Sensors are picking up their thermal signature, Schutz said. The structure is being maintained at thirty-six degrees Celsius.
That's on the warm side, Katherine observed. Perhaps their environmental system is malfunctioning.
Shouldn't affect the transponder, Karl said.
Captain, I think you'd better access the radar return, Schutz said.
Marcus boosted the fusion drives up to one and a half gees, and ordered the flight computer to datavise him the radar feed. The image which rose into his mind was of a fine scarlet mesh suspended in the darkness, its gentle ocean-swell pattern outlining the surface of the station and the disc particle it was attached to. Except Marcus had never seen any station like this before. It was a gently curved wedge-shaped structure, four hundred metres long, three hundred wide, and a hundred and fifty metres at its blunt end. The accompanying disc particle was a flattened ellipsoid of stony iron rock measuring eight kilometres along its axis. The tip had been sheered off, leaving a flat cliff half a kilometre in diameter, to which the structure was clinging. That was the smallest of the particle's modifications. A crater four kilometres across, with perfectly smooth walls, had been cut into one side of the rock. An elaborate unicorn-horn tower rose nine hundred metres from its centre, ending in a clump of jagged spikes.
Oh, Jesus, Marcus whispered. Elation mingled with fear, producing a deviant adrenalin high. He smiled thinly. How about that?
This was one option I didn't consider, Victoria said weakly.
Antonio looked round the bridge, a frown cheapening his handsome face. The crew seemed dazed, while Victoria was grinning with delight. Is it some kind of radio astronomy station? he asked.
Yes, Marcus said. But not one of ours. We don't build like that. It's xenoc.
Lady Mac locked attitude a kilometre above the xenoc structure. It was a position which made the disc appear uncomfortably malevolent. The smallest particle beyond the fuselage must have massed over a million tonnes; and all of them were moving, a slow, random three-dimensional cruise of lethal inertia. Amber sunlight stained those near the disc's surface a baleful ginger, while deeper in there were only phantom silhouettes drifting over total blackness, flowing in and out of visibility. No stars were evident through the dark, tightly packed nebula.
That's not a station, Roman declared. It's a shipwreck.
Now that Lady Mac 's visual-spectrum sensors were providing them with excellent images of the xenoc structure, Marcus had to agree. The upper and lower surfaces of the wedge were some kind of silver-white material, a fuselage shell which was fraying away at the edges. Both of the side surfaces were dull brown, obviously interior bulkhead walls, with the black geometrical outline of decking printed across them. The whole structure was a cross-section torn out of a much larger craft. Marcus tried to fill in the missing bulk in his mind; it must have been vast, a streamlined delta fuselage like a hypersonic aircraft. Which didn't make a lot of sense for a starship. Rather, he corrected himself, for a starship built with current human technology. He wondered what it would be like to fly through interstellar space the way a plane flew through an atmosphere, swooping round stars at a hundred times the speed of light. Quite something.
This doesn't make a lot of sense, Katherine said. If they were visiting the telescope dish when they had the accident, why did they bother to anchor themselves to the asteroid? Surely they'd just take refuge in the operations centre.
Only if there is one, Schutz said. Most of our deep space science facilities are automated, and by the look of it their technology is considerably more advanced.
If they are so advanced, why would they build a radio telescope on this scale anyway? Victoria asked. It's very impractical. Humans have been using linked baseline arrays for centuries. Five small dishes orbiting a million kilometres apart would provide a reception which is orders of magnitude greater than this. And why build it here? Firstly, the particles are hazardous, certainly to something that size. You can see it's been pocked by small impacts, and that horn looks broken to me. Secondly, the disc itself blocks half of the universe from observation. No, if you're going to do major radio astronomy, you don't do it from a star system like this one.
Perhaps they were only here to build the dish, Wai said. They intended it to be a remote research station in this part of the galaxy. Once they had it up and running, they'd boost it into a high-inclination orbit. They had their accident before the project was finished.
That still doesn't explain why they chose this system. Any other star would be better than this one.
I think Wai's right about them being long-range visitors, Marcus said. If a xenoc race like that existed close to the Confederation we would have found them by now. Or they would have contacted us.
The Kiint, Karl said quickly.
Possibly, Marcus conceded. The Kiint were an enigmatic xenoc race, with a technology far in advance of anything the Confederation had mastered. However, they were reclusive, and cryptic to the point of obscurity. They also claimed to have abandoned starflight a long time ago. If it is one of their ships, then it's very old.
And it's still functional, Roman said eagerly. Hell, think of the technology inside. We'll wind up a lot richer than the gold could ever make us. He grinned over at Antonio, whose humour had blackened considerably.
So what were the Kiint doing building a radio telescope here? Victoria asked.
Who the hell cares? Karl said. I volunteer to go over, Captain.
Marcus almost didn't hear him. He'd accessed the Lady Mac 's sensor suite again, sweeping the focus over the tip of the dish's tower, then the sheer cliff which the wreckage was attached to. Intuition was making a lot of junctions in his head. I don't think it is a radio telescope, he said. I think it's a distress beacon.
It's four kilometres across! Katherine said.
If they came from the other side of the galaxy, it would need to be. We can't even see the galactic core from here there's so much gas and dust in the way. You'd need something this big to punch a message through.
That's valid, Victoria said. You believe they were signalling their homeworld for help?
Yes. Assume their world is a long way off, three or four thousand light-years away if not more. They're flying a research or survey mission in this area and they have an accident. Three-quarters of their ship is lost, including the drive section. Their technology isn't good enough to build the survivors a working stardrive out of what's left, but they can enlarge an existing crater on the disc particle. So they do that; they build the dish and a transmitter powerful enough to give God an alarm call, point it at their homeworld, and scream for help. The ship can sustain them until the rescue team arrives. Even our own zero-tau technology is up to that.
Gets my vote, Wai said, giving Marcus a wink.
No way, said Katherine. If they were in trouble they'd use a supralight communicator to call for help. Look at that ship, we're centuries away from building anything like it.
Edenist voidhawks are pretty sophisticated, Marcus countered. We just scale things differently. These xenocs might have a more advanced technology, but physics is still the same the universe over. Our understanding of quantum relativity is good enough to build faster than light starships, yet after four hundred and fifty years of theoretical research we still haven't come up with a method of supralight communication. It doesn't exist.
If they didn't return on time, then surely their homeworld would send out a search and recovery craft, Schutz said.