Derelict: Tomb (Derelict Saga Book 2)

by Paul E. Cooley

  “Meaning what?” Dickerson asked.

  “Meaning it’s going to vent carbon dioxide and the back pressure from a vacuum will ultimately compromise them completely. Once that happens,” she said, “the autodoc will lose pressure fast.”

  Carb put a hand on the wall and leaned. “So what do we do?”

  Kali turned from the autodoc to face her marines. “It’s getting warm in here. Downright toasty compared to what it’s like outside. And while I’d like nothing more than to get out of this suit for a few minutes, I don’t think we can risk it.”

  “Copy that,” Dickerson said. “We’ve all got damage. If I pull this thing off, it might not be pressure safe again.”

  “Exactly,” Kali said. “So we either stay here and hope that Taulbee and Gunny find us within the next 20 hours or so, or we break the seal, find Elliott a suit, make it to the bow, and find a way to make contact with Black.”

  The three marines fell silent. Kali was fairly sure what both Carb and Dickerson would vote for, but this wasn’t a democracy. She was in charge, regardless of their former ranks and their experience. But asking the question? That was how to lead. Get some idea of what the troops were thinking, make sure they know you’re listening to them, and then make the best decision based on the arguments and logic. She’d hear them out. But she already knew what she wanted to do.

  “Well, shit,” Dickerson said. “I don’t want to leave this room. I mean,” he said pointing to the blood-streaked wall, “the art is top notch, the walls are thick, and those fucking pinecone things aren’t in here--”

  “Copy that,” Carb said.

  “--but,” he continued, “I think staying here is going to be a bad idea in the long run.”

  “Why?” Kali asked.

  “Because,” he said, “if the seals fail, Elliott dies. If something comes through the vents, Elliott dies. If we stay here too long and no one comes for us? Elliott dies. That’s the way I see it.”

  Carb groaned. “Hate to say it, Boss, but meathead is right.”

  Kali nodded. “Was pretty sure the two of you were going to say that. Carb? What’s the nannie status on your jack?”

  She paused for a moment before replying. “They’re ready. I imagine we’ve got at least seven or eight more tries with them before they run out of power.”

  “I have a jack too,” Dickerson said.

  “As do I,” Kali said. “So here’s what I want to do. We’re going to do one more search around the medical bay looking for damaged panels. Use your seal-patches and pressure lock the other room. When we lose pressure in here, I don’t want something to know about it if it somehow finds a way in there.”

  “Aye, Corporal,” Dickerson said.

  “I’ll go through the schematics and find a likely place for suits.”

  “You mean,” Carb said, “outside of the cargo bay and shuttle bay.”

  “Shit. Yeah. Those two are out. We go forward and up until we can’t,” Kali said. “I want to be as far away from those areas as possible.”

  “Sounds good. Let’s do it, Carb,” Dickerson said.

  The two marines headed out of the room. Kali watched them go and then slowly turned back to the autodoc. “You just have to hold the seal for a little while,” she said to it. “Don’t fuck me on this.”

  While Dickerson and Carb sealed the other room’s door with pressure patches, she brought up the schematics. They were on the third lowest level of Mira’s foredecks. They had nearly 250 meters of space on each deck, with six more decks above them. Six more decks of darkness, z-g, absolute zero temperatures, and vacuum. If they were going to do this, she needed to locate the most likely spot to find a spare suit.

  That part was relatively easy. Each deck had an emergency station in case of pressure loss. From the jumpsuit-clad corpses they’d found thus far, it was obvious Mira’s crew hadn’t worn pressure suits while on duty, unless their jobs required it. The cargo bay was probably filled with pressure suits. If they’d bothered scouting the entire shuttle bay, they would probably have found spares there as well.

  “That’s what you get for not thinking,” she said aloud. She’d been panicked to find an autodoc, panicked because of what Black had told her, and too eager to find a safe place. And for that, Elliott might end up dying anyway. She shook away the thoughts; they weren’t helpful to figuring this out.

