Bata takes the comm station and inputs an archaic communications frequency. He then manipulates the audio input stream so that it produces a seemingly random string of pitches and hums. After a few moments of this, he sits back in his chair. Now, we wait. He says, drumming his fingers together in anxiety.
The following minute drags on like hours. Perhaps it isn't even a minute, maybe only 20 or 30 seconds. Still, it feels preponderantly longer. Suddenly a deafening squawk issues forth from the comm headset Bata is wearing. He throws it off with an agitated startle and it falls to the floor. The squawk abruptly ends and then the faint sound of a voice on the other end echoes throughout the cockpit.
Issue 3-Oh-Niner-dash-five-fox-killer. Stand-by.
Oh, good, Bata says, nodding his head reassuringly, that means he'll talk to us.
Bata switches the audio to speaker and responds, Quadrant-echo-four, I copy.
Bata? the voice on the other end responds. The audio is very distorted and surrounded by static, but the voice sounds soothing, almost feminine. Never would I have imagined ****ing from you ag******ou are well I hope?
Yes, Dega, I am well enough, but I am up a creek without a paddle, Bata replies, I require your help.
Oh, Bata! the voice on the other end responds with seeming enthusiasm, I was hop*****ou'd say that. But of cour***********s something I will need in r***rn.
Bata sighs, Yes, I expected as much. Name your price, Dega.
No, no, no. That's no*******ay this works. Credits are quite useless to *****ese days. I'm going to need a fa******om you in exchange.