◬ (
tetractys) wrote in
driftfleet2016-08-04 10:13 pm
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Entry tags:
enigma variations
Who: Bill Cipher
Broadcast: First to the SS Golden, then to the rest of the fleet after a few days
Action: Aboard the Golden
When: Wednesday - Friday
[Action:]
[There's a distinct smell of smoke when the comms fry, on the Golden, and a horrible electronic whine just barely within the high range of human hearing. The ship blinks off of fleet radar. Fifteen seconds go by, and the system fails to reboot itself. Thirty seconds. Sixty.
By the time any of the rest of the crew can come investigate, a bespectacled man with his sleeves rolled up is elbow-deep in the comm array, a small flashlight between his teeth. He hasn't been around the ship before, no one will recognize him. The ship's had all the equipment associated with a Communications officer for a month now, it's just that nobody's touched it, or even showed up to claim the title. So maybe this is the guy making an appearance, finally? Then again, it's a little weird that he's never come out of his cabin for meals, if he's been here that long.
The man waves over anyone who gets close and pulls the flashlight out of his mouth to hand it to them, if they'll accept it.]
Hi. Hold this, will you?
[Text, to the Crew of the Golden.]
[It's a few hours of tinkering before this message appears. Bits of the communications array have been tossed haphazardly around the entire surrounding area. Try not to step on anything breakable or sharp?]
The good news is that I found the problem! The bad news is that it's going to take the rest of the night to fix. It's good and cooked in here! I'd say the router is about medium-rare! Bring me some protien sauce to put on it and check back tomorrow morning.
The other bad news is that this was sabotage! But the other good news is that I've got a plan! I wrote an executable for you guys to all run on your communicators so that we're all on the same page when I can get the system running again.
Attachment: sysupdate.exe
Just type this in like you would if you were sending a regular message. Don't make any typos or we'll be isolated in the unforgiving depths of space for another six hours while I try to find out what you did wrong. Ha ha! :)
[What Bill isn't mentioning is that this little bit of code has nothing to do with fixing the ship and everything to do with remotely scripting any communicator it's run on.]
[Audio, fleetwide.]
[It's thirty-six hours into the rebuild when the systems suddenly click back on in a burst of static and feedback. Muffled, triumphant cackling is audible down the entire main corridor of the Golden. The ship comes back into radar detection. On the communicator network, an unfamiliar male voice crackles to life. Anyone who's heard Bill's real voice in a dream won't recognize this one - he's borrowing it from a friend.]
Hellooooo, fleet! This is a systems test, the SS Golden hailing any other satellites that can recieve. Please respond if I'm getting through to you! I've got some pret-ty interesting news about what just put us into a blackout.
[Text. Double-encrypted; Private-locked to self only.]
THAT SURE WAS A DUMB MISTAKE YOU JUST MADE. FORTUNATELY, I'M A GENEROUS GUY. I CAN SMOOTH ALL OF THIS OVER AND MAKE SURE YOU CAN STILL COLLECT WHATEVER IT IS YOU NEEDED. I WON'T TELL THE OTHER SHIPS HOW TO CORRECTLY UNHOOK YOUR LITTLE DOODADS, AND THINGS WILL GO BACK TO NORMAL FOR YOU. ALL I WANT IS TO GET IN ON WHAT YOU KNOW. LET'S BE A TEAM!
I WANT ACCESS TO PRIVATE FILTERED COMMUNICATIONS, FLEET-WIDE. I'M GOING TO GIVE YOU 24 HOURS TO THINK ABOUT IT. IF I GET MY PRICE BY THEN, I'LL ASSUME WE HAVE A DEAL. IF THERE'S NO CHANGE BY THEN, WELL - YOU WOULDN'T HAVE PUT THIS ON MY SHIP UNLESS WE HAD SOMETHING YOU WANTED! AND IF I DON'T GET WHAT I WANT, NO ONE DOES.
◬
[(FQ PBBJP XQOLJX EXP X CLB, XK FKQBOZBMQLO PQFII RKKXJBA
F'SB PELTK JV ZXOA IBQ'P EXSB PLJB CRK
QEBOB KLT XOB QEOBB PFABP FK QEFP DXJB)]
((Want your character with a Commuications augment to be able to catch and decode that last message? PM or hit me up on Plurk, I'm totally down for that!))
