by AZ Kelvin
“Right! Good, carry on then.” CJ shot off the thrusters for a few seconds to close the distance to the shuttle. “Boss, I’ll meet you two over there.”
“Roger that.”
Gina met CJ at the inner airlock hatch with a change-out O2 pack. CJ unsealed his helmet and pulled it off. Gina handed him a small towel and a bioerg drink in a no-grav bottle. She replaced his O2 pack as CJ ran the towel around his face and head to wipe off the light slimy sheen of sweat that built up on his body inside the EV suit after several hours. He took several long drinks from the bottle and felt the energizing fluid revitalize him as it coursed through his system and wiped away his fatigue.
“Ahhhh, thanks,” he said between drinks.
Gina smiled at him as she finished locking in the O2. “Yeah, I figured you wouldn’t take the time otherwise.”
“Mmm hmm. You okay here?” CJ asked her as he handed her the towel and drink bottle.
“Aye-firmative.” She snapped him a salute.
CJ unsealed a thigh pocket to disconnect a urine collection bag which he tossed in the bio-waste bin. He grabbed a replacement from the supply closet, slipped it into place, and resealed his suit before he settled his helmet on. The EV suit automatically circulated the air and reset the gauges before the helmet lights flashed green three times to indicate that the suit was sealed. He gave Gina the double thumbs-up and stepped through the inner hatch of the airlock. Gina sealed the hatch as he shrugged back into the thruster pack. CJ cycled the airlock to depressurize and opened the outer hatch. He could see the dim lights of Boss and Katy’s thruster packs in the distance and set his bearing on them.
“Cap, do you read?” Cal’s voice came over the comms.
“Go ahead, Cal.”
“We have about a dozen pods ready to load from the first row.”
“Copy that. Gina’ll pull over there. Load those into the airlock and she can run decon on that batch. Good work!”
“Aye, Cap.”
“Gina, did you copy that?” CJ made sure she overheard.
“Roger, already on the way.”
CJ cruised through the open area to meet Boss and Katy at the row of containers nearest the fake wall at the inner end of the chamber. The two of them had managed to get the access hatch open and disappeared inside, which took CJ’s reference point away. He set a waypoint on Boss’s EV beacon leading him toward their location until the lights of his thruster pack lit up the containers anchored to the wall. As he neared the container, he slowed his advance before moving in through the hatch and joining Katy and Boss inside.
CJ drifted into the container. “We found a series of buttons hidden along the frame of the control panel that opened the smuggling compartments.”
Katy spun to face the container control panel. “Left or right?”
“To the right.”
Katy hit the right spot and a panel slid away, revealing two rows of twelve buttons to open the hidden compartments. “Here we go.” She hit the buttons two at a time.
A search of the open compartments yielded only four items: three medium sealed crates and a group of nine cylinders strapped together.
“Hey, not bad,” Boss said.
“How do you know? We can’t tell what’s inside.” Katy put a lilt in her voice to let Boss know she was joking.
“I’m sure it will be fabulous, no matter what it is, my dear.”
“Well, no matter what it is, let’s get it tied off for pickup and go check out another one,” CJ said.
“Copy that.” Katy used cargo strapping to tie the cases together. Boss tied the end to the outside of the container for pickup as they came out.
“Let’s take the next one down,” CJ said while he dropped down to the container below the one they were just in.
“Captain?” GABI called over the comms.
“Go ahead, GABI.”
“All standard and emergency override sequences have been tested with negative results.”
“Understood. Any other suggestions?”
“Unfortunately, Captain, there are millions. It could be some sequence known only to the smugglers themselves.”
“Seedge!” Katy slipped to using his nickname in her excitement. “Maybe we’re looking at this too hard. It was eighty plus years ago, maybe even closer to a hundred when this place was built. That would be at the end of digital smart transmitters, before lightwave communications! GABI, send a DST maintenance code to reset all systems to manufacturer default and deactivate all security systems.”
“Captain?” GABI checked for clearance.
“Stand by,” CJ answered. “Do you really think sending a routine maintenance reset code is going to work?”