  What was helpful were the clearly marked emergency stations. Since the ship had lost pressure, the stations had probably activated to keep nearby personnel alive while they suited up. And that brought up another problem.

  If Mira’s personnel had survived the loss of atmosphere long enough, how many of them had put on the EVA suits to survive? How many unused suits were there? And on what decks?

  One thing at a time, she told herself. Since leaving the cargo bay, the two decks they’d barely searched had been devoid of the pinecones and the damage appeared relatively minimal, apart from the savaged corpses and the writing in blood. At least they wouldn’t have to worry about the scribe of those messages--43 years was far too long for someone to survive in this, unless they somehow managed to power a stasis system for the duration. Given the power readings Black had reported, she very much doubted that was a possibility.

  The emergency station on this deck was fifty meters down the corridor from the medical bay. The next was another fifty meters away. She overlaid the deck maps and smiled. Each deck had an emergency station at roughly the same intervals and positions. This wasn’t going to be as difficult as she’d feared.

  Provided they weren’t all used, she said to herself. That line of thinking wasn’t constructive. She’d send Dickerson and Carb to scout. They’d find something. She believed in them. If there was a spare suit on Mira, they’d find it.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The sun was nowhere to be seen. The Pluto Exo-observatory was on the dark side of the dwarf planet, captured in its shadow, and completely bathed in darkness. Dr. Nobilis Reed stared at Pluto’s edge and the wan glow emanating from Sol nearly 6 light hours away. He rubbed at his eyes. He needed a nap.

  Between the SFMC vessel coming in and nearly wrecking their antiquated xenon delivery systems, and the stress of having to prepare for their visit in the first place, the entire staff was on edge. The moment S&R Black had left for Mira, most of the staff had shared a collective sigh of relief. But Reed wasn’t relieved because he knew they would be back.

  Whether or not they were successful in towing the ancient ship back to Pluto, S&R Black would return to PEO to top off their fuel tanks, probably beg for a few beers, and cause the staff to lose their collective shit. Some of his fellow astronomers and engineers wanted to invite the marines aboard, just to see some unfamiliar faces. Others, like himself, were this far out in space for a good reason--the less they had to deal with humanity, the better.

  About the only positive outcome from their mission would be his chance to see the ancient ship up close and personal. If the marines deemed it safe, he and his staff might even have the opportunity to board her and take a look around. She’d been past the boundaries of the solar system. Although the ship’s primary mission hadn’t been to survey nearby celestial bodies, he was absolutely certain Mira’s rather rudimentary sensors had collected more than enough data to advance their knowledge two-fold. At least.

  But that would require the ship to be in good enough shape to recover the data. He knew that was unlikely. It would also require the data banks not to have been destroyed by 43 years of neglect. That was also highly unlikely.

  If they couldn’t recover any of the sensor logs, so be it. At least he’d be able to say to every other astronomer in Sol System “I saw Mira fly just outside my window.” The next time he rotated back to Titan Station, he’d have a hell of a story to tell.

  “Dr. Reed,” Mickey’s voice said through his office speakers.

  He glanced at the holo-display that lit up on his desk. “Yes, Mickey?”

  “The arrays you task
ed to watch space around Mira have picked up another flash.”

  He stared at the image floating before him, frowning at the bright spot lay in its center. “When did this occur?” he asked.

  “Fifteen to twenty minutes ago,” Mickey said. “I didn’t want to bother you with it until I was certain it wasn’t a sensor anomaly.”

  Reed rolled his eyes. Mickey tended toward caution, sometimes to the consternation of the PEO astronomers. The AI constantly ran additional scans, simulations, and compared them against known phenomenon before communicating to the crew.

  “Is it the same kind of flash we first saw from Mira after she entered Sol System?”

  “Yes, Dr. Reed,” Mickey said. “The analysis matches perfectly.”

  He groaned. “Mickey, you originally said that flash was light from Pluto.”

  The AI paused. “I was incorrect,” Mickey said. “The Trio sent me an update file to fix the logic issue.”

