Most planets transmit any applicable laws to a ship during the transponder 'handshake'. This is to avoid smugglers trying to smuggle something to the planet; if they know ahead of time what the penalty is for getting caught, they are less likely to try it... they'll just turn and go the other way.
Invermory's laws are fairly standard. No weapons carried in public unless you have the proper credentials or permits, such as law enforcement. This includes knives with a blade longer than 2", stunners, truncheons. Tasers are legal. Brass knuckles are legal to own and carry but illegal to use except in self-defense against overwhelming odds.
Once you reach the flip point, you could begin searching public news feeds for face recognition of the frozen body, but only certain officials can access the starport cameras to do that. Sharik might be able to gain access, but it's a new system for her, so it'd be a bit tricky. Walter could probably gain access as well.
The news feeds don't turn up any hits on the face. The guy may have done a good job staying off the cameras or simply wasn't at any place where news was happening.
Veronika can speed read through the whole book without getting bored. However, she then has to process the text to 'translate' it into understandable Anglic. It could take an hour, perhaps more.
By the ten hour mark, the body has defrosted enough to work on it some. Other than gaining the blood type (JX-131), not much can be determined yet. His hands are a bit calloused, as if he worked with his hands fairly frequently.
Searching the planet's archives, using fingerprints, blood type and face recognition software produces a hit with an 97% chance of accuracy. The body is that of Kamra Losk. He was classified as a Dis (disenfranchised)... something like an itinerant wanderer or gypsy. He claimed to be an Ascendor.
The Ascendors were a group of cultists that believed that they could ascend to a higher plane of existence.
The Way of Ascension is a book that details the Ascendors. They were a cross somewhere between a cult and a religion, with a bit of a society thrown in for good measure. They built a number of hexagonal-shaped buildings intended as a refuge for the comfort and safety of distressed spacefarers throughout the Reaver’s Deep sector. They died out about 40 years ago.
Just about then, Veronika finishes here translation. She doesn't have a Writing program, so even her synopsis is rather dry and stilted.
quote:
Departing Rob Roy, a task force with a cargo of pharmaceuticals for Duncinae.
Four ships in all… three scouts escorting a transport.
Impossible Dream was a remade subsidized merchant, fitted with long range tanks.
One scout, the Diligence, was a mobilized half-pay courier with a crew of three.
Another, the Winged Victory, was a sleek new ship with a freshly minted crew.
The last, Silver Dagger, was a ringer; a courier with a crew of malice and mold.
The route we took was circuitous, intended to avoid Pirates of the dark.
A few times, the group even jumped to deep space and then again to a world beyond.
I fell sick at Hoffman and laid in bunk through weeks of suffering.
When I recovered, we were slipping out of jump space to refuel at a world below.
It was safer to refuel from an ocean; fewer pirates would be there, if they were anywhere.
And there we still met disaster—as we came in, an ion storm from the star flared even faster.
The Impossible Dream was forced to land, and it landed badly.
The other ships scattered across many kilometers, with only the traitors near.
Winged Victory crashed, and Diligence went to its aid. In that time, the blackguards made their move.
When Diligence reappeared with Winged Victory’s crew aboard, Impossible Dream was under fire from Silver Dagger.
The battle ensued, for hours.
Ultimately, the battle was too intense, and Diligence landed behind a hill, damaged.
Silver Dagger had further crippled Impossible Dream and was killing her.
However, the hero crew had a plan.
While Gyro drew the traitor’s fire (already doing so admirably),
The crew of Winged Victory dragged four missiles to the hilltop,
And the crew of Diligence maneuvered around the crags.
In coordinated action, they blasted the traitors and saved their comrades.
One traitor survived and recounted their story.
They were imposters, with a hijacked scout and false identities.
They had sabotaged the transport and were in it for the black-market money.
He died as he spoke, painfully and slowly.
Surveying the results, the crews found that nothing would now fly.
Not Gyro, not Diligence, not Silver Dagger.
Certainly not Winged Victory, lying 100 leagues afar.
We were marooned on a planet around a distant star.
