Moving along…
It would take at least two days for us to get — or not-get — a response. The Amalgamation apparently had a fast FTL communication network, before something destroyed it and the rest of their society. We make do with hyperdrive-equipped message drones, and when a Lifeping goes off somebody living has to actually answer it. It’s not a bad system, as soon as you accept that it’s largely for making sure that ships don’t unknowingly visit a star system that’s decided to start eating people.
What did we do while that was going on? Well, I was ‘on call;’ which sounded better than ‘held in readiness for a combat run.’ If we ended up having to do something about the Redacted, it wouldn’t be with the local cargo haulers. They weren’t armored very well and they absolutely weren’t armed. I’d have to use one of the shuttles we brought with us to the dig… after it had been quietly and suitably retrofitted.
But better mechanics than me were making sure of that, so I was taking advantage of the situation to take mild advantage of Syah. Not that he minded being taken out and plied our finest delicacies from the commissary. I gathered over dinner that the planetary net interface was being stubborn.
“There’s nothing any of us can put our finger on,” Syad said, looking tired in his lovely eyes. “The diagnostics say things are within tolerances. Not perfect, but we’re in the Tomb Worlds, right? Nothing works exactly the way it should out here.”