Dallas noticed Lambert's unvaried expression and knew there was at least one member of the crew who'd trade places with the science officer without hesitation.
Kane had indicated a trio of dark blotches on the hull's flank. As they climbed nearer and slightly higher in the rocks, the blotches turned into oval openings, showed depth in addition to height and width.
They finally found themselves standing just below the three pockmarks in the metal (or plastic? or what?) hull. Narrower, still darker secondary gaps showed behind the exterior ovals. Wind whipped dust and pumice in and out of the openings, a sign that the gaps had remained open for some time.
'Looks like an entrance,' Kane surmised, hands on hips as he studied the gaps. 'Maybe somebody else's idea of an airlock. You see the inner hatch openings behind these?'
'If they're locks, why three of them so close to each other?' Lambert regarded the openings with suspicion. 'And why are they all standing open?'
'Maybe the builders liked to do things in threes.' Kane shrugged. 'If we can find one, I'll let you ask him.'
'Funny boy.' She didn't smile. 'I'll buy that, but what about leaving all three open?'
'We don't know that they're open.' Dallas found himself fascinated by the smooth-lipped ovals, so different from the Nostromo's bulky, squarish lock entrances. These appeared moulded into the fabric of the hull instead of having been attached later in construction with awkward welds and seals.
'As to why they might be open, if they indeed are,' Dallas continued, 'maybe the crew wanted to get out in a hurry.'
'Why would they need three open locks to do that?'
Dallas snapped at her, irritated. 'How the hell am I supposed to know?' He added immediately after, 'Sorry. . that was uncalled for.'
'No it wasn't.' This time she did grin, slightly. 'It was a dumb question.'
'Time we got ourselves some answers.' Keeping his eyes on the ground and watching for loose rock, he started up the slight incline leading toward the openings. 'We've waited long enough. Let's move inside, if we can.'
'Might be someone's idea of a lock.' Kane studied the interior of the opening they now were entering. 'Not mine.'
Dallas was already inside. 'Surface is firm. Secondary door or hatch or whatever it was is open also.' A pause, then, 'There's a big chamber back here.'
'What about light?' Lambert fingered her own lightbar, slung at her waist opposite her pistol.
'Seems to be enough for now. Save power until we need it. Come on in.'
Kane and Lambert followed him through, down a short corridor. They emerged into a high-ceiling room. If there were controls, gauges, or any kind of instrumentation in this section of the ship they were concealed behind grey walls. Looking remarkably like the inside of a human rib cage, rounded metal ribbings braced floor, roof, and walls. Ghost light from outside danced on dust particles suspended in the nearly motionless air of the eerie chamber.
Dallas eyed his executive officer. 'What do you think?'
'I dunno. Cargo chamber, maybe? Or part of a complicated lock system? Yeah, that's it. We just passed through a double door and this here is the real lock.'
'Mighty big for just an airlock.' Lambert's voice sounded subdued in their helmets.
'Just guessing. If the inhabitants of this ship were to its scale what we are to the Nostromo, they'd likely need a lock this size. But I admit the cargo-hold idea makes more sense. Might even explain the need for three entryways.' He turned, saw Dallas leaning over a black hole in the floor.
'Hey, watch it, Dallas! No telling what might be down there, or how deep it goes.'
'The ship is standing open to the outside and nothing's taken notice of our entry. I don't think there's anything alive in here.' Dallas unclipped his lightbar, flipped it on, and directed the brilliant beam downward.
'See anything?' Lambert asked.
'Yeah.' Kane smirked. 'Like a rabbit with a watch?' He sounded almost hopeful.
'Can't see a damn thing.' Dallas moved the light slowly from one side to the other. It was a narrow beam, but powerful. It would show anything lying a modest distance below them.
'What is it?' Lambert had walked over to stand alongside him, kept a careful distance from the abyss. 'Another cargo chamber?'
'No way of telling from here. It just goes down. Smooth walls as far as my light will reach. No indication of handholds, an elevator, ladder, or any other means of descent. I can't see the bottom. Light won't reach. Must be an access shaft of some kind.' He turned off his light, moved a metre away from the hole, and began unclipping gear from his belt and backpack. He laid it out on the floor, rose, and glanced around the dimly illuminated, grey chamber.
'Whatever's downstairs will wait. Let's have a look around here first. I want to make sure there aren't any surprises. We might even find an easier way down.' He flicked his light on once more, played it over nearby walls. Despite their resemblance to a whale's insides, they remained gratifyingly motionless.
'Spread out. . but not too far. Under no circumstances walk out of unlighted view of one another. This shouldn't take more than a couple of minutes.'
Kane and Lambert activated their own lightbars. Travelling in a line, they started to explore the vast room.
Fragments of some shattered grey material lay scattered about. Much of it was buried beneath the tiny dust dunes and finely ground pumice that had invaded the ship. Kane ignored the stuff. They were hunting for something intact.
Dallas's light fell unexpectedly on a shape that was not part of wall or floor. Moving closer, he used the light to trace its outlines. It appeared to be a smallish urn or vase, tan in colour, glossy in aspect. Moving closer, he tilted his head over the jagged, broken top, shone the light inside.
Empty.
Disappointed, he walked away, wondering that something seemingly so fragile had remained relatively undisturbed while other more durable substances had apparently withered and cracked. Though for all he knew, the composition of the urn might test the melting ability of his pistol.
He was almost ready to return to the shaft in the floor when his light fell on something complex and boldly mechanical. Within the semi-organic confines of the alien ship its reassuringly functional appearance was a great relief, though the design itself was utterly unfamiliar.
'Over here!'
'Something wrong?' That was Kane.
'Not a thing. I've found a mechanism.'
Lambert and Kane rushed to join him, their boots raising little puffs of animated dust. They added their own lights to Dallas's. All seemed quiet and dead, though Dallas had the impression of patient power functioning smoothly somewhere behind those strangely contoured panels. And evidence of mechanical life was provided by the sight of a single metal bar moving steadily back and forth on its grooved track, though it made, according to suit sensors, not a sound.
'Looks like it's still functioning. Wonder how long its been running like this.' Kane examined the device, fascinated. 'Wonder what it does.'
'I can tell you that.' They turned to Lambert. She confirmed what Dallas had already guessed. She was holding her finder, the same instrument that had led them here from the Nostromo. 'It's the transmitter. Automatic distress call, just like we imagined it might be. It looks clean enough to be brand new, though it's likely been putting out that signal for years.' She shrugged. 'Maybe decades. Or longer.'
Dallas ran a small instrument over the surface of the alien device. 'Electrostatic repulsion. That explains the absence of dust. Too bad. There isn't much wind in here and the depth of the dust might give us a clue to how long the machine's been set up. It looks portable.' He turned the scanner off, slipped it back into its waist holder.