by Mark Anson
‘Sure.’ Clare waited until Collins had the green crosshairs centred exactly on the target, then punched in the sighting into the nav computer. Now they wouldn’t lose it. Collins kept on watching, trying to make out more detail. Then: ‘I can see some markings on her side … I can see the USAC letters. It’s one of ours all right.’
‘It’s the Ulysses,’ Mordecai said with certainty. ‘You can see the radiator fins on the second cluster of fuel tanks. Only a Columbus-class vessel has those.’
‘Okay.’ Clare nodded. ‘I’d say that’s a positive ident, gentlemen. They were right, then.’ Clare stared at her display screen, thinking what this would mean for her and Collins. The crew that found the Ulysses … ‘Well, we’ve found her. All we need to do now is figure out how we’re going to dock with her.’
Collins watched the ship for a moment, considering. ‘Well, the docking adapter looks free, so as long as it’s not frozen solid, we could try for a normal docking.’
‘Wait a minute – did you say the adapter’s free?’ Mordecai asked sharply.
‘I think so – oh, I see what you mean …’ his voice trailed off. The Ulysses carried a lander, but it was nowhere to be seen. ‘Maybe it’s attached to one of the side ports.’
‘No, we’d still see it,’ Mordecai said. ‘It’s too large to be obscured. The lander’s gone – it’s gone.’ He sat back, scratching his beard. Clare looked at him.
‘Do you think they put down somewhere?’
Mordecai was staring at the floor, deep in thought. He didn’t seem to have heard Clare’s question.
‘Okay, well, let’s not jump to conclusions. Send the visual contact to DSC and tell them we’re making our approach. I’ll calculate a rendezvous.’ Clare turned to the Mesa’s flight computer.
Collins sat back up from the binocular hood and opened a secure channel.
‘Deep Space Control, Interceptor three three Mesa. Have visual contact with target, confirm it is USSV Ulysses. Vessel appears intact, no power output. Commencing approach.’ He released the transmit. ‘Shall I say anything about the lander?’
‘No, let’s wait until we’re closer to be absolutely sure. It might be somewhere nearby. Send another report before we go into radio fade.’
‘Roger.’
‘I’m going to turn us round – we’ll need to brake our approach in a few minutes. We can do the rest on the thrusters.’ Clare leaned over and powered up the manoeuvring engines. ‘Can you keep an eye on the target – see if there’s any sign of damage.’
‘Sure.’ Collins turned his attention back to the binoculars. The image of the Ulysses had grown noticeably, even in this short time. There was no doubt about it now; its name and identification marks could be seen clearly. He scanned over the crew module, but it was completely dark, with no signs of life. And at the very front, he could see the empty docking adapter, where the lander should have been.
‘I can see your antenna structures at the forward end, doctor,’ he commented, ‘we’ll have to be careful not to foul any of them.’
‘Yes, they’re very fragile.’ Mordecai was concentrating once again on the approach display, but he looked ill at ease.
Clare glanced back at him, a half-smile on her face. ‘Are you worried we’ll damage your ship, doctor?’
‘No – no of course not. Do what you need to get us aboard, that’s the primary goal.’
‘We’ll be careful. But I think that ship’s days as a scientific research vessel are over.’
Mordecai said nothing, but continued to gaze at the telescope display. Clare turned back to Collins.
‘Anything from the reactor?’
‘I’ll take a look.’ Collins moved the crosshairs past the clusters of fuel tanks, all the way to the aft end of the ship and the heavy, finned canister of the nuclear engine. He clicked some buttons on the binocular mount.
‘Nothing on infra-red; it’s as cold as the rest of the ship. There’s no power output. No obvious damage though – the reactor vessel’s intact. We might be able to get it running again.’
‘Yeah. Well let’s not get our hopes up. Okay, I’m about to turn us, can you secure the telescope. Doctor, you need to strap in.’
‘Yes captain.’ Mordecai sat back and tightened his seat straps, as Collins closed the telescope aperture. It was a routine precaution during manoeuvres; there was always the risk of inadvertently pointing at the Sun and destroying the telescope’s imaging sensor.
