“Right, let’s get this thing moving,” Werd said, then turned to nod at his pilot. The pilot zipped up the shuttle and signaled to the Clarke that they were ready to depart; the Clarke started the purge cycle for the bay. Corporal Carn eased himself into the co-pilot’s seat.
“This is my first time working with a human,” Werd said, to Wilson.
“How’s it going so far?” Wilson asked.
“Not bad,” Werd said. “You’re kind of ugly, though.”
“I get that a lot,” Wilson said.
“I bet you do,” Werd said. “I won’t hold it against you.”
“Thanks,” Wilson said.
“But if you smell, I’m pushing you out an airlock,” Werd said.
“Got it,” Wilson said.
“Glad we’ve come to this understanding,” Werd said.
“The lieutenant is like this with everyone,” Corporal Carn said, looking back at Wilson. “It’s not just you.”
“It’s not my fault everyone else is hideous to look at,” Werd said. “You can’t all be gorgeous like me.”
“How do you even get through the day being as gorgeous as you are, sir?” Wilson asked.
“I really don’t know,” Werd said. “Just by being a beacon of hope and good looks, I suppose.”
“You see what I’m saying here,” Carn said.
“He’s just jealous,” Werd said. “And ugly.”
“You guys are a hoot,” Wilson said. “And here my friend Hart thought you might try to kill me.”
“Of course not,” Werd said. “We save that for the second mission.”
The shuttle backed out of the bay and headed to the Urse Damay.
“All right, who wants to tell me the weird thing about this ship?” Werd said, to no one in particular. The lieutenant’s voice came in through Wilson’s BrainPal; he, Werd and Carn were all in separate parts of the ship.
“The fact there’s not a single living thing on it?” Carn said.
“Close, but no,” Werd said.
“That’s not the weird thing?” Carn said. “If that’s not the weird thing, Lieutenant, what is?”
“The fact there’s no evidence that a single living thing was ever on it,” Wilson said.
“The human gets it,” Werd said. “This is the strangest damn thing I have ever seen.”
The three soldiers had carefully navigated themselves over to the tumbling front end of the Urse Damay. The shuttle pilot had matched the spin and rotation of the ship fragment, and the three traversed across by way of a guide line attached to a magnetic harpoon. Once they were over, the shuttle backed off to a less dangerous distance while continuing to match the tumble.
Inside, the tumble was enough to stick Wilson, Werd and Carn to the bulkheads at crazy angles to the ship’s internal layout. The three of them had to be careful when they walked; the open communication channel was occasionally punctuated by the very tall Corporal Carn cursing as he bumped into something.
The front end of the Urse Damay had been severed from its prime power source, but emergency power was still being drawn from local batteries; emergency lighting flooded the corridors with a dim but serviceable glow. The glow showed no indication that anyone had walked the corridors in the recent past. Wilson pulled open doors to living quarters, conference rooms and what appeared to be a mess hall, judging from the benches and what looked to be food preparation areas.
They were all empty and sterile.
“Is this ship programmed?” asked Carn. “Like a skip drone?”
“I saw the video replay of its battle with the Nurimal,” Werd said. “The Urse Damay was using tactics that suggest more than just programming, at least to me.”
“I agree with that,” Wilson said. “It sure looked like someone was here.”
“Maybe it’s remotely controlled,” Carn said.
“We’ve swept the local area,” Wilson said. “We didn’t find any drones or smaller ships. I’m sure Captain Fotew had the Nurimal do the same thing.”
“Then how did this ship fight with no one on it?” Carn asked.
“How do we feel about ghosts?” Werd said.
“I prefer my dead to stay dead,” Wilson said.
“The human gets it right again,” Werd said. “So we keep looking for something living on the ship.”
A few minutes later, Carn was on the open channel. He made a noise; after a second, Wilson’s BrainPal translated it to “uh.”
“What is it?” Werd asked.
“I think I found something,” Carn said.
“Is it alive?” Wilson asked.
“Maybe?” Carn said.
“Carn, you’re going to have to be more specific than that,” Werd said. Even through the translation, Wilson could hear the exasperation.
“I’m on the bridge,” Carn said. “There’s no one here. But there’s a screen that’s on.”
“All right,” Werd said. “So what?”
“So when I passed by the screen, words came up on it,” Carn said.
“What did they say?” Wilson asked.
“‘Come back,’” Carn said.
“I thought you said there was no one in the room with you,” Werd said.
“There’s not,” Carn said. “Hold on, there’s something new on the screen now. More words.”
“What’s it say this time?” Werd asked.
“‘Help me,’” Carn said.
“You said you had expertise with technology,” Werd said to Wilson, and pointed to the bridge screen, hovering at an off-kilter angle above them. “Make this thing work.”
Wilson grimaced and looked at the screen. The words on the screen were in Lalan; a visual overlay from his BrainPal translated the message. There was no keyboard or operating tool that Wilson could see. He reached up and tapped the screen; nothing. “How do you usually work your screens?” Wilson asked Werd. “Does the Conclave have some sort of standard access interface?”
“I lead people and shoot at things,” Werd said. “Access interfaces aren’t my thing.”
“We have a standard data transmission band,” Carn said. “Not the voice transmission band, but for other things.”
“Hart?” Wilson said.
“Getting that for you now,” Schmidt said, in his head.
“Look,” Carn said, pointing at the screen. “New words.”
You don’t need the data band, the words said in Lalan. I can hear you on the audio band. But I only understand the Lalan. My translation module is damaged.
“What language do you speak?” Wilson said, and ordered his BrainPal to translate in Lalan.
Easo, the words said.
Wilson queried his BrainPal, which had the language and began to unpack it. “Is that better?” he asked.
Yes, thank you, the words said.
“Who are you?” Wilson asked.
My name is Rayth Ablant.
“Are you the captain of the Urse Damay?” Wilson asked.
In a manner of speaking, yes.
“Why did you attack the Clarke and Nurimal?” Wilson asked.
I had no choice in the matter.
“Where is everyone?” asked Werd, who apparently had Easo as part of his translation database.
You mean, where is my crew.
“Yes,” Werd said.
I have none. It’s just me.
“Where are you?” Wilson asked.
That’s an interesting question, the words said.
“Are you on the ship?” Wilson asked.
I am the ship.
“I heard that correctly, right?” Carn said, after a minute. “I didn’t just get a bad translation, did I?”
“We’re asking the same question over here,” Schimdt said to Wilson, although he was the only one on the Urse Damay who could hear him.
“You are the ship,” Wilson repeated.
Yes.
“That’s not possible,” Werd said.
I wish you were right about that.