Taban: HARE, identify that planet.

HARE (processors whirring): . . .

Taban: HARE, identify.

HARE: I’m sorry. You must undergo this unit’s activation protocols before use.

Taban: God damn it.

HARE (processors whirring): . . .

Taban: Do you have transmission features? Can you relay a message back to ISF?

HARE: I’m sorry. You must undergo this unit’s activation protocols before—

[Taban reaches over and the video cuts out.]

VIDEO LOG #2—Ship Designation CS Wyvern 7079

Day 1: 10:45 UTO

[The camera blinks on again. Taban is still in the same position. So is the HARE.]

Taban: My name is Fin Taban, of the CS Wyvern. I, uh, guess this is a mayday signal . . . Our communications system went down several days ago. Maybe five. My pilot took us out past Vier and went in the wrong direction—I think we’re in unregulated space now. There’s some planet nearby that I don’t recognize. We went through an asteroid cloud similar to the Oort and took some damage. Didn’t come out with much more than a stubbed toe on the human end, but our FTL engine, lambda drive, and comm systems are down as a result. Requesting rescue from these coordinates. Uh, ASAP. Please.

Taban (sitting back): What do you think? Did that sound good?

HARE: I am unable to answer your query at this time.

Taban: I guess it’ll have to do. Transmit to the nearest ISF frequency.

HARE (processing): I’m sorry. This unit is unable to comply.

Taban: What? Why not?

HARE (processors whirring): There are no ISF frequencies within range.

Taban: Can’t you boost your signal?

HARE: Only models past the second generation are capable of that function.

Taban: What generation are you?

HARE: First.

Taban: That’s great. That’s just wonderful. Thank you.

HARE: You are welcome.

[There’s the sound of a pneumatic door opening and closing. Taban looks at something off-screen. Another man walks into view and slouches himself into the pilot seat of the cockpit. This man is short, muscled, barrel-chested, with dark brown hair in a military buzz and heavy jowls. He looks to be in his early to mid-forties. His nametag reads CS Pilot Hap Daley.]

Daley: So did you figure out how to turn that thing on?

Taban: Uhhh, yeah. Yeah, I did. Took a while to get it set up. You really never used it the entire time you’ve been flying this ship?

Daley: Never had to. The company just pointed me at whatever they wanted me to mine and I mined it. Never needed some robot to help me explore the barren piece-of-shit asteroids I was hacking up.

Taban: Yeah. Makes sense, I guess.

Daley: So you know how to use it?

Taban: I think so.

Daley: Why’s the screen blank?

Taban: I thought it was supposed to be that way.

Daley: I don’t think so. Give it a little shake.

Taban: Are you kidding?

Daley: No.

[Taban shakes the HARE.]