Broadcast: First to the SS Golden, then to the rest of the fleet after a few days
Action: Aboard the Golden
When: Wednesday - Friday
[Action:]
[There's a distinct smell of smoke when the comms fry, on the Golden, and a horrible electronic whine just barely within the high range of human hearing. The ship blinks off of fleet radar. Fifteen seconds go by, and the system fails to reboot itself. Thirty seconds. Sixty.
By the time any of the rest of the crew can come investigate, a bespectacled man with his sleeves rolled up is elbow-deep in the comm array, a small flashlight between his teeth. He hasn't been around the ship before, no one will recognize him. The ship's had all the equipment associated with a Communications officer for a month now, it's just that nobody's touched it, or even showed up to claim the title. So maybe this is the guy making an appearance, finally? Then again, it's a little weird that he's never come out of his cabin for meals, if he's been here that long.
The man waves over anyone who gets close and pulls the flashlight out of his mouth to hand it to them, if they'll accept it.]
Hi. Hold this, will you?
[Text, to the Crew of the Golden.]
[It's a few hours of tinkering before this message appears. Bits of the communications array have been tossed haphazardly around the entire surrounding area. Try not to step on anything breakable or sharp?]
The good news is that I found the problem! The bad news is that it's going to take the rest of the night to fix. It's good and cooked in here! I'd say the router is about medium-rare! Bring me some protien sauce to put on it and check back tomorrow morning.
The other bad news is that this was sabotage! But the other good news is that I've got a plan! I wrote an executable for you guys to all run on your communicators so that we're all on the same page when I can get the system running again.
Attachment: sysupdate.exe
Just type this in like you would if you were sending a regular message. Don't make any typos or we'll be isolated in the unforgiving depths of space for another six hours while I try to find out what you did wrong. Ha ha! :)
[What Bill isn't mentioning is that this little bit of code has nothing to do with fixing the ship and everything to do with remotely scripting any communicator it's run on.]
[Audio, fleetwide.]
[It's thirty-six hours into the rebuild when the systems suddenly click back on in a burst of static and feedback. Muffled, triumphant cackling is audible down the entire main corridor of the Golden. The ship comes back into radar detection. On the communicator network, an unfamiliar male voice crackles to life. Anyone who's heard Bill's real voice in a dream won't recognize this one - he's borrowing it from a friend.]
Hellooooo, fleet! This is a systems test, the SS Golden hailing any other satellites that can recieve. Please respond if I'm getting through to you! I've got some pret-ty interesting news about what just put us into a blackout.
[Text. Double-encrypted; Private-locked to self only.]
THAT SURE WAS A DUMB MISTAKE YOU JUST MADE. FORTUNATELY, I'M A GENEROUS GUY. I CAN SMOOTH ALL OF THIS OVER AND MAKE SURE YOU CAN STILL COLLECT WHATEVER IT IS YOU NEEDED. I WON'T TELL THE OTHER SHIPS HOW TO CORRECTLY UNHOOK YOUR LITTLE DOODADS, AND THINGS WILL GO BACK TO NORMAL FOR YOU. ALL I WANT IS TO GET IN ON WHAT YOU KNOW. LET'S BE A TEAM!
I WANT ACCESS TO PRIVATE FILTERED COMMUNICATIONS, FLEET-WIDE. I'M GOING TO GIVE YOU 24 HOURS TO THINK ABOUT IT. IF I GET MY PRICE BY THEN, I'LL ASSUME WE HAVE A DEAL. IF THERE'S NO CHANGE BY THEN, WELL - YOU WOULDN'T HAVE PUT THIS ON MY SHIP UNLESS WE HAD SOMETHING YOU WANTED! AND IF I DON'T GET WHAT I WANT, NO ONE DOES.
◬
[(FQ PBBJP XQOLJX EXP X CLB, XK FKQBOZBMQLO PQFII RKKXJBA
F'SB PELTK JV ZXOA IBQ'P EXSB PLJB CRK
QEBOB KLT XOB QEOBB PFABP FK QEFP DXJB)]
((Want your character with a Commuications augment to be able to catch and decode that last message? PM or hit me up on Plurk, I'm totally down for that!))
ok! :D
[The man's hair is Very Fluffed now, as if he's been driving his hands through it all day and smeared a ton of ash and metal shavings in there in the process. Oops.]