“These codes were secret a hundred years ago, but now they’re obsolete. They’ve been public knowledge for decades.”
“She’s got a good point there,” Boss said. “It’s worth a shot.”
“Okay,” CJ said. “Consider my arm twisted. GABI proceed with the transmission. Heads up, everyone.”
“Aye, sir, transmitting now.” There was a short wait, and then a series of distant thumps came from the wall. “The code was accepted. I am resetting security protocols and deactivating the magnetic door locks.”
“Ding dong, Altered Moon calling!” Boss seemed quite pleased at how he changed an ancient Earth quote to fit his needs.
A voice sounding just a little deeper than Gina’s muttered, “Ding-a-ling calling,” over the comms.
The large door swung upward as perimeter lights around the door came on at the same time. A moderate cheer sounded out from everyone. The cheer was cut short and ended in ‘ohh’ or ‘aww,’ as the lights flickered and went out, and the door slowed to a halt.
“You’d figure a power station big enough to run this place would have a shelf life longer than eighty-six years,” CJ wondered out loud.
“You’re correct, Captain,” GABI said. “The standard power cell backup has an average life of two hundred and fifty years.”
“What would drain the power so fast?” Boss asked.
“Any number of things,” GABI answered. “A closed circuit, an electromagnetic pulse, a recharging malfunction, or perhaps someone simply left the lights on.”
“Well, there’s one good way to find out.” CJ turned toward the newly opened door and sped away. “Last one in eats toe jam. Ah-ha!”
“Oh, that’s right. Run away from an innocent girl and an old handicapper! Big man!” Boss called after him.
Katy and Boss sped off in pursuit of CJ as he cruised over to recon the new opening. CJ ran his light along the opening, which showed an alloy framework behind the rock façade. The distance between the inner framework and the wall was barely a meter wide.
“We’ll have to go through without the packs on.” CJ shrugged out of his thruster pack and handed it over to Katy. “Here, pass this through to me, then I’ll take both of yours.” He slipped up through the opening and disappeared into the chamber beyond. He held onto a frame member and took a second to pan his light around before he took the packs. “There’re two ships in here and a pressure hatch. There’s no power at all.”
“What kind of ships?” Gina asked immediately.
“A freighter and a shuttle.”
“Ships are good!” Boss said happily.
“Where’s the hatch lead?” Cal asked.
“Well, I don’t know, Cal,” CJ remarked curtly. “I just got in here.”
“Well, here! Let’s go find out.” Katy impatiently reminded him they were waiting for him to take the packs.
“Right, sorry.” CJ turned around to see one pack already stuck up through the opening. “Got it.” He took that one and the other two packs then helped Katy and Boss through the opening. They slipped their packs back on to navigate the inner chamber. “Let’s check the freighter first.”
The three explorers lit up the freight-hauling vessel as they drifted over to it. The stout cargo vessel was a Titan class freighter, which matched the contai
ners from the other chamber. The bright white base color was highlighted with red and yellow caution zones and danger areas. A medium-sized cab sat above and behind an open framed area big enough to haul twelve of the containers in two rows of six containers each. The side of the ship was marked with a name and logo reading: ‘Ship your goods with Stile,’ and underneath that was: ‘Stile Freight Lines.’ Large block letters on side of the cab read ‘SFL Stellar Pride, SID 108888475.’ A smaller panel next to the hatch had more information:
Star Tug, Stellar Pride, SID 108888475
Stile Freight Lines, Fulson Stile, Proprietor
Q342, Arabeth City, Graylin IV, Graylin SS
#SFL, mgw.sfl.log, Q342.AC.G4.MSC1864
“GABI, run the names, Fulson Stile of Graylin Four, and also Fulson Freight Lines, through the archives, please.” CJ read the contact information off the ship.
“Acknowledged.”
“Let’s check the shuttle.” CJ drifted toward the other ship.
“What’d ya find, Cap?” Cal asked over the comms.
“There’s a Titan-class star freighter to go with the containers out there, and what looks like a civilian class long-range shuttle.”
