“I tend to agree, but I made the mistake of asking for volunteers.”
“In that case,” Cohanna leaned back behind her desk in sickbay, a thousand kilometers from Command One, and rubbed her forehead, “we might as well let them board.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“Of course I’m not!” she snapped, and Colin’s hand rose in quick apology.
“Sorry, ’Hanna. What I really wanted was a run-down on your reasoning.”
“It hasn’t changed.” Her almost normal tone was an unstated acceptance of his apology. “The other bases are as dead as Keerah, but there are at least two live hydroponics farms aboard that hulk—how I don’t know, after all this time—and there may be more; we can’t tell from exterior bio-scans even at this range. But that thing’s entire atmosphere must’ve circulated through both of them a couple of million times by now and the plants are still alive. It’s possible they represent a mutant strain that happened to be immune to whatever killed everything on Keerah, but I doubt it. Whatever the agent was, it doesn’t seem to have missed anything down there, so I think it’s unlikely it ever contaminated the battle station.” She shrugged.
“I know that’s a mouthful of qualifiers, but it’s all I can tell you.”
“But there’s no other sign of life,” Colin said quietly.
“None.” Cohanna’s holographic face was grim. “There couldn’t be, unless they were in stasis. Genetic drift would’ve seen to that long ago on something as small as that.”
“All right,” Colin said after a moment. “Thank you.” He looked down at his hands an instant longer, then nodded to himself.
“Dahak, give me a direct link to Vlad.”
“Link open, Captain.”
“Vlad?”
“Yes, Captain?” There was no holo image—Chernikov’s bare-bones utility boat had strictly limited com facilities—but his calm voice was right beside Colin’s ear.
“I’m going to let you take a closer look, Vlad, but watch your ass. One man goes in first—and not you, Mister. Full bio-protection and total decon before he comes back aboard, too.”
“With all respect, Captain, I think—”
“I know what you think,” Colin said harshly. “The answer is no.”
“Very well.” Chernikov sounded resigned, and Colin sympathized. He would vastly have preferred to take the risk himself, but he was Dahak’s captain. He couldn’t gamble with the chain of command … and neither could Vlad.
Vlad Chernikov looked at the engineer he had selected for the task. Jehru Chandra had come many light-years to risk his life, but he looked eager as he double-checked the seals on his suit. Not cheerful or unafraid, but eager.
“Be cautious in there, Jehru.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Keep your suit scanners open. We will relay to Dahak.”
“I understand, sir.” Chernikov grinned wryly at Chandra’s manifestly patient reply. Did he really sound that nervous?
“On your way, then,” he said, and the engineer stepped into the airlock.
As per Cohanna’s insistence, there was no contact between Chernikov’s workboat and the battle station, but Chernikov studied the looming hull yet again as Chandra floated across the kilometer-wide gap on his suit propulsors. This ancient structure was thousands of years younger than Dahak, but the warship had been hidden under eighty kilometers of solid rock for most of its vast lifespan. The battle station had not. The once bright battle steel was dulled by the film of dust which had collected on its age-sick surface and pitted by micro-meteor impacts, and its condition made Chernikov chillingly aware of its age as Dahak’s shining perfection never had.
Chandra touched down neatly beside a small personnel lock, and his implants probed at the controls.
“Hmmmmm…” The tension in his voice was smoothed by concentration. “Dahak was right, Commander. I’ve got live computers here, but damned if I recognize the machine language. Whups! Wait a minute, I’ve got something—”
His voice broke off for an agonizing moment, then came back with a most unexpected sound: a chuckle.
“I’ll be damned, sir. The thing recognized my effort to access and brought in some kind of translating software. The hatch’s opening now.”
He stepped through it and it closed once more.
“Pressure in the lock,” he reported, his fold-space com working as well through battle steel as through vacuum. “On the low side—’bout point-six-nine atmospheres. My sensors read breathable.”
“Forget it right now, Jehru.”
“Never even considered it, sir. Honest. Okay, inner lock opening now.” There was a brief pause. “I’m in. Inner hatch closed. The main lighting’s out, but about half the emergency lights’re up.”
“Is the main net live, or just the lock computers?”
“Looks like the auxiliary net’s up. Just a sec. Yes, sir. Power level’s weak, though. Can’t find the main net, yet.”
“Understood. Give me a reading on the auxiliary. Then I want you to head up-ship. Keep an eye out for …”
Colin rested in his couch, eyes closed, concentrating on his neural feed as Chandra penetrated the half-dead hulk, gaining in confidence with every meter. It showed even in the technicalities of his conversation with Vlad.
Colin only hoped they could ever dare to let him come home again.
”…and that’s about the size of it,” Cohanna said, deactivating her personal memo computer. “We hit Chandra’s suit with every decon system we had. As near as Dahak and I can tell, it was a hundred percent sterile before we let him unsuit, but we’ve got him in total isolation. I think he’s clean, but I’m not letting him out of there until I’m certain.”
“Agreed. Dahak? Anything to add?”
“I am still conversing with Omega Three’s core computers, Captain. More precisely, I am attempting to converse with them. We do not speak the same language, and their data transmission speed is appreciably higher than my own. Unfortunately, they also appear to be quite stupid.” Colin hid a smile at the peeved note in Dahak’s voice. Among the human qualities the vast computer had internalized was one he no doubt wished he could have avoided: impatience.
“How stupid?” he asked after a moment.
“Extremely so. In fairness, they were never intended for even rudimentary self-awareness, and their age is also a factor. Omega Three’s self-repair capability was never up to Fleet standards, and it has suffered progressive failure, largely, I suspect, through lack of spares. Approximately forty percent of Omega Three’s data net is inoperable. The main computers remain more nearly functional than the auxiliary systems, but there are failures in the core programming itself. In human terms, they are senile.”
“I see. Are you getting anything at all?”
“Affirmative, sir. In fact, I am now prepared to provide a hypothetical reconstruction of events leading to Omega Three’s emplacement.”
“You are?” Colin sat straighter, and others at the table did the same.
“Affirmative. Be advised, however, that much of it is speculative. There are serious gaps in the available data.”
“Understood. Let’s hear it.”
“Acknowledged. In essence, sir, Fleet Captain (Biosciences) Cohanna was correct in her original hypothesis at Defram. The destruction of all life on the planets we have so far encountered was due to a bio-weapon.”
“What kind of bio-weapon?” Cohanna demanded, leaning forward as if to will the answer out of the computer.
“Unknown at this time. It was the belief of the system governor, however, that it was of Imperial origin.”
“Sweet Jesu,” Jiltanith breathed. “In so much at least wert thou correct, my Hector. ’Twas no enemy wreaked their destruction; ’twas themselves.”