"Even so."
"Let's move."
The two of them walked out of the room, Orlova looking back with some satisfaction at her work, and made their way over to the crawlspace again. Before they stepped in, Orlova placed her hand on Esposito's shoulder.
"Where are we going this time?"
"Away from here. That's as far as I've got."
"We might want to do better than that."
Esposito paused, and turned, replying, "Got any ideas?"
"Right now we're going to need help, and people we can trust. That isn't really anyone on the station."
"Warren? No, they'll be watching him closely. First thing they would have expected."
Orlova walked over to a viewport, rubbing her hand across it to clear off the dust, and looked out at a long shape drifting close to the station; she pointed at it.
"The Maru. They've brought it in closer since the missile tests. Right now it can't be more than a mile away."
"I thought we already ruled out stealing a shuttle?”
"Who needs a shuttle? That's just one long jump in a spacesuit."
The espatier peered out at the shape, replying, "A very long jump. Pity I can't come up with a sane plan. Let's see if the nearest airlock has any usable suits in it."
"Bet they're a hundred years old as well."
Chapter 19
It was clear from the pilot's viewport what had happened, decades ago. A long track running in between a pair of craters, waving slightly from side to side. Marshall could almost reconstruct the crash in his mind as he brought the shuttle in for a landing. The pilot had misjudged his landing speed, or had some sort of malfunction close to the surface. In a bid to rescue it he'd extended the landing legs and activated the docking thrusters, firing them to try and arrest the landing – but when they had come down, the pilot had pulsed the thrusters one way or another to prevent the lander crashing against the crater wall, desperately attempting to preserve hull integrity before finally bouncing to a stop. From orbit, it had looked only like a minor anomaly, with a quick run-through of the flight logs from the original survey noting it as a point of interest for potential later observation, overlooked in the wake of the discovery of the alien base.
"Look over there," Caine said from the co-pilot's seat, pointing at a discoloration close to the horizon. A familiar enough pattern, the burn mark indicating the presence of a shuttle. For a second, Marshall thought that it might have been a rescue craft, but more likely it was where the scavengers who had picked up the helmet had come down. He carefully guided the shuttle down in the same spot, not wanting to cause any further damage to the scene.
"Touchdown. All engines off," Marshall said to the flight recorder. His face glum, he turned to Caine, "Let's get our spacesuits on."
Unlike the last landing he'd made, this time the passengers were anything other than eager to disembark. He looked up at the clock as he put his helmet on – still another ten minutes before he was scheduled to talk to Shakespeare again. A part of him pondered waiting in the shuttle, but there was no point delaying this any longer. He could berate that irritating lieutenant just as easily from inside his spacesuit. He looked over Caine's suit, checking for problems.
"All clear, Deadeye."
"So are you," Caine replied, her tone and expression suggesting that she felt exactly what he was feeling. While he was walking through the alien base – until the last few moments – he had felt nothing but exultation and excitement, tinged with glorious mystery. This was different. This was placing in the final piece of a puzzle that he didn't particularly want to solve, it was disturbing something that should be left alone.
The risk any spaceman ultimately ran was ending up dying along on some desolate surface, left for someone else to find in the far future. Flashing through his mind – and quickly suppressed – was the thought that his father's body was likely in a similar condition somewhere lost amid the stars. Focusing back on the task at hand, he opened the crew airlock.
The two of them stepped out onto the somehow familiar terrain; looking around the horizon. Two pairs of footprints made their way across the terrain to a pair of mounds on the horizon, one small, one larger. In between them and the small mound was a cluster of rocks, and ground that had obviously been disturbed; Marshall knew that they were graves before he reached them. Three rectangular shapes in the ground, two of them marked with helmets, with a space were obviously until recently one had rested.
Vivandi and Cunningham had stepped out of the passenger compartment now, the former carrying the old helmet underneath her arm. Marshall gestured at them, and they slowly bounded over – no use of thrusters this time, lest they disturbed the ground. The distance was short enough that they could do it in short hops in any case.