‘Okay, everyone ready? Here we go.’ Clare held the control sidestick in her left hand, and gently eased it forwards. The ship could execute the manoeuvre itself, but she was going to have to dock manually, and she wanted to test the feel of the ship first.
The faint roar of the thrusters came through the Mesa’s hull as the ship turned slowly, end-over-end, the stars moving across the windows. The distant Sun, a fraction of the size seen from Earth, peeped in through the side windows, grazing the black bulk of Psyche. They were almost in the asteroid’s shadow.
‘How’s the radio link to Earth?’ she asked.
‘We’re still okay for a few minutes.’
‘Let me know when we’re about to enter fade.’
‘Roger.’
Clare slowed the turn, and finally stopped with the engines pointing directly at the Ulysses. She adjusted the position fractionally with the briefest of touches on the thrusters, until the ship was pointing in exactly the right direction.
‘Okay, ready for braking burn. Delta-vee is seven zero four, coming up in – sixty seconds.’
‘Seven zero four metres per second, roger. Fuel lines are pressurised.’
‘Arm for automatic firing’
‘Engines armed, on automatic. Six greens.’
There was nothing to do for the final few seconds as the ignition counted down. As the countdown passed zero, Clare, Collins and Mordecai were pushed slightly back in their seats by the thrust of the six rocket engines on the rear of the ship, slowing their forward motion.
After forty seconds, the engines cut off, and the Mesa sailed serenely through space towards the Ulysses, her closing speed reduced to ten metres per second. Collins safed the engines, and the stars wheeled across the windows for the last time as Clare turned the ship round again to face their target. They couldn’t see it yet with their eyes; it was too small and too dark, but Collins found it easily again with the telescope. It was much bigger now, lying somewhat sideways to their line of approach.
‘Still no sign of any damage. And the lander’s definitely missing; I can’t see it anywhere. No other objects on the radar.’
‘Any radiation?’
‘Nothing. I’ve got the counters on.’
‘Try hailing them.’
‘What?’ Collins looked up at her, incredulous.
‘We have to follow the protocol. Hail them.’
Collins raised his eyebrows, but selected the ship-to-ship channel and spoke into his microphone: ‘Ulysses, this is USAC Interceptor three three Mesa, come in.’ He waited a few seconds, and tried again: ‘Ulysses, this is Mesa, come in.’ He repeated the call on the deep space emergency frequency, but there was nothing, just the faint hiss of distant stars.
The Sun sank down past the mountains on the edge of Psyche, shrank to a point of light, and finally winked out. They were in the shadow of the asteroid.
Collins glanced at the antenna boresight display, showing the bright speck of Earth centred automatically in the crosshairs. It wouldn’t be long before Earth followed the Sun behind the asteroid, and the radio link would break up and fall silent. ‘Two minutes to radio fade.’
‘Transmit our intention to dock, and tell them that the lander’s missing.’
‘Roger.’ Collins thumbed the transmit. ‘Deep Space Control, Mesa. We are entering occultation zone behind Psyche. Closing on target, intend to attempt docking. No response to any hailing. Lander is missing repeat missing. Mesa, out.’
‘Okay.’ Clare exhaled. ‘We’ve told them what we’re d
oing.’ She took hold of the sidestick. ‘I’m going to bring us alongside first, and take a good look round before we try for a docking. We’re passing six kilometres now. Can you call the distance down when we’re five hundred metres away?’
‘Roger.’
The Mesa drifted closer.
The subdued chatter on the deep space channel faded, became garbled, broke up, and was gone. They were totally alone in space, out of sight and contact with Earth.
As the minutes passed, the shape of the Ulysses loomed larger. The derelict ship hung lifeless in front of them on the display screens, the monochrome display of the image intensifiers giving it a dark, forbidding look.
Clare felt a faint movement of fear inside her.
‘Flash our docking lights.’
Collins reached forwards and switched the docking lights on and off a few times, and waited, but there was no response.
