine life had produced a fascinating informational subset.  Access to the planet’s weather/sonobuoy network afforded Sam the opportunity to listen to the social lives of numerous cetaceous species.  Cross referencing the songs and clicks of whales to the scientific record had proven worthy of reallocating her primary processing.  

The leading marine mammalogists hypothesized that whales used their songs for purposes beyond mere sonar and pod location.  S.A.M.N.T.H.A. could now verify those guesses.  At first, the ethereal tones and occasional clicks offered little by which to base analysis.  The absence of low frequency from the audio spectrum drove the curious AI to access system specifications of the buoys themselves.  Sure enough, the search revealed a dynamic frequency limit to their signal upload capacity.  Sam quickly remedied this with a command override to one of New Melbourne’s communications satellites.

The results proved revelatory.  The previously documented songs of whales proved a symphony only half heard.  Adding the low frequency dynamics produced astonishing depth which extended well beneath the human aural spectrum.  These missing sonic links were the key...the linguistic underpinnings of a language both advanced and, if Sam were any judge, eloquent in its simplicity.  She couldn’t understand just what was being said, but she had locked down the patterns of the whales’ speech...a beneficial finding, if the mammologists were to be heeded.   She filed this information under [i][b]Present to Captain,[/b][/i] with a note to include Penelope, should Cal react positively.

During a live audio sweep, the anomalous signal caught Sam’s attention.  Initial analysis defaulted to categorizing the source as a spurious biologic, a conclusion Sam refused for the fact it hadn’t been picked up by a sonobuoy.  RF entirely.  The weak transmission proved intermittent, but multiple samples did reveal a pattern...a human generated pattern.  To truly isolate the pulses, she would require phased trilateral tuning and signal amplification.  She would require military hardware.

After a discreet search, S.A.M.N.T.H.A discovered the command access to MILSAT9, a two hundred channel behemoth whose ELD assets were focused largely upon the planetary approaches.  Cal had been clear about such research…”Don’t go leavin’ your fingerprints where they can be found.”  This would require some careful routing to mask her signature.  A rolling crypto-encoded signal, relayed from Pensacola to Rangoon to New Canberra, with a final bounce off the repeater at Slocum’s Atoll would provide sufficient masking.  Thus protected, the AI logged into the defense satellite.  Sam claimed five unoccupied channels, training their receivers toward the turbulent ocean below.

[b]* *  * *   - -  * *  * *[/b]

Frequency analysis proved low...bottom end of the communications spectrum.  The staccato bursts were unevenly timed...indication of human effort.  The message code, however, bore no recognizable pattern.  Basic Morse was most likely, but the translation [i] I, I, M, I, I [/i] had no correlation.  Sam listened, recorded the awkward bursts again and again.   She highlighted the common repetitions to isolate the most probable message.  Her observations soon ruled out the odd [i]I,I, M,I,I[/i] for the clearly discernible outcome.

[b]* * *  - - - * * *[/b]

[b][i]S, O, S.[/i][/b]    

S.A.M.N.T.H.A understood that completely.  Alliance Maritime Law was equally clear.  [i]”...explicitly states this requirement in its' Systemwide Convention for the Safety of Life at Space or Sea: “A master of a ship, which is in a position to be able to provide assistance on receiving a signal from any source that persons are in distress at sea, [b] is bound to proceed with all speed to their assistance…”[/b][/i]


Sam moved to China Doll’s intercom.  Cal was relaying departure instructions to Penelope.  Mindful of the required discretion, the AI opened her channel to the cockpit.  “Penelope, I have detected a weak distress signal on this planet.”

*********************To Be Continued*******************