"Looks like we're found the helmet's resting place, in any case," Vivandi said.
Marshall shook his head, "Grave robbers. Bastards. Pass me the helmet."
Caine was squatting down by the graves, "Look like identity tags marking the grave. They've obviously recently been disturbed – want me to leave them?"
Pondering for a moment as he took the helmet, Marshall replied, "No, that's a bit different. If we know who they were we might be able to track down their families and tell them where their ancestors are buried."
"Xiaohai, Colonel; Zizhong, Major; Gulin, Major," she read out, taking quick pictures of the three tags before returning them to their place.
"Rest in peace, gentlemen," Marshall said, gently placing the helmet in its position, making sure to line it up to hide the fact that it had been moved as best he could. He looked over at the smaller mound, and waved towards it.
Cunningham looked down at the bodies, standing over the graves, muttering something inaudible to himself; Caine moved over to him, tapping him on the shoulder in a bid to attract his attention.
"You coming?"
"In a minute, Deadeye. In a minute."
Marshall looked over at him, "You wait here for a moment by the shuttle. The rest of us should check out the other mounds."
"One of them presumably the lander," Caine said.
"Yeah. Smaller one at a bet."
"What about the other one?" Vivandi asked.
"Probably that was what they were coming down to find. It looks like a smaller version of the ones near the pole; might be another alien site. In which case I'd like to see if its worth disturbing this site further."
"It needs investigating, Captain," Vivandi said.
Cunningham broke in, "It'll be months before you scratch the surface at the polar complex. No need to disturb the dead any further, Captain. We've done what we came here to do."
"We finish the job, Lieutenant, then hopefully no-one else will want to come this way for another century or so."
The group headed over towards the smaller mound, following the footprints almost pace for pace across the rocky surface. There was a flash of red in the mound, on the far side from the shuttle; what looked to be a faded piece of cloth in front the mound at the rear, most of its color lost long ago. Underneath it was a small airlock, obviously recently disturbed, partly open. Marshall dug his fingers in and gave a quick experimental tug, only to be knocked flying when it opened. He stumbled on the ground, trying to regain his balance.
"Must have been set just to slide open. All electronic systems disengaged," Caine said.
"They'd have run out of power a long time ago," Vivandi replied.
Marshall took a look inside, and saw exactly what he had expected to see – a figure in a spacesuit sitting on a couch in the middle of a small room, barely big enough to fit four people and some samples. The lander had obviously been ransacked – compartments all opened, spare parts bins taken out. Anything that could be moved easily had been taken. Waving his hand over the identity patch on the spacesuit, he took a picture as the translator kicked in. He gasped briefly as he looked through the helmet; the body had long since decomposed, leaving a bare skull inside.
"Sen
ior Colonel Rongsen," he read out, quickly recovering. "This capsule isn't large enough to support a crew for longer than a few days. My guess is that when they smashed up, they spent a few days trying to see if there was anything they could do, then the orbiter headed back to Earth leaving the rest of the crew here. The commander stayed alive long enough to give his crew a proper burial, then turned off his oxygen supply."
"Must have been longer," Caine said. "Or they wouldn't have bothered digging themselves in."
"They didn't," Vivandi said. "This has only been done recently. Within a month or two, I think. Someone made an attempt to hide this site from easy detection, make it look a bit like one of the alien mounds."
"Why? It wouldn't last for long."
Cunningham said, "Long enough. If we hadn't been looking for it, would we have seen any of this on our first pass here? We'd have spent all our time at the polar complex, and left the rest of the moon for a follow-up crew."
"Probably right at that," Caine replied.
"If I ever find the bastards that did this...", Marshall said.
Vivandi replied, "In the very-long-term, it'll keep the capsule intact for millions of years longer, Captain. They may have done them a favor. Some day an alien race that hasn't yet evolved to intelligence will be here, and they will learn of our people through the heroism of this crew."
