Murder Drones | Asset Protection

Chapter 5 | The Lakehouse

JcJenson Transport Ship 
Grounded | 8:44:33
Copper-9

Seated around a familiar smart table, the three of us remained in silenced as the technician thoroughly inspected the data chip, looking it over for any damage or chips (heh) on it. None seem to be apparent to me, but who knows, electronics are a hell of a fragile thing.

"So you're telling me . . . that our answer to this entire clusterfuck lies in that little thing?" Finch inquires, pointing towards the data chip in Ferrar's hands.

"Should be," He responded, keeping his eye on the chip, "No visible damage on it, so we shouldn't have any complications reading whatever data it holds."

"Well, what're you waiting for then? Shouldn't we just send it to JcJenson already?" Flinch continued to push his questioning.

"We'll send it over, soon enough. But before then," He slowly places the chip in front of him, down onto the table with much care, "I'd like to see if we could get any substantial information. It would be ideal to get a head-start on our next move. Without having to wait on the analysts back home, of course."

"Alright. That sounds . . . reasonable. So let's get on with it, yeah?" Finch leans on the table.

"I'm afraid it's not as simple as that," Ferrar shakes his head before pausing, "While we may have the equipment on our ship to read the information on this ship. But unless you have a Master's Degree in computer science, I doubt we'd be able to make much out of it. It'll all be programming and such."

"Hmph, of course," Finch sighs, swinging back in his seat. Though he quickly rises back up as an idea seemingly comes to his mind, "Heeeeey, hold on. So you said that chip's supposed to be the programming for a drone, right?"

"Correct, and I do believe I understand where you're going with this line of reasoning," the technician nods, picking up the chip and placing it near the middle of the table, in hand's reach of all of us, "Cecilia, hand this over to D. Tell him to analyze it."

I nod and pick up the chip, glancing behind me and laying my eyes on our resident disassembly drone. Said disassembly drone leaning against a wall and simply observing our conversation. It grins as he hears the mention of his assistance being required, leaning back forwards and taking a step . . . Remind me why we brought this thing indoors again? 

"Hot damn, bout' time you're calling for me again," D remarked enthusiastically, holding its hand out for the chip.

I drop the chip into its hand, "Yeah, yeah. Just check it over, will you?"

"A lil' literature never hurt anyone, did it?" With the data chip in hand, it holds the small chip by his fingers. Its other hand feels for something around the back of its 'neck', maneuvering the hand and pulling on something before slotting the chip in with its other hand.

"Now let's see what we've got here-" It calls out cheerfully before suddenly pausing, "Oh- Wowee- That's . . . That's a lot of information you've got there, chief. Whew, like a LOT of information."

"No surprise," Ferrar nods along as he walks alongside the table, approaching the two of us, "It's 'supposed' to be a worker drone's model, if our assumptions are correct. Now, I take it at least some of it is familiar with you?"

"Absolutely!" D nods, "Heh, just like re-reading an old textbook again. Or well, I would assume so. Haven't seen much of this ever since I had it installed into me, all those months ago."

"You were created . . . only a few months ago?" Ferrar sat silent pondering it for a moment, "Those engineers must've worked fast retrofitting you into a disassembly drone. I wouldn't envy their work hours one bit."