Unit of Interest
one of NT's off-book associates offer to help.
Michiel van den Bos - UNATCO
The air in central command’s medbay was cold, a sterile tang mixed with the faint, coppery smell of the dead. Sergeant Hercules rubbed his eyes, his gaze fixed on the cryo-sleeper.
The body of Tara Mason was a ruin. Scorched by vacuum, tattered by micro-meteors, and frozen solid. Her cybernetic arm and leg were locked in a final, spidery rigor. Standard revival had failed twice.
He turned to the console. “Patch me through to NanoTrasen,” he ordered the CentComm assistant. “Specialist Medical division. I don’t care what it costs.”
A moment later, a holoscreen flickered to life, resolving into the impossibly polished, smiling avatar of an NT representative.
“NanoTrasen Medical Services,” the avatar chirped, its voice like synthesized honey. “Your health is our business. How may we assist you today?”
“Sergeant Hercules, Floof Central Command,” he said, his voice flat. “I have a casualty here. One of our chief engineers was exposed to vacuum. Standard revival… won’t take.
“Of course, Sergeant. We are always happy to help our corporate partners!” the avatar said, its smile unwavering. “I just need to open a file for the patient. Name and designation, please?”
“Mason. Chief Engineer Tara Mason. Floof LLC.”
The instant he said the name, the avatar’s perfect smile froze. A sharp, digital click echoed from the speakers — not from the console but the other end of the line. The connection appeared to be terminated.
“Son of a…” Hercules began, slamming his fist on the console.
Before he could notice, the screen snapped back on. The branded blue background was gone, replaced by a flat, lifeless grey. There was no avatar, just a secure connection symbol.
A new voice spoke. It was male, flat, and had no trace of customer-service warmth. “Sergeant Hercules.”
It was not a question.
“Who is this?” Hercules demanded, his attention flicking around the room. “I was cut off from Medical.”
“Don’t worry, we are handling this file now,” the voice stated. “You have confirmed visual on the asset?”
“The asset?” Hercules bristled. “I have my Chief Engineer, Tara Mason. She’s dead. I’m trying to get her revived.”
A beat of silence, not for thought, but for processing.
“She’s actually been missing for some time,” the voice said, with the simple, unfeeling cadence of a man reading a logistics report. “It’s fortunate you’ve recovered her.”
“What the hell do you mean, missing? She’s Floof LLC.”
“A common misconception, Sergeant. And luckily, we have the tech to help recover her. We have her signature on file.”
A cold spike of adrenaline shot down Hercules’ spine. This wasn’t a medical call. This was something else. “Help her? You can bring her back for us?”
“We’ll send someone out to collect her,” the voice said, ignoring the question. “Do not move her. Do not attempt any further medical procedures. Do not scan her cybernetics. Our team is already en route to your station. They will take it from here.”
“I’m not just handing over my engineer to some spook!” Hercules snapped.
“You are,” the voice replied, not threateningly, but as a simple statement of fact. The line clicked, and the screen went black.
Sergeant Hercules stood in the silence of the medbay, the dead screen staring back at him. He had called for a doctor. He had gotten something else entirely. Reluctantly, he keyed the station’s main comms.
“Bay-Ops… prep starboard arrivals bay two for an incoming… NanoTrasen shuttle? And stand down the medical team.”