Beta Arslashn stood from the acceleration bed and yawned, stretching all muscles from the tip of his nose to the tuft at the end of the lion’s tail. He consulted his MainComputer and started digesting the report.
HHSS Heaven’s Whiskers was still several hours away from exiting the starlane and entering her destination, 431 Caton. All systems read nominal. The primary nuclear reactor was at maximum output providing enough power for a ship mid-jump as designed. Plasma fusion secondary was cold and ready to ignite when needed, fuel rods full, with a couple of spares in the rod locker. Tertiary solar farm disassembled, with the pieces stowed inside a dedicated hold. Arslashn hoped Caton would have a star handy, otherwise his energy budget would be limited and without the power-hungry Ion Drive, so would be fuel.
Heatsinks were mostly empty, radiator fins working at half of their rated output, as intended during Waveform Tunnel jumps. D-field at standard jump-load. The annoying vibration of the jump drive the lion noticed during ship's short shakedown cruise didn’t return. Primary Bi-Phase Linear Drive and Secondary Ion Drive were off with the last diagnostic proclaiming them fully operational. Gyros and RCS ready for maneuvers. Reaction Mass Bunkers topped off just before the jump, still precious little for the years to come.
Life support reported green across the board and culture tanks were about ready for the first harvest The lion nodded in contentment, that was one way to doom the entire mission before it even began. He started pacing slowly around his small living space aboard the Whiskers. It was truly tiny, just a few lengths across,but enough space for his bed,an exercise treadmill, a refresher and a food dispenser. Even if Arslashn understood the logic, it still felt like a cage. Even if the lion could just see through the ship’s sensors and move it like his own body, twenty years of this was going to be torture. Unfortunately the lion was under direct orders not to modify anything unless in an emergency or to repair damage.
Sensors showed the usual hash of jump space and the recorders were still on standby. There was no previous jump data, so the MainComputer couldn’t confirm they were still on course. It was complaining about this fact much to the Avatar’s amusement. Exploratory vessels like HHSS Heaven’s Whiskers were uniquely capable of returning safely from a jump mishap. With Gravimetric Satellites and sensitive sensors to conduct the survey and, even more importantly, the extended stores and bunkers to survive the decades the task would take, charting a way home was the exact mission they were built to do.
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Weapons were all powered down, but basic self-checks showed no changes since the last test. Three twin laser turrets and the single railgun were there more to discourage opportunists and blast away colliders than to give a serious fighting chance. Ditto the sparse PDLCs, though under Arslashn’s control they still provided missile defence unmatched by any non-NAI or non-fedtech ship of similar size. Just outside the living cabin, by the lion’s single computronic module and the data banks sat a single AM Scuttling Charge, A final solution in case Whiskers was to be taken.
Abandoning his pacing Arslashn stopped by the dispenser, breakfast was in order. A HND drone undocked itself from its port under the ceiling to assist the young Beta NAI with the manual task. He grimaced. Opposable thumbs were a little too complicated to add to his lion body and he had other priorities at the time as well. The drone deposited Arslashn’s meal, a bowl of nondescript ‘nutritionally efficient’ goop, before him and started grooming the lion, it’s special-made brush going through pale mint fur and through Arslashn’s proud mane, all teal with indigo streaks like the tuft on his tail. He didn’t understand why Mother didn’t approve of his form - he even made himself able to purr! Sadly this mission, important as it was, was meant as an exile.
NAIs were not usually sent to map the jump lanes in new systems. Initially, a standard human survey team was sent into 431 Caton, on a typical exploration vessel, HHSS Eternal Vigil. But they didn’t return. A mobile outpost with a village’s worth of crew and dependents gone, dead most likely. That happened sometimes and the Survey Corps didn’t like to send followup missions, calling it bad luck. Not without reason, many dangers could make a system just too deadly to survive until leaving was even possible. On the other hand it could have been just bad luck, critical equipment failure or isolation madness. Now Arslashn, in a much smaller, less equipped, more expendable vessel, was sent to find out for sure. Joy.
The lion reflected on his orders from Mother. Most were reasonable, but some he found perplexing. “Destroy anything or anyone not of the Republic”, “After finishing your task leave a copy of your maps in the system via a datacache sat, return and await further instructions”, “do not initiate contact nor respond to hails”, “if at any moment you are not a direct subordinate of Phi Doggeria, detonate the scuttling charge”, “Do not conduct any mining or salvage operations”. The last one made him check his repair systems again. Fabrication unit ready, Smelter cold, the energy hog useful only for recycling under the circumstances, feedstock hopper full and standard spare parts package in the hold. Workdrones on charging ports in the bay, waiting to be deployed. Should be enough. Unless something happens.
Beta Arslashn sighed, then licked the last remains of breakfast goop off his muzzle. He checked the jump timer. Time enough to warm up the guns, do last diagnostics and charge all the capacitors. Just in case.