Marshall paused at that for a moment, nodding, "That's quite a way of looking at things, Doctor."
"I have to sleep at night too, Captain."
A signal beeped in Marshall's helmet, and he stepped out of the capsule to improve his reception. Vivandi ducked her head into the capsule to take some photographs of the inside, in the probably futile hope that later analysis might provide some idea of what had been stolen from the site.
"Marshall here. Go ahead."
"Dietz here, Captain. The hour has passed; you asked to be notified. I have arranged a relay from your suit to Shakespeare Station, ready on your command."
"Thank you, Lieutenant. I'd better get this over with; make sure everything is properly recorded. Patch it through to Cunningham and Caine as well."
"Aye, sir." There was a brief pause. "Putting you through now, Captain. Current time lag is five seconds."
"Shakespeare Station, this is Captain Marshall. Please connect me with either Ensign Esposito or Sub-Lieutenant Orlova."
"Danny, I'm afraid we can't do that." Warren's voice echoed through Marshall's helmet.
"Teddy, what the hell is going on out there?"
"Corporal Gomez, the head of station security, has been found murdered, and I'm afraid Esposito and Orlova are the two prime suspects. Both of them were seeing fleeing the crime scene. I've been helping with the investigation, but they are both still at large."
"That is absolutely ridiculous, Teddy. Neither of the officers involved would possibly commit such an act. Not with out a damn good reason. Is there any sign that it was self-defense, or something like that?"
"Lieutenant Tokubai here, Captain, cutting in." Marshall inwardly groaned. "There is no sign of anything that would indicate anything other than premeditated murder. Both of them are armed, and I have security teams looking for them now with orders to bring them in."
"Implying that you consider them dangerous. Where is Akimoto?"
"I regret, sir, that the Lieutenant-Major is still unavailable at this time."
"Put me through to Lieutenant Warren, right this moment. And take yourself off the line."
"Sir, this is highly irregular."
"Do it or face court-martial. I mean it." Marshall's voice was low with barely restrained anger.
Warren's voice came through again, "I'm on, Danny. And Tokubai is on the other side of the room."
"I want both of them back alive, Teddy. None of this guns-blazing nonsense. Where the hell is Akimoto?"
"I wish I knew, Danny," he replied. "I don't think they did it either, but I'm all alone out here, and they're barely tolerating me. I even tried to go down to Akimoto's quarters, but there's a guard on the door."
Marshall paused for a moment, before saying, "Let's shake things up a bit. Assume command."
"Danny, Tokubai has three months' seniority over me."
"Mr. Dietz, are you listening?"
Dietz replied, "Yes, sir."
"Under our brand new field service regulations, am I empowered to grant brevet promotions?"
"Such a promotion would have to be confirmed by senior command; in this case Commodore Tramiel."
"And until confirmation came through?"
Dietz paused for a moment before replying, "The promotion would be assumed to be in effect until countermanded by higher authority."
"At our current distance from Mariner Station, that gives us about five hours. Which hopefully will be enough. Lieutenant Warren, by my authority you are brevetted to the rank of Senior Lieutenant until further notice; you are directed by my authority as senior officer in-system to assume command of Shakespeare Station pending relief by Lieutenant-Major Akimoto."
"Danny, are you sure about this?"
"I'm hoping that it gets Akimoto up and about. I want Tokubai out of a position of authority, and I want Orlova and Esposito secured. Ideally on a shuttle back to Alamo; and if it comes to it, feel free to be on board yourself."
Cunningham broke in, "We can be at Shakespeare Station ourselves in thirty-seven hours at best speed, Captain."
"Not with that frigate coming in."
"Captain, we have two pilots in trouble out there. We can't leave them."
Taking a deep breath, Marshall replied, "You aren't. I am. I don't want to, Lieutenant, but I have no choice."
"But..."
"Clear the line, Mr. Cunningham. Senior Lieutenant Warren, you have your orders. I know I'm asking a lot of you."
