They'd have to know the original ship's course exactly, Wai said. And if a search ship did manage to locate them, why did they build the dish?
Marcus didn't say anything. He knew he was right. The others would accept his scenario