The transport rides low in the cargo stream, boxed in by haulers and skimmers as dock alarms start to ripple across the lanes. Mara keeps one hand on the glowing data-pad, fighting its amber pulse.
Mara
It is still beaconing. If I can mask the key long enough, maybe the dock stops reading us.
Zoey Terraj
The key is trying to talk to the whole dock.
Ahead, a patrol sweep blossoms across the traffic lane, bright sensor beams searching through the moving cover. Zoey threads the transport between two cargo skimmers, keeping their silhouette buried in the clutter.
Mara
Zoey, if that sweep catches the pad again, every defense on Dock Nine will wake up on our exact heading.
The cockpit shudders as the navigation console flickers from amber to a hard white query. The transport is not just being tracked anymore, it is being matched against the dock's ownership grid.
Mara
There. I found the route table. This key can point us to the master control node, or it can hand us to the Inquisitor.
Zoey holds the ship inside the skimmer flow while the choice snaps into focus. To survive Dock Nine, they need the data-pad's route map before the dock's alerted defenses lock onto them again.
✓ Quest Accepted
Mask the data-pad's signal
“Zoey will dump the pad's core data into the ship's nav-computer to isolate the beacon.”
SUCCESS (Great Hacking, rolled +1)
Zoey dumps the pad’s core package into the nav-computer. The cockpit flashes as the ship starts sorting the borrowed data from the dock’s own route maps.
Mara jerks her hands back from the pad as its amber pulse collapses into a clean, pale stream across the console. The beacon is no longer wandering, it is being translated.
Zoey Terraj
It is not just a tracker. It is a routing key.
A destination stencil blooms over the nav display, hard-linked to a control node buried deeper inside Dock Nine. The ship’s ID lattice and the pad’s encryption mesh together for one sharp second.
Mara
That is the master node. If this finishes talking, the whole dock knows where we are.
Zoey keeps the transport buried in traffic while the console strips the last layer of concealment. The pad’s readout falls silent, and the dock’s search beams hesitate, losing their clean target.
On the side display, the route label resolves at last, one clear thread leading toward Dock Nine’s control spine. Behind it, the maintenance hatch alarm keeps chirping, impatient and unresolved.
Quest Complete
Mask the data-pad's signal