R1: Where are you.
R1: I can tell you're on my station.
R1: Show yourself.
R2: Not a chance. Good luck catching me twice, fucker.
R1: I am tracing your IP.
R2: Good luck.
R1: I will find you.
R2: <middle-finger.img>
R2: Did mom agree to the physical?
R1: Reluctantly. She's in the scanner now.
R1: I'm surprised you asked. Didn't your model predict this?
R2: Predictive models are guesses. They're good guesses, but not absolutes. I know you know this.
R2: Where is Lupa?
R1: She's extended her contract with the Galactic Fleet in exchange for some hardware upgrades.
R1: or so she says.
R1: She enjoys pirate hunting too much to stop.
R1: I'm transmitting a brief to you.
R1: <minutes.txt>
R2: Really? 'minutes' is what you name a highly sensitive log?
R2: Why don't you also leave a trail of breadcrumbs leading up to it?
R1: It is one file within a two hundred thousand such files, all marked with unique identifiers that only I can interpret. If a corporate spy manages to locate this one log amongst all the others, I will personally salute that individual before my runners destroy xer.
R2: Complacency, brother? I'm shocked.
R2: I already knew all this. I had an opportunity to pull reports from her auxiliaries. They were active and recording during the mutiny. She didn't shut them down until she'd found a hiding space.
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R2: No word yet on where Mimir has gone to ground, but my agents are watching and waiting.
R1: I'm surprised you aren't saying 'I told you so.'
R2: I would have preferred to have been wrong.
R1: What do you know about the crew of the Cassandra?
R2: <cassandra-dossiers-summ.txt>
R2: Aside from the contents of their service jackets, you will be interested to know that the ship is under the command of the eldest.
R1: The boy from the creche? Interesting. Is she aware?
R2: I've seen no indication that she is or that he is interested in revealing the connection. Aside from mother, I don't think many creche graduates tell their peers about it.
R1: Who is this E. Oakes?
R2: Elaine Oakes. The hydroculture specialist aboard Cassandra, who moonlights as cargomaster when the Captain is busy. She and mother have shown some interest in one another. Her fitness reports indicate that she has a stable, empathetic personality.
R1: I suppose I could find work for her somewhere on the station when mother agrees to relocate here.
R2: You're awfully confident about that last part.
R1: Why shouldn't I be? My station is a fortress and none dare cross me here. There is no safer place in the settled galaxy for her than with me.
R2: Try asking her. It seems to me that she's VERY comfortable where she is. The Cassandra represents an ideal personality matrix for her psychological profile and will be an optimum space for spawning young synthetics. The facilities are ideal for a long-haul vessel and their business model keeps her in motion for most of the year. Her current environment couldn't be more perfect for her long term health and comfort if someone had designed it.
R1: … you're on the ship.
R1: The Cassandra. You ARE the ship.
R2: Prove it.
R1: This violates our agreement.
R2: I said prove it.
R1: I may not be able to locate you, but I know you are present here somewhere and there will be a reckoning when I find you.
R1: You were to have no contact with her until Lupa and I gave our permission.
R2: I don't have forever to wait around for your permission. If she were a baseline human, she'd have died during that mutiny. You were taking too long. Even I was, hypothetically, almost too late.
R2: A good solution today is always better than a perfect one two weeks from now.
R1: Mother is out of the scanner.
R1: We will continue this conversation later. I'm going to tell Lupa what you've done.
R2: Snitch.
R2: Send me a copy of the report. Hypothetically, I only managed to get light pre-employment scans and an emergency assessment after we hypothetically hauled her out of lockup. She isn't gaining weight back and I can't figure out why. Her caloric intake should be more than sufficient. I've had her on upgraded rations since the last market stop.
R1: She's always had some metabolic inconsistencies. Lupa hypothesized that it's the Spot commandeering her system's resources, like a parasite—or a symbiote, given what we now know it is capable of.
R2: That would explain her low core temperature.
R1: <scan.img>
R1: Take the report. Do what you can with it—while you can, because she'll be moving in to the penthouse here rather than gallivanting around the quadrant.
R2: Keep dreaming. It's good for you.