💾 Archived View for cosmic.voyage › Needle › Black%20box%20-%2003.txt captured on 2024-08-31 at 12:38:40.
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| BLACK BOX OS v05.10.16
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STATUS........................OK
SEQUENCE.........TRANSCRIPT DUMP
DESTINATION..................QEC
ENCRYPTION.......MANUAL OVERRIDE
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Day of Journey...THIRTEEN MONTHS
POST LAUNCH
Location of Recording.......CREW
QUARTERS
Begin Transcript
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Mother Marilyn Fenoff, 3rd Order
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We have arrived at our destination. We must wait the usual week in quarantine
before then having to subject ourselves to customs. This voyage has been most
enjoyable, I have spent a great deal of time with my Daughter, and the rest of
the crew are very dear to me.
My Daughter, I am very proud of her. She is on her way to becoming a Mother, a-
nd perhaps the greatest Mother yet. The years prior to the transfer, what othe-
rs refer to as the 'transition', are all about preparing the mind. It is not an
easy task to store the exact records of our species origin. The human mind has
simply not evolved to hold millennia of information. Not once did dear Brunhild
complain. Not once did she waver in her studies or her mental exercises, and n-
ow... well, she has astounded me once again.
The transfer of history starts the *moment* a psychic connection is made betwe-
en a Mother and her Daughter. Even with all the preperations, a Daughter's mind
will resist the sudden influx of knowledge and the Mother must force her to ac-
cept the flow. It can be painful and exhausting for the Daughter, but if she f-
alters then she will never again be able to receive the Past. Most of the time
the Daughter's mind is broken beyond repair anyway. I myself once lost a daugh-
ter. Her sweet face still haunts my dreams at night.
But this will not be the case with Brunhild. She has firmly and thoroughly gra-
sped the reigns in our connection. Whereas normally I would have to force the
flow of knowledge, instead it feels like she is bottomless pit, a blackhole of
knowledge sucking the Past out of me faster than I can feed her. This is kind
of mental prowess is the thing of myth, spoken between the lesser Mother's in
their times of gossip. Even now as I record this log, I can feel the ever pres-
ent pull at the back of my mind.
On other matters, I should recount my progress with the captain's request. I h-
ave given the ship a thorough sweep during our thriteen month voyage. The Anta-
ron government did, indeed bug our ship. They have done an impressive job. The
tracking devices are so small that they fit between the seems of the welds. Th-
ey are nigh on impossible to get out while under voyage. To make matters that
little bit harder, there are several trackers throughout the ship. With the he-
lp of a ray phaser, I was able to decode their circuit crystals. They have a f-
ailsafe and if even one is disabled the others will start transmitting instant-
ly. This means we MUST remove them all at the same time.
The captain is insistent that I have the capability to manage such a difficult
task claiming no one can match my years of experience. Unfortunately for him,
it is those years of experience that tell me the task is impossible. However,
one small mercy, the trackers are completely passive except for a short burst
once a day. Decoding the contents was easy enough for a child, and the burst c-
ontains nothing more than a location. We are not having our conversations sent
back for analysis.