You didn't see anyone interfere with this console, did you? This should not have been in there. I'm your technical support, not your babysitter, don't put things into the machines.
no subject
[ it's a spot where a name would go for reassuring emphasis. but she doesn't have one to use for him. ]
Sorry, I don't believe we've met before. I've only been here a few weeks.
no subject
[He turns away from the device, finally, and pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose to get a better look at her.
(Now, Bill knows perfectly well who Barriss is. Jedi, academic, idealistic, politically restless. Has something to prove, allows the perfect to be the enemy of the good.
More information is always needed, though. For instance: she didn't correct the Captain about those clearly not being freckles, but how far does her patience go?)]
Oh. You aren't human. What are these-?
[He reaches a grubby six-fingered hand out to prod at Barriss' tattoos, as if to try and smudge them.
(The more he can ruin Stanford's reputation here the better.)]
no subject
[ that is exactly as far as her patience goes, right to her personal space. still, she seems to realize that sounded rude as soon as it's out of her mouth and so she recoils, taking a full step back and putting a hastily apologetic face on. ]
Sorry, Doctor, I- They're ceremonial tattoos. In mirialan culture, they signify my achievements and capabilities as a Force user.
no subject
[No apology.]
How do you tell which marks are for which?
[If he can't touch, he's gonna crane his neck around and look at her face from a couple of angles.]
no subject
[ the order she was introducing herself as a member of when she first arrived. not any more, though. thankfully her tattoos are much more about her connection to the force than they are to the jedi, so she's only filled with minimal self loathing when she catches her reflection in the mirror. ]
The rest of the patterning on my face was influenced by my mentor and her own choices in markings, added as I aged and eventually became her apprentice.
[ both hands come up this time, held so that he can see the pattern on the backs of them. they're not hidden usually, but if she's talking about this, she might as well make them clear to see: four diamonds arranged in the shape of a larger one, like the prominent shape under each eye. ] These, I added when I decided that I wanted to be a Healer. I was talented at healing for my age and knew that I would have many studies and trials still ahead of me, but these marks would serve as a reminder of what I wanted for my future, what I wanted my hands to be capable of.
no subject
(It's something he has in common with the man whose face he's borrowing, but he doesn't think too hard about that beyond noting that it's convenient.)]
Huh! How old were you when you had to decide that?
no subject
[ and even though she doesn't quite look twenty yet, she's clearly been through a whole lot since then. ]
no subject
[This tone is totally different from the gruff, serious one that he'd opened the conversation with. He's grinning ear-to-ear, his head turned around at an uncomfortable-looking angle.]
no subject
Many Jedi decide on their paths young. The Force guides us in our decision making and we find it easier not to go against that. Besides, if you grow up thinking that you have a purpose and have the ability to impact your environment somehow, I think you're probably more like to do it.
no subject
no subject
no subject
Oh, you're probably right. Not everyone finds out that what they were working towards was all a lie like I did.
[He sighs. Something audibly snaps on the piece he's been prying at.]
Damn it all.
no subject
[ it's almost like she has some experience and an opinion on that. still, when she pauses, it's to lean forward and look at the mess he's been working on. ]
Do you want me to take a look? I'm no engineer, but I do know the basics of technology at home. Maybe this is similar.
no subject
The bug was really, really buried. If the radar wasn't already fried, taking it apart this much would have disabled it anyway.]
no subject
How long have you been with the fleet, anyway?
no subject
[Bill frowns, as if he's debating something.]
What about you?
no subject
Yeah, sorry, it's nothing like a starfighter or a lightsaber. I'll leave it to you.
no subject
[He hesitates, then lowers his voice.]
I can tell you, I think this was the work of a plant. I don't know who yet, but it would be difficult to get into this ship for the necessary amount of time to plant a communications bug without living here.
no subject
I haven't noticed anyone particularly suspect among the crew, but I suppose someone might be an exceptional liar... But why? Never mind. Possible motives aside, do you think anyone else aboard would be capable of this, even given time to tinker?
no subject
[but augments don't always match talents.]
...But in practice, I haven't been able to speak to most of them yet about what they may have been skilled in before arriving.