  Reed nodded. “Ideas about what caused the flash?”

  “High-level gamma radiation consistent with a massive photon burst,” the AI said.

  “Photon burst?”

  “Yes, Dr. Reed.”

  Photon burst. Like a nuke? “Any other signatures?”

  “Yes, Dr. Reed,” Mickey said. “Since the flash, I’ve detected low spectrum X-ray emissions from the same location.”

  “X-rays?” His eyebrows knitted together. “What are those marines doing out there?”

  “Unknown,” Mickey said.

  He glared at the speaker. “I wasn’t asking you,” he said.

  “My apologies, Dr. Reed.”

  “Have you sent the information to S&R Black?”

  The AI paused. “I have, Dr. Reed. Their AI confirms both the blast and my sensor findings.”

  “Does their AI know what caused it?”

  “No, Dr. Reed,” Mickey said. “But it is monitoring the situation.”

  “Interesting,” he said. “Let me know if it happens again.”

  “I will, Dr. Reed,” Mickey said. “But there is another situation you may wish to know about.”

  “Oh, really?” He lifted a hydration pouch from the desk and sucked on the nipple. He swallowed, wiped his mouth, and returned his eyes to the display. It had changed.

  A rectangle of deep space floated before him. A different set of stars twinkled in the background. A spatter of barely visible dots clustered around the left side. He frowned and pointed at it.

  “Mickey? Is that a problem with one of the telescopes?”

  “No, Dr. Reed. It’s--”

  “Because they look like pixel artifacts.”

  “No, Dr. Reed,” Mickey said. “I have confirmed they are not the result of a malfunction or interference.”

  “Okay. Continue.”

  Mickey paused. A green halo highlighted the cluster. “These are new KBOs that recently entered the system.”

  He stopped in mid-suck, blinking at the display. “New KBOs?”

  “Yes, Dr. Reed.” The display changed again, the highlight disappearing and the image transforming into color gradients. Most of the image was still pitch black, but the dots glowed red. “They are emitting low-level X-rays similar to those emitted by Mira.”

  “And they just entered the system?” he asked.

  “No, Dr. Reed,” Mickey said. “I analyzed their trajectory and matched their appearance against the scans of the last several days. They have been incoming since Mira first emitted the flash 14 days ago.”

  He froze, the hydration pouch floating just below his jaw. “Why didn’t you detect them before?”

  Mickey paused. “The radiation threshold for our sensor array was set too high,” the AI admitted. “They are barely detectable and discernible from standard background radiation. Once I was looking for them, I found them.”

  That made sense. Reed cocked his head. “Do the radiation signatures match any known KBOs?”

  “No, Dr. Reed,” Mickey said. “However, their signatures are their least interesting aspect.”

  He felt a shudder of excitement. “What is?”

  The image changed again. The clusters were so faint, they barely showed up at all. For the next twenty seconds, the image continued changing, the clusters slowly becoming more distinct.

  “The objects appear to be following Mira’s trajectory.”

  “What?” he asked.

  “The objects appear--”

  “I heard you,” Reed snapped. “What do you think it means?”

  Mickey paused. “Whatever phenomenon caused Mira to return to Sol System obviously affected these objects as well.”

  “So they are exo-solar in nature?”

  “Yes, Dr. Reed,” Mickey said. “I believe so.”

  He grinned. “New KBOs. With radiation signatures?” He shook his head, the grin becoming a wide smile. “This is history, Mickey,” he said.

  “Yes, Dr. Reed,” the AI said. “No such phenomenon has ever been recorded.”

  Dr. Reed clapped his hands together, the sound echoing off the high ceiling. “I want extensive coverage of the area, Mickey. I want every picture you can possibly get of those objects. I want constant radiation sensor sweeps and you are authorized to re-task every resource to monitor them.”

  “Yes, Dr. Reed,” Mickey said.

