In the crawlspace’s dead quiet, Mara freezes and pulls the data-pad close. The courier tag Zoey found is still clipped to it, a plain slab of metal that suddenly looks expensive.
Mara
That is not junk. It is a high-level encryption key, the kind used for sealed Imperial transfers.
She flips the pad over. A hidden filament blooms across its edge, projecting a shipping chain, rerouted again and again through black-budget channels.
Mara
This pad was never a mere courier drop. It was riding with illegal Imperial cargo.
The twist lands hard, the tag Zoey tossed away was not bait for rebels at all. It is a trackable credential for a transport line used to move contraband under Imperial seal.
Mara
That is why the sweep team wants it back. If this key leaks, it points straight at their route, their handler, and every dock it touched.
Above them, boots scrape over the collapse. Mara kills the pad display and tucks it tight to her chest, suddenly less like a fugitive and more like someone carrying a live wire.
“"Okay, but if the imperials were using the tag to track you down, doesn't that make the credential useless? Or is there more to this pad than what you're describing?"”
SUCCESS (Good Reasoning, rolled +1)
Zoey Terraj
Okay, but if the Imperials were using the tag to track you down, doesn’t that make the credential useless? Or is there more to this pad than what you’re describing?
Mara
Useless? No. Dangerous? Very. It is not a leash, it is a key. It opens sealed transfer records, route authorizations, and the names attached to them.
Mara
If she understands what this means, maybe she understands why I cannot just drop it and run.
Mara angles the pad so Zoey can see the nested route chain, lines of cargo moving under clean labels that do not match the listed stops.
Mara
The tracker only tells them where the pad is. The credential tells them who moved the freight, where it was rerouted, and which dock clerk signed off while pretending not to see.
The strobing transmitter in Mara’s grip gives a faint, ugly pulse in the dark, like a heartbeat she does not trust.
Mara
So, no, it is not useless. It is evidence, leverage, and a list of people who will panic if we keep it.
“Zoey snorts. "Okay, gimme. I'll scramble the transponder code so that you can still use it as a key, but at least they'll stop chasing you."”
SUCCESS (Great Hacking, rolled +0)
Zoey plugs in, fingers moving fast. The key’s hidden carrier code bleeds apart on her deck, and the pad gives a soft status chirp as the transponder mask rewrites itself.
Zoey Terraj
Okay, gimme. I’ll scramble the transponder code so you can still use it as a key, but they stop chasing you.
The strobe in Mara’s grip falters, then steadies under the new false signature. The pad screen keeps its cargo chain, but the beacon no longer points cleanly back to her.
Mara
It is not clean. It is not safe. But it is better than a live trail.
A sweep of boots rumbles above them. Mara snaps the pad closer to her chest, then looks at Zoey with fresh, wary relief.
Mara
That bought us silence. For now. If they already copied the old key, they will notice the gap soon.
Below the crawlspace lip, the service tunnel stays dark and narrow, with the freight route still choking ahead toward Dock Nine. The transmitter gives one last faint pulse, then settles into a dull, obedient glow.
“"Yeah, just make sure that little pad has a slicer nearby at all times, especially if they're so desperate for it." Zoey says dubiously, thinking the pad was more trouble than it was worth. She and Mara continue to Dock 9.”
SUCCESS (Great Agility, rolled -2)
Zoey Terraj
Yeah, keep that little pad near a slicer, especially if they want it this badly.
Zoey steps into the freight-spine crawlspace first, shoulders angling low as the tunnel squeezes them into single file. The deck goes dark against her palm, its status lights dim under the false mask.
Mara
I would prefer no one touches it unless they know what they are doing.
Mara follows, one hand locked around the data-pad, the other brushing rust and grit from the wall as she ducks under a dangling cable bundle. The faint pulse from the transmitter stays obedient, almost smug.
Zoey Terraj
The pad is starting to look expensive in the bad way.
They move together through the narrow service throat. Overhead boots fade to a distant metallic murmur, and the tunnel ahead opens into a longer run marked by old freight arrows and stripped inspection plates.
Mara
Dock Nine should be beyond the next split, if the route holds.
Zoey’s boot catches on a loose coupling, scrapes sparks off the deck, and both of them freeze for a beat while the sound dies away. Nothing answers from above, but the scrape leaves their passage louder in the dark.
“"Yeah, just make sure that little pad has a slicer nearby at all times, especially if they're so desperate for it." Zoey says dubiously, thinking the pad was more trouble than it was worth. She and Mara continue to Dock 9.”
SUCCESS (Great Agility, rolled +1)