fuel on board."
No one spoke as the captain studied the ship on screen. Jellico’s thumb stroked absently at the blaster scar on his cheek, a sure sign he was thinking furiously. This was the Free Trader life: a risk versus a gamble. With no fuel at all, the salvage fees would be even higher, due to the tug’s greater fuel expenditure to match velocity.
Dane looked up at that dead ship with its blasted hull, and felt the old cramping all over again. Even though the ship was alien, its fuel, if any, would probably be usable by the Queen—the basics of fuel technology were universal, for no race, save perhaps the long-dead Forerunners, had ever cracked the secret of antigravity.
"Even if there’s fuel on board," Johan Stotz said, "do we want to risk being contaminated by whatever killed its crew?"
"If it doesn’t kill us," Kosti said, "and we do find fuel, we’ve got to have time to adapt the Queen's catalyzers and engine feeds before the Kanddoyds vaporize us—"
"With, of course, infinite regret," came Ali’s irrepressible voice.
The captain slammed his hand down flat on his console. "Let’s find out," he said suddenly. "We’re no worse off if it doesn’t. Wilcox, bring us into cable distance. Kosti, make ready the johblocks."
It took less than thirty minutes to bring the Queen up within cable distance of the strange ship and lay hold of it with the johblocks, whose atomically smooth gripping surfaces literally melded with any substance, no matter how obdurate—and there were few things more obdurate than a ship’s hull. As Dane expected, the other ship gave the johblocks no trouble, and it was soon drawn within half a kilometer of the Trader vessel.
When Wilcox finally announced zero relative velocity, Jellico said, "I want an investigation team, full biohaz suits. Maybe our luck has changed."
2
Dr. Rael Cofort pulled on the flexible gauntlets of the biohaz suit and
made sure they were fastened securely. Last came the helmet, fitting snugly over her crown of braided hair. As the helmet locked into place the suit’s air system was automatically initiated, and the soft hiss of antiseptic air cooled her cheek. A green light flickered holographically, letting her know the suit com was also alive.
A moment later Rip Shannon’s voice came over the com: "Ready, team?"
"Aye." Four voices, including hers, echoed in her ears.
"Then let’s go."
Rip Shannon had been appointed squad leader for the expedition. Rael could see his dark face inside his helmet, his black eyes characterized by good humor and the formidable intelligence which marked him out as a natural leader. Behind him loomed Dane Thorson, the tall cargo apprentice who looked like the ancient illustrations of his Viking ancestors. Next to Rael, the short, slight engine tech Jasper Weeks checked the tools at his belt one last time, then stepped into the lock, moving with the characteristic high-step shuffle of free fall.
They waited in silence as the air pressure slowly dropped.
"Half air," said Rip. "Suit check."
Rael slapped the diagnostic tab on her chest; after a moment the ready light flickered to green.
"No leaks," she reported, and was echoed by the others.
Rip tabbed the lock control and then, at zero, keyed the outer lock, which slid silently open onto the jewel-pierced blackness of space.
Their helmet lights came on as each member of the squad hooked onto the cable uniting the two ships. Rip pushed off and glided along the cable for a moment; then his suit thrusters flared and he dwindled rapidly towards the alien ship. Dane followed. Then Rael flexed her toes to demagnetize her boots and pushed off into space. At first her movement merely intensified the feeling of falling; then, as she reached a safe distance from Jasper, she ignited her thrusters and her stomach settled as acceleration gripped her. Now it felt like flying. She grinned, remembering
Weeks’s thin face, grim behind his faceplate. He hated free fall outside the safety of a ship. For her, it was a feeling of freedom that never failed to boost her spirits.
The hull of the mystery ship glowed in the light of Mykos’s primary, showing up the heavy scoring that marred the smooth fairing. Rael was not a pilot, but she knew that this ship would not be easy to land on a planet.
It was time to decelerate. She pivoted around and triggered another blast from her thrusters, then pulled herself along to join Rip and Dane.
Against the hull Rip was already working quickly, mute evidence that this investigation was a race against time. Rael heard a soft click, knew that the open communicator had switched to a two-way link so that Rip and Dane could talk to each other without flooding everyone’s head with chatter. The two men worked quickly at the ship’s outer lock. Rael watched, aware of her adrenaline-pushed heart rate. Though she felt nothing, and saw nothing, she knew they were hurtling through space at tremendous speed. Any kind of space dust could rip through their suits and kill them and they wouldn’t necessarily see it coming.
As they waited, Rael saw Jasper pat the weapon at his side, and wondered if he, like she, was also thinking of the hazards they were exposed to—only in Jasper’s case, he seemed to be worried about the very real possibility of space pirates. Not that they carried blasters, but the weapons they nicknamed sleeprods were better than nothing: the blast of sonics they emitted could temporarily scramble the nervous system of any oxygen breather.
The lock opened; they went in.
The general communicator clicked on again.
"All right, let’s do this just like we’ve drilled," Rip said.
He and Dane moved in first, scanning swiftly for anything amiss—from bodies to obvious traps. They gestured Jasper and Rael in. Rael was glad to be inside the relative safety of a hull once again. She clicked on the mags in her boots, and stepped to the decking.
The inner lock showed nothing wrong; it was clean and plain, and on
the control console green lights peacefully glowed, except for the red light indicating the lock still open to space.
Rip worked quickly at the controls, which Rael saw were arranged differently than those on the Terran ships she was used to. But they were located at the same general height, indicating use by beings about the size of humans.
Rip gave a short exclamation of satisfaction and the outer lock shut behind them. She heard the hiss of air pressure, and after a minute or so the inner lock opened. The two checked it, stepped through, and Rael and Jasper followed.
Now it was Rael’s turn. She activated the scanner clipped to her suit, and watched the ripple of the diagnostics in its display. Within a few seconds she had her readout, and looked up to report: "It’s breathable, pressure lighter than we’re used to—about the same as Terran high mountains."
The information was for the general report. They would still keep their suits intact.
"Humanoids, just as Tau predicted," Rip said, sounding interested. Then, "Let’s get going."
Moving fast, they headed for the engine deck, finding no one dead or alive on their way. Life support was still running, which indicated the ship had some power left. When they reached the engine deck and found no signs of tampering or presence, Rip nodded at Jasper, who almost dove at the complicated engineering console.
"Let’s head for the control deck," Rip suggested. They worked their way forward, still finding no sign of occupancy. When they reached the control hatch, Rip opened it and looked through. "No one here, either. Chances are there’s no one on board, then." He turned to Dane. "You check the cargo hold and hydro. Doctor, check the galley and surgery."