  He leaned back in the chair and put his hands behind his head. This was a glorious day in astronomical history. But it was also a stupendous discovery. And whose name would go on it? Not Mickey’s. He loosed a satisfied sigh. He would absolutely own next year’s Exo-solar conference. He’d finally get the recognition he deserved.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  A ship’s engineer was the most important person on a mission. Or so Nobel liked to think. Actually, that was bullshit. A ship’s engineer was the most important person on a mission when something went wrong with the ship. There. That sounded better and much more accurate. Only right now, Nobel wished there was someone else to do the job.

  Reactor 3 definitely had a problem, but it wasn’t in the reactor itself or the shielding. Nope. That would have been too easy. If 3 had gone bad, he could have just taken it out of service and repaired it back at Trident Station. But he couldn’t get that lucky. Instead, the radiation leak appeared to be in the shield/fin interface. That was, well, less than lucky. Actually, it was a shit sandwich.

  The heat exchanger for the reactor interfaced from the shielding to the fin on the ship’s exterior. Excess heat funneled through the exchanger to the fin. This far out in the Kuiper Belt with temperatures near or at absolute zero, heat from the fin easily dispersed into space.

  Nobel had only seen fins melt on two occasions. Both had occurred in Martian orbit with Sol’s light painting the ship. Each incident involved a leaky reactor and a broken heat exchanger. He was glad he didn’t have to face those problems on this run.

  This far away from Trident Station, S&R Black was incredibly vulnerable. There were no stations, except for the Pluto Exo-observatory, within 30 AU. PEO didn’t have repair bays or personnel that could help put the ship back together again if they suffered a major problem. Nope. It was all on Nobel.

  “And this is why they pay you the big bucks,” he said aloud, a grim smile on his face.

  He’d already scanned the assemblies, taken X-rays of the welds and pipes, and decided the problem wasn’t in the ship. So why was he running the scans yet again? Because, dammit, he didn’t want to go outside.

  He put the scanner back in his belt and glared at the shielding. “You just couldn’t do me a solid, could you?” The component said nothing in return.

  He exhaled in a shudder and connected to Dunn and Oakes. “Nobel here.”

  “Go,” Dunn said.

  “Sir, that radiation leak is in the fin interface on the hull. I can’t find any problems inside, so it’s going to take a walk to fix it.”

  “Are you sure?” Oakes asked.

  “I’m sure, man.”

  “Okay,” Dunn said. “Any c
lue how long it will take?”

  “Sir, Black and I will have to perform a diagnostic on the hull and then figure out what component we need. This could take a while.”

  “Negative,” Dunn said. “You have thirty minutes. By then, the harness should be ready and we need to get the hell out of here. Understood?”

  “Aye, sir,” he said, doing his best to sound confident.

  “Dunn, out.”

  Nobel collected the rest of his tools and stuffed them back into the rad suit’s belt. He was about to leave the reactors behind and head to the cargo bay when he heard something through the audio mic. He cocked his head and listened.

  Scratch. Scratch. Scritchy scratch.

  Nobel frowned. “Black?”

  The AI responded immediately. “Yes, Lieutenant?”

  “Are you monitoring audio here?”

  “Yes, Lieutenant.” The AI sounded bored.

  “Did you hear that sound?”

  Black paused, probably playing back the audio to figure out what Nobel was talking about. “There are various ambient sounds coming from small debris hitting the hull,” the AI said.

  “Didn’t sound like debris to me,” he said. “Can you give me a cam view of fin 3?”

  A feed appeared in his HUD. The darkness was so complete, he had to switch to infrared. The fin glowed, heat still dissipating from the metal heatsink. In another few minutes, the fin would cool down and no longer even register on infrared.

  Nobel was about to cut the feed and then he noticed something. “Black? Can you sharpen that image a little?”

  “Yes, Lieutenant.”

  The feed pixelated briefly and then zoomed in. Nobel watched for a hint of movement, his mind racing over one suspicious shadow sitting just beyond the fin. It was a dead space. The fin’s heat should have spread over a half-meter circle around the mounting point. Instead, it was a half-circle, the other half lying in absolute nothing.