A ray of hope emerged amid the gloom of the darkening sky.
Salvaging parts from some ships could make at least one of them fly.
Parts from Silver Dagger, from Impossible Dream, even from Winged Victory could make Diligence fly again.
They mounted an expedition to Winged Victory, overland, covering 600 kilometers.
They first installed a crew in Impossible Dream to guard it; the rest trekked overland 600 klicks.
One died along the way.
Another died on the way bac.
But they carried some part back. Not enough.
The Gyro crew computer-predicted a long, bad, winter season.
Not enough time to make another trip. They had to hole up.
Together they had glimpsed a structure momentarily along the way.
On a high peak, viewed in twilight, it promised shelter.
Trekking to it, they found a tall trylon built of fine-hewn stones.
High on a crag in a valley.
Moving the fusion heat and crates of rations to it, they settled in for winter.
Snow and ice hemmed them in.
Water was easy to get, melted from the snow.
Therions growled at the doors, and even at the windows from atop the drifted snow.
But they survived, even killing the therions and eating them for food.
Almost, on the edge, one by one, they went crazy. Tempers flared.
Still the therions beat at the doors and windows, calming tempers with fear.
Once, snow on the roof threatened to collapse it.
But they shoveled it away to save their lives and patched the holes.
Late in the winter, the therions attacked again, and the group retreated,
Leaving the second floor to therions streaming in through the shattered panes.
They blocked the shaft of the fireplace and held them off for a while.
They moved the fusion heater to hold them back, and discovered the passage leading down.
Two floors stood below; large hexagonal rooms with buttresses at the six corners.
They hid there at night, trusting to stone to protect them from therions.
On the lowest floor, they found mystic writing, to a base number eight.
And a central altar with human bones.
Magically, a passage down appeared, with stairs leading to the bowels of the world.
They followed the stairs down.
Down countless flights of stairs, past rooms of mystery, finally to a well of running water.
Past that well to a long corridor, to another level, to a huge vault door.
As they stood, a quake shook the chamber; as they cowered, the door swung open,
To reveal a magic bridge of light across a vast underground river cavern.
Beyond stood a warren of rooms of silver and gold, each different, each with fantastic artifacts.
Leaning against the wall, a hidden switch was apparently tripped.
And suddenly the floor glowed orange.
One person lost a finger-tip when he touched it.
Another hidden switch was tripped—and holographic visions of food appeared as mirages to
Tantalize the famished crews.
One gave in to temptation and clawed his way into the vision.
Whereupon it materialized, as real meat, real fruit, and real drink.
Other rooms held null-g sleeping berths, areas with mystic columns for no apparent purpose,
Or fabulous crystal eggs larger than six people.
In the farthest back room, a huge globe of the world stood and revolved in real time.
It responded to their touch, and (by looking close) they could see where they had landed.
They stayed in the rooms, warm and away from the therions and cold of the surface, for days.
But nowhere was there anything to carry away, nor to help in their plight.
They turned back, only to find the magic bridge of light gone and the vault door closed.
They rigged ropes and sling and swung four of their six across before the bridge clicked on again,
To allow the remaining two to just walk across the chasm.
As they did, the bridge turned red, and turned off again just as the last stepped off it.
As they sighed relief, the vault door swung open and they left hurriedly.
Many times, they came back, but never again did the door open.
In spring, they mounted another expedition to the crashed Winged Victory, and salvaged parts.
They fixed Diligence enough to jump, and three were chosen to make the voyage.
It jumped and stuttered through the system and finally made a single hop.
And came out in a place worse than they’d left.
A battle raged in the system, and as the ships fought,
The Diligence hid, hoping its side would win.
One torpedo from the fighting never hit a target, and streamed on alone
Until it caught Diligence in its sensors and moved closer,
Exploding to blank the scout’s screens and disable its drives.
Without drives, the ship could not maneuver, and no one heard its calls for help.
The belligerents left, first one side retreating, then the other pursuing.
Left alone, the scout and its heroic crew settled into the vacuous night and died.
....and far away.