The science labs on the O.R.C.A were split in two - one room which was encountered upon entering from the ship’s main corridor and the second which could only be accessed after stepping through a door at the very back and moving down a narrow hallway. 

The first room, deemed ‘medbay’ or ‘medical’, was brightly lit and consisted mainly of white and chrome, with each bed made in a unique color. The sterility would have been reminiscent of Bridgers’ ship if the signs of age and wear weren’t quite so visible. 

The second room at the end of the hall, where Olaan resided along with a select few others, was mainly dark - illuminated predominantly by large floor-to-ceiling length tubes filled with various gelatinous substances. The one closest to Olaan’s workspace gave off a dim green light which reminded ceir of Opranov in the morning, though of course the similarities ended there. Mornings on Opranov were significantly more pleasant.

“Hey, Olaan. What’s your take?” 

For one there had been no loud mouthed co-workers with silly names like Sawyer attempting to cajole ceir into conversation on Opranov. 

It was an apparent facet of Humanity which Olaan didn’t understand; the desire to speak to anyone and everyone in depth. On Opranov, co rarely carried on conversations with anyone outside of ceir selected few. It was considered rude to be an aggressive conversationalist.

Ignoring Sawyer’s attempt at conversing, Olaan crossed over from ceir station to one of the machines that were monitoring the vortex. Co had made several adjustments to the machine buried furthest into the shadows and now considered it ceir own. Luckily, despite being overly aggressive in several areas, the management of the O.R.C.A was far less stringent than the Arbutus’ had been - allowing Olaan to do as co pleased for the most part.

“Quiet as ever, huh? I like a strong silent type. Though I don’t know if that’s even true about Novians - the strength I mean,” Sawyer said, chuckling as he tapped the barrel of his weapon. 

Though he was head of defense for the ship, Sawyer was a frequent visitor to the labs. The man was always working on something at a desk which had to be propped up by a book to keep from tilting on its lopsided legs.

“Stop bothering them,” someone else said. Anlyuck. Olaan didn’t turn to look at her. She was a Forlarite who often attempted to include ceir in conversations despite Olaan’s obvious disinterest. Everyone besides her and Sawyer had already given up, and Sawyer’s interest was…a strange brand of jovial mocking. Irritating in the extreme.

“Pearl doesn’t call Olaan ‘them’ - it’s something else. It’s…uh…” Sawyer cursed, gesturing the barrel of a dismantled firearm towards ceir. “This’d be a lot easier if you’d talk to us once in a while!”

Olaan continued to ignore the conversation, modulating the scanning frequency on the machine and squinting at the manual co had open on ceir station at all times.

Though co typically had free reign to do whatever co wished aboard the O.R.C.A there were times when co was called upon to assist in whatever was most important to the ship and its crew. The vortex which had nearly destroyed the Teretiwelligan ship was apparently of interest. The repair team had noted several oddities regarding the damage pattern - oddities which the lab was tasked with explaining.

“Come on, leave Olaan be…” Anlyuck pleaded again. 

“Alright, alright. You make me sound like I’m bullying the poor thing. Just trying to be friendly…” Sawyer said, trailing off. This silence unfortunately didn’t last long. “Speaking of friendly, did you see Hakeem with those two Teryajitwilickers earlier? A girl on each arm, literally!”

“Jealous?” Anlyuck teased.

Sawyer’s voice took on a false passion as he began to plead. “Oh please God, let the next ship we pull out of a vortex be full of handsome men…and no pacifists please.”

“This is why people think you’re bullying them.”

“I’m docile as a kitten, honest.”

Olaan tuned out the rest of their chatter, focusing on ceir work.

Because Novians were an isolationist people, most assumed they had very little interest in the universe at large. That was true in some respects. Olaan’s people were not explorers, they did not desire to sail amongst the stars, and they did not long for the company of countless, unfamiliar, others. The last point was what fueled most of their research and advancement.

In order to fulfill a desire to be left alone, one must know when they had company.

The readings of the vortex seemed to be stable. It was large. Large enough to pull a ship through but Olaan doubted it would destroy one were it piloted skillfully. 

At the O.R.C.A’s current distance it was impossible to tell if there was anything lurking behind the vortex or where it led. Olaan glanced at the manual then pulled up any information the probe had been able to gather. Only one had been sent out initially but since the Kragorian connection had been made, another, more detailed model, had been sent.

Olaan read through the data slowly, having to consult with the manual after nearly every line. Co was unused to the language and measurements the probe used, U-Lang standard, which Opranov did not resemble in the slightest. Still, determined not to be seen as a burden as well as a recluse, Olaan did ceir best to translate and then re-translate ceir findings.

The vortex was indeed stable. Most vortexes acted as holes in the fabric of the universe - frayed at the edges as any tear would be. The larger a vortex was, the more unstable it became, as a general rule. However, the readings both probes had gathered reported that the Vortex was ‘smooth’ all the way through. Less a tear and more…

Olaan stood immediately, turning and rushing toward the other two who appeared to be carrying on a convivial racket instead of working.

“Put me through to the captain,” co demanded, coming to a stop beside Anlyuck’s station. Apparently Olaan’s approach had been fast enough to startle her as she yelped, rocketing backwards in her chair.

“What’s up?” Sawyer asked, pausing the polishing of a new weapon.

“The-” Anlyuck caught her breath, creeping forward. “The captain’s currently in a meeting, so-”

“The vortex wasn’t naturally occurring,” Olaan said, interrupting her.

Sawyer frowned. “What?” 

Anlyuck, an actual scientist, seemed to catch on quicker. Though instead of calling the captain her eyes widened and her mouth went unappealingly slack, revealing rows of short, sharp teeth. “You’re saying-?”

The vortex had been smooth and steady all the way through. Not an accidental or natural tear, but a hole cut precisely via instrument. 

“It was created purposefully,” Olaan confirmed. “The captain must be alerted that the so-called vortex is…I believe the term is ‘man-made’.”