Warren sighed, "Same as always, Danny. One man mission behind enemy lines and all that. Don't worry, I've armed myself. After all, there are dangerous criminals about. I'll contact you every half-hour, keep you up to date. And if Akimoto crops up, I'll get in touch with you immediately."
"Right. Good luck, Teddy. Alamo out."
Caine broke in on a private circuit, "Was that wise, Danny?"
"Probably not. But I don't think we've got much choice. I'm hoping that this all proves to be nothing other than an unfortunate misunderstanding, but..."
She interrupted, "It isn't as if we haven't had recent experience of the Republic trying a trick like this. Agreed. It's a hell of a risk for Teddy, though."
"He knows that. At least it should flush things out into the open." Switching back to public mode, Marshall said, "Let's check out the bigger mound. Got your pictures, Doctor?"
"While you were throwing out random promotions. Can I have one?"
"I already made you Chief Troublemaker. Seal the airlock and let's get going."
"Already done."
He smiled a little as they made their way around the lander towards the other mound; Vivandi might be annoying, but she was at least braking his bad mood a bit. The mound looked similar to the one he had explored the day before, and memories of that incident began to flash into his mind, causing him to hesitate a little; Vivandi and Cunningham began to creep ahead.
"Let us take point, Captain," Vivandi said. "I can understand you being reluctant to peek into the face of the unknown again so soon."
"I'm fine. Let's push on."
It took a great effort for him to take the remaining steps to the mound. The footprints curved around the side to an entrance buried in the rock, a perfect octagon. Just as he was about to plant a rope and descend into the darkness, he received another transmission from Alamo, this one marked urgent.
"Don't go in the mound, Captain," Dietz said, coming as close as Marshall had ever heard him to alarmed.
"What is it, Lieutenant?"
"There was an anomaly in the message from the station. It took us a few minutes to get a handle on it, but it looks as if Sub-Lieutenant Orlova has managed to insert a hidde
n signal into the transmission. Not long, just a short burst."
"Read it, Dietz!"
"High levels of station command including Tokubai compromised. Security Chief Gomez murdered; Orlova and Esposito innocent and being framed. Evidence of previous expedition to Desdemona – helmet. One prospector returned to Earth insane due to alien exposure. Going to ground until Alamo returns. Request assistance at earliest opportunity, understand enemy frigate has priority."
"One prospector insane?"
"I presume that the site you are approaching has similar properties to the one you uncovered at the polar complex, Captain. I recommend we send in an automatic probe after you return to Alamo."
"Good idea. We'll head back now. Transmit that message back to the station immediately, attention of Acting Senior Lieutenant Warren. Send it in the clear, I want it broadcast so everyone can hear it. And appraise Mariner of our situation."
"Aye, sir. Alamo out."
Vivandi looked reluctant, but Marshall put a hand on her shoulder, turning her around as he began to head back for the shuttle. Caine was ahead of him, not needing much of an excuse to avoid facing the same shock as before, and Cunningham was still looking out at the ruined lander.
"Caine, I'd like you to ride in the passenger compartment for the ride up the Alamo. Mr. Cunningham, I'd like you to take the co-pilot's seat."
It seemed like a short walk back, probably because they were all glad to be heading back to the ship. There was an oppressive feeling about this place, and the addition of another alien grave to this site only made those feelings stronger. Marshall gratefully bounded into the crew compartment followed by Cunningham. He pulled off his spacesuit before sitting in the pilot's seat, flicking a series of switches to turn the shuttlecraft over to automatic control, setting it to fly itself back up to Alamo. With a faint touch of thruster, the shuttle began its ascent, the lift so gentle that he couldn't detect any difference between the minuscule gravity of Desdemona and the upward thrust. Before they were fully clear of the surface, Cunningham turned to him.
"We should head back for Shakespeare right now, Captain. Those pilots have top priority, especially now."
Fermi's War Page 16
