“Transmitter,” said Kohl.
“A what?”
“Trans. Mitt. Er,” said Kohl. “A fucking transmitter. I’m no expert, but I’d say it’s the mirror fucking image of what we’ve got in the Tyche.”
“They’ve got the same kind of transmitter as what we’re carrying?” said Nate.
“I’d bet my completion bonus,” said Kohl, “on it being the same model. Made in the same factory. Probably the same guy tightened the last bolts on it. Same one, Cap.” There was a pause. “I got a good look at the one in our hold. Because, you know, it was heavy, and my job is lifting heavy shit.”
Nate did a slow circle, looking at the dead crew. Because they were brain dead, bodies just soaking up oxygen at this point. “Why,” he said, “do you suppose that would be?” But what he was thinking of was what Grace said: Everyone on it is dead already.
“No clue,” said Kohl. “It’s a fucking mystery.”
“Great,” said Nate. He keyed his comm controls. “Hope. El. You there? El, record, please.”
“Tyche here,” said El. “Recording.”
“I’m here too,” said Hope.
“I’m authorizing us to begin lawful salvage of the Helium-class freighter Ravana, found drifting with no survivors. My Engineer will strip the fusion reactor from this ship as is our right under Republic salvage charter laws. End recording.” Nate paused. “You get that?”
“I got it,” said El.
“What do you mean, ’no survivors?’” said Hope.
“Grace was right,” said Nate. “Everyone’s dead. Now get to work. You’ve got less than three days.”
CHAPTER NINE
“So what you’re saying,” said El, “is that Hope’ll be traumatized by seeing a bunch of already-dead people, and I’m not.”
“That’s what I’m saying,” said Nate, looking over his shoulder at her as he led her deeper into the Ravana. “Hope’s a kid, El. You’ve done your time on a ship.” His feet clanked over the bridge plating.
“I’ve done my time on a bridge,” said El. You know, this ship is clean. Too clean. Navy clean. “I’ve done my time in space. I’ve not done my time in the field…” Her words trailed off as the door to the ready room cycled, slid sideways, revealing the acceleration couches.
The bodies.
“Are they,” she said, “dead?”
“May as well be,” said Nate. “They’re gone, El.”
She rubbed her hands against her flight suit, mouth dry. “I’m … not okay with this.”
“With what?” he said.
“Spacing them,” she said. “I’m not okay—”
“Oh, hell,” he said. “No. No, you’re not here for that. I need you to talk to the Ravana. Find out where she’s been. Where’s she’s going. I need to find out what the fuck they were doing.” He did a slow turn, taking in the bodies. “Because they were running, El. From something, or to something.”
“You want me to do that with them staring at me?” El pointed at a woman, head lolling sideways, eyes open. It was like the body was looking at El, saying, I see you. “Their damn eyes are open.”
“Lights are on, no one’s home,” said Kohl’s rumble from behind her. She turned, letting the big man through. “Cap. Want me to fire these out the airlock?”
Nate winced at that. “I … guess.” He frowned. “Kohl? I need you to tag ’em.”
“What the fuck for?” he said. “There’s not likely to be a bounty in here. This ship’s too clean for a rough crew.”
“They’ll have families,” said El.
“Might,” said Kohl, in a tone that said so what.
“Families might want to know what happened to their kin,” said Nate. It always helped to have the captain at your back when talking to Kohl. Not because Nate was bigger or tougher than Kohl. It was that Kohl responded to money, and his source of money was the captain. Whatever works.
“Might,” said Kohl, again, his face turning sour. “You sure this comes into the category of ’lifting heavy things?’”
“Pretty sure,” said Nate. “Chop chop, Kohl.” He thought for a minute. “Oh, hey. Can you start on the flight deck?”
“I can,” said Kohl, shrugging inside his armor. That thing looked heavy to El, like a space suit that had merged with some kind of military personnel carrier. Plates everywhere, mounts on the back for God knows what. He nodded to her as he clanked past towards the flight deck.
“El,” said Nate. “They—”
“They broke the buffer limits,” said El.
“I think,” said Nate, “that they were coming from the same place we’re going.”
“That doesn’t sound peachy,” said El. Kohl emerged from the flight deck, a body over his shoulder like a sack. He walked past her with another nod — that shit’ll get old, fast — and down the gangway. Towards the cargo bay, and it’s larger airlock. “You want to abort?”
“What?” said Nate. “Hell no.”
No, I suppose not. You’re no Kohl, but you’ve never backed down from a fight while I’ve been watching. It’s why we’ve got a kid Engineer who’s a criminal. It’s why you put up with Kohl. Sometimes I figure I’m the only lawful citizen on this ship. “So … why?”
“Information,” said Nate, “gives us options.”
“It doesn’t really,” said Grace, from the doorway. El took her in — pale face, drawn with the same stress they were all feeling. No sword, because why. It was a stupid weapon to own. A good blaster would solve problems at a more comfortable distance. Faster, too. She had no suit either; El figured her to be of a similar mind to herself on that point at least: not expecting the Ravana to breach, blowing them all into space. “It will tell us what we already know.”
“Huh,” said Nate. “Assessor? I’ve got something for you to assess.” He gave a quick glance to El. “Get to it.”
They walked out, and El looked towards the flight deck. She could see the corner of an acceleration couch through the doorway, the legs of whomever was there in view. Not moving. She sighed. They’re dead, El. The dead can’t hurt anyone.
Still. It’d be nice if they weren’t all staring. She moved into the flight deck, found the chair Kohl had emptied for her. Sat, felt the still-warm of it, and shuddered. Someone had been here two minutes ago. Or someone’s body; the someone had left during their last jump.
“Okay, Ravana. Let’s see if you talk pretty.” She powered up the console, cleared the warnings. The holo in the air flickered, vanished. She started typing. “Where have you been, girl?”
“Hell and back,” said Kohl. He wasn’t even breathing hard. He unclipped another body, shouldering it.
“Don’t … Kohl? You don’t need to nod at me every time we pass each other.” El sighed. “This isn’t a bar.”
“I got some whisky,” he said. “We could make our own party.”
“Not ever,” she said. It was an old refrain. Kohl liked her. She didn’t like him. End of story.
“Suit yourself,” he said. “It’s just, you know. Hope’s…”
“Too young?” offered El.
“Too into other women,” said Kohl. “Found that well dry already.”
“She might just be too into higher life forms,” said El.
“Nah, that wasn’t it,” said Kohl. “She was specific. Like she was trying not to hurt my feelings.” He laughed. “I don’t know. It’s a numbers game. Try often enough with enough people, it’ll eventually work out. I was wondering, though. What if she met the right man..?”