‘Can you think anything else we can try, if there’s anyone left alive on her?’
‘Nope.’ Collins shook his head. ‘There’s no response. And without power, it must be a hundred and fifty below freezing in there. That’s one dead ship.’
Clare stared at the approaching vessel. The lightless windows looked back at her, like the eye sockets of a skull. Her sense of foreboding deepened, and she glanced at the approach display. The Ulysses was turning, very slowly, relative to the Mesa. She punched in the correction, and engaged the autopilot to hold the rotation rate, leaving her free to handle the approach.
‘Five hundred metres.’
Clare fired the forward thrusters for a few seconds, slowing their approach speed. She glanced up through the forward windows, but there was still nothing to see; they were in the darkness behind the asteroid.
‘Four hundred.’
Clare moved the sidestick in her hand, and the Mesa rolled slightly, so that the long form of the Ulysses was lined up sideways-on across their flight path.
‘Three hundred.’
The two ships drew closer.
‘Two hundred.’
‘Searchlights.’
Collins flicked a switch, and suddenly, out of the blackness in front of the ship’s windows, an enormous spacecraft was bearing down on them, its hull illuminated by two powerful pools of light. He resisted the urge to push himself back, to get away. Directly opposite them, the ship’s name USSV ULYSSES was clearly visible, its black lettering stark against the bare metal of the ship’s surface.
‘My God,’ Mordecai breathed behind them, ‘We really have found her.’ He seemed mesmerised by the sight of the ship, caught in their lights like some denizen of a sunless deep, and stared at it as they drew closer.
‘One hundred metres, dead slow now.’
‘Okay … I’m coming alongside.’ Clare fired the thrusters again, not taking her eyes off the approach display, letting their closing velocity ebb away to almost nothing.
‘Fifty metres.’
‘That’s close enough.’ Clare brought the Mesa to a complete halt with a short thruster burst, and set the autopilot to hold their position. She released the controls and looked out at the derelict vessel next to them. Its long, slender form, designed for deep-space exploration in the outer reaches of the Solar System, dwarfed the smaller Mesa. The ship’s distinctive, blade-like radiator fins curved out from the central fuel tank clusters, and the entire vessel seemed to be covered in antenna structures, pointing forwards and outwards like questing needles. In the darkness, it gave the ship an unearthly, sinister appearance.
For several moments, none of them said anything, just stared at the sight.
‘Well,’ Clare said eventually, ‘it’s definitely the Ulysses. Can you pan the searchlights over the hull, see if there’s any damage?’
Collins nodded, and moved the lights slowly over the enormous length of the ship, from the nuclear engine and reactor at the rear, past the two long rows of fuel tanks, to the crew module at the very front. ‘I don’t see anything. Fuel tanks intact. No sign of any hull breach.’
‘Any radiation?’
‘Nothing – it’s barely above background levels.’
‘The reactor’s been shut down for years, then.’ Clare considered her next steps. ‘Well, we’ve followed the protocol; there’s no response from the crew or any signs of life. The ship’s a derelict. I say we go for a docking.’
‘I agree.’
‘Doctor – any issues you can see?’
‘No, captain.’
‘Okay then.’ Clare took hold of the sidestick. She checked the clearances between them, and moved the ship carefully past the Ulysses, until they were clear by a hundred metres. She slowed to a halt, and then slowly turned the Mesa so that it was facing the docking adapter at the forward end of the Ulysses.
‘Bring the searchlights onto the docking adapter, will you?’
The pools of light converged on the compact form of the adapter. Collins played them over the structure, looking for any signs of damage. ‘Latches are open – looks okay.’
‘Okay. I’m lining up.’ Clare moved the ship sideways by a few metres, until it was stabilised exactly on the axis of the Ulysses, and started her approach.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The Ulysses drew closer, its ominous form picked out by the forward searchlights. The three razor-sharp spines of its forward antennas seemed to reach towards them, ready to impale them if they misjudged their approach.
‘Docking mode to manual.’ Clare’s eyes flicked between the view from the forward windows, and the radar rangefinder that counted down the metres to contact. Normally, docking between two vessels was done automatically, but the Ulysses wasn’t transmitting any approach beam for them to follow, so Clare was taking them in manually.
It had to be precise; any misalignment would result in them failing to latch on, and possibly damaging the docking mechanism. Keeping a ship this big steady and lined up accurately took great skill, and Clare’s hand moved fractionally on the sidestick, adding tiny amounts of thrust to keep them on the centreline.
‘You’re lined up,’ Collins commented. ‘A bit less speed.’
‘No, I’m going to hit it hard; those clamps have been in deep cold for years, they’re going to need a solid blow to operate them.’
Collins looked over at her, and then nodded his agreement. He reached up to check his seat straps.
‘Arm clamps.’ Clare’s eyes stared straight ahead.
‘Armed. Thirty metres. Watch those spines.’
‘Uh-huh.’
‘Twenty metres … fifteen … ten …’
In the last few moments, the Ulysses seemed to rush towards them, its antenna mounts sliding past the windows.
‘Four … two … one … contact.’ As Collins said the word, the three of them were thrown forwards in their seat straps by the impact between the two ships. The Mesa’s docking clamps thumped into the waiting receptacles. Before the ships could bounce apart, powerful hydraulic latches whined shut, pulling the ships hard together with a squeal of protest from frozen metal surfaces.
A long, low groan shuddered through the Mesa’s hull as the forces equalised, and the two ships swayed back and forth as hundreds of tonnes of fuel sloshed about in the tanks. An overstress alarm sounded briefly.
‘Hard dock – all latches engaged,’ Collins confirmed. Clare waited until the two ships finished their gyrations, and then corrected the residual movement with slight bursts of the thrusters, until they hung there, motionless in space. She breathed out in relief.
‘Okay. We’re docked with the Ulysses. That’s one objective completed.’
‘Congratulations, captain,’ Mordecai said warmly. He smiled at them both. ‘How long will it be before we can go on board?’
‘Hey, one thing at a time. We’ve got a few things to check out first,’ Clare said, unfastening her seat straps, ‘And we need to get suited up. But we’re as keen as you are to get on board – it won’t be long. I’ll pipe the video feed from the helmet cams up here so you
can see what we’re doing.’
Half an hour later, Clare and Collins were in the forward airlock, dressed in their spacesuits with their helmets on. They finished checking each other’s air supplies, and then Clare swung the inner airlock door shut behind them and closed the locking handle.
‘Right, we’re sealed off from the Mesa. Let’s see what we’ve got,’ Clare’s voice said over Collins’ helmet speakers. A small display in the top corner of his helmet showed the video feed from her helmet cam. ‘Doctor, are you getting this?’
‘Yes captain, loud and clear, and I’ve got a good view from your camera.’ Mordecai’s voice responded.
Collins studied the airlock controls for a moment.
‘No reading on anything inside the Ulysses.’
‘The sensors are probably frozen up. I suggest we hang on when we open the outer hatch, in case it’s open to vacuum in there.’
Collins nodded. Clare pulled the door handle down to release the Mesa’s forward hatch, and swung it inwards. There, framed by the yellow-and-black hydraulic latches of the docking adapter, was the outer hatch of the derelict ship. A thin film of frost formed immediately over the freezing surface. Clare reached out and wiped it off with her gloved hand, revealing the lettering underneath:
USSV ULYSSES – DXN-13
USAC NEWPORT NEWS SHIPYARDS
FEB 17, 2127
They stared at the lettering for several moments. They were the first people to set foot on board for sixteen years, and neither of them knew what they might find.
Clare glanced to her right. There was a small panel next to the hatch, and she reached across and tugged it open. She punched several of the buttons on the panel, but nothing illuminated.
‘Batteries are dead. We’ll have to open it manually.’ She took hold of the release handle in the centre of the hatch. ‘Can you hold on to me?’
Collins wrapped one arm round a handrail and another round the grab handle on Clare’s backpack. Clare braced herself across the hatch entrance, and tugged at the handle. It didn’t move.