The shuttle was a no-frills, four-passenger, gunmetal-grey, basic ‘getcherass back and forth to work’ transport, but mundane or not, the two ships had been the only certain things of possible value they’d found so far. The side of the shuttle next to the hatch read: ‘Stile Freight Lines’ above very fancy letters that read‘Skiff.’
“Skiff.” CJ read off the name of the shuttle. “Everything looks intact, undisturbed even.”
“If ya need anythin’ over there, Cap…,” Cal said, not so innocently.
“You’ll be the first to know, Cal.” CJ smiled a smile he knew everyone else shared as well.
“Roger that,” was Cal’s reluctant reply.
“And now! What’s behind doooor number three?” CJ jokingly called out, as he headed for the pressure hatch. “This is like a box in a box in a box.” He poked the entry icon with no result. “Dead. We’ll have to use the manual release.”
The manual release for the airlock, which was just in front of Boss, was a twenty-centimeter-long lever set in a quarter-circle indentation. There was a handle on the end of the lever and another handle right beside it, outside of the indentation. Boss grabbed the outside handle with his left hand and the lever handle with his right. He pulled the lever up once and then pushed it back down. He repeated the process three times, which unlocked the deadbolts holding the pressure seals closed. CJ pushed the hatch in; it gave way with a brief hiss of escaping air.
“There’s some air left in there—at least there was in the airlock,” CJ told anyone who was listening, which was everyone.
“Which means the last time it was cycled, was to let someone in,” GABI said.
”You mean to tell me someone went in there and never came back out again?” Katy asked.
“It would appear so, Chief.”
“Look, after eighty-six years, there’s no way anyone could be alive in there,” Cat said from where she and Cal were still checking containers for hidden goods.
“Right,” CJ agreed. “No power, dark as hell, and deep cold. Whether there’s air or not, no one could be alive.”
Disbelief in curses notwithstanding, CJ thought of all the things that hadn’t gone right with this mission. Now, here they were, inside a cursed planetoid, behind an exploding wall, about to enter a pitch-black smuggler hideout that apparently no one had ever left.
“Ghosts and goblins, be damned!” CJ called out to the stars. “Zhu, you and Cal get over here on the double. We’re going in.”
“On the way, Captain,” Cat replied.
“Yes!” Cal exclaimed.
*~*~*
Chapter Seven
CJ and the others had already stripped off their thruster packs when Zhu and Cal arrived at the anteroom. Katy pulled their packs through the slim opening before helping to pull them through. They joined CJ and Boss, who were already in the airlock, peeking through the inner hatch view port with their lights.
“Captain, I have information on Fulson Stile,” GABI said over the comms.
“Very well, go ahead.”
“Fulson Stile, born in four-fifty-one, owner and operator of Stile Freight Lines, established in four-eighty-one, married with one male child, minor smuggling charges, self-proclaimed treasure hunter, disappeared in five-oh-six, and was never heard from again.”
“Five-oh-six? That fits with the carbon dating that we found here. Treasure hunter, huh?”
“Self-proclaimed treasure hunter,” GABI corrected him. “There is no documented evidence showing that he ever truly found anything.”
“An unfortunate fortune hunter,” Boss said. “I hope he was better than his reputation suggests or we may be following in his footsteps.”
CJ activated the magnetic lock on the soles of his boots. “Okay, everyone except Boss turn on your sole locks.”
All habitats were required to install metal deck plates to accommodate sole locks in case of power loss. The intensity could be adjusted for an individual’s weight or for the desired resistance while walking. Boss, because of his nerve damage, would have an easier time floating than walking while in near-zero gravity.
“Cal, shut the outer hatch.”
“Got it, Cap.”
“Gina, GABI, you two with us?”
“Standing by, Captain.”
Once Cal had sealed the door with the manual access lever, CJ cranked the inner hatch locks open and pushed the hatch door inward. The pressure on their bodies increased noticeably as the air from inside the habitat filled the small airlock chamber. No auto power-up sequence came on as the hatch opened, which meant the power cells were completely spent trying to open the fake wall just that little bit.
The corridor ahead of them was blacker than a shadow at midnight. Circles of light from their helmets and hand lights wandered back and forth over the walls, ceiling, and floor of the corridor as they looked around them. A slight frost covered every surface, which meant there was air inside when the heat went down.
“This is weird,” Cal said. “It’s like they left without shuttin’ anythin’ off. The place just ran itself out of power over the years.”
“Weird, yes, it’s definitely weird. Maybe they didn’t leave?” CJ asked.
Two flush sliding doors stood next to each other on the left-hand side, a short distance down the corridor. CJ poked the entry icon in hopes it might just work, but it didn’t. Neither did the second door.
The group moved down the corridor to discover yet a third door and just beyond that was the end of the corridor with another pressure hatch set in it. CJ cranked the airlock bolts back while Cal pushed the hatch in. The room on the other side was obviously the domicile of the habitat. A kitchenette was along one side of the room, which was across from a personnel station and small bed with unkempt covers. Along the back wall there was a comms station, a small work area, and a desk. A strange shape was hunched over in front of the desk.
“What is that?” Katy asked in an ‘ewww’ tone of voice.
“Probably Fulson Stile,” Cat answered.
“I would imagine you’re right, Cat.” CJ walked over to the body hunched over the desk.
The right arm was curled and caught up in front of the body, which was hunched forward and to the right. The left arm was stretched out on the desk; the desiccated hand rested on an old-fashioned holographic picture pad. The picture pad flickered on and off as CJ’s light passed over it.
“Hey, it’s photovoltaic.” He tried to slide the pad out from under the hand, but the leathery skin yanked on the old bones, which fell apart and floated away in different directions.
“Ooh! Sorry buddy. Oh shit.” CJ stepped back quickly to avoid the cascading collapse of the decades-old corpse. The release of the hand bones caused the arm to shift; it took the jacket sleeve with it, which in turn shifted the torso, caus
ing it to collapse as well. The rest of the body followed. In a matter of a few seconds, the semi recognizable Human form was a mess of scattered bones and tattered skin drifting around the chair and desk in a morbid cloud.
“Oh my!” Cat said.
“That was stellar!” Cal said with a couple of nods.
“Seedge!” Katy scolded him.
“What? I just wanted to see the pictures,” CJ said with a shrug.
“Well, don’t let him get away.” Katy pointed at the bones that had started to drift.
“Get away?” CJ laughed and then stopped when he saw Katy had the ‘don’t you dare make fun of me’ look on her pretty face. “What do you want me to do? It’s like two degrees Kelvin in here! We can’t just wrap him up in a frozen blanket.”
“There’s an open locker over here,” Boss suggested.
“There,” was all Katy said.
“No bones about it, the locker it is.” CJ tried unsuccessfully to make her laugh. He carefully grabbed the jacket with some parts left inside and gingerly placed it in the locker. He pulled the datpad out of a sleeve pocket of the jacket before he moved aside for the others, who had collected the other pieces of Fulson to put inside. He slipped a recharge cord from the control pad of his EV suit and connected it to the datpad from the corpse’s jacket. The datpad glowed dimly for a moment, as its power systems were reacquainted with energy running through them after decades of being powered down. The glow became brighter and the display showed an old-style civilian ID homepage.
“Yep, Mr. Fulson Stile of Graylin Four, Arabeth City. The pad was last accessed zero-three, twenty-two, five-zero-six. That’s eighty-six years ago, which matches everything else. Well, it looks like our smuggler’s den is a den of one.”
Boss closed the locker panel and was surprised when the magnetic clasps still engaged and pulled the door shut flush with the wall. “Cat, could you tell anything about how he may have died?”
“The only thing I can say for certain is that there are no holes in the jacket or skull. For other than that, I would have to do a complete analysis of the remains.”
“I think we should bring over a power cell and see if we can get the main systems online,” CJ said. “There may be something worthwhile in the data banks. Cal and Katy, you two grab a power cell from Moonshadow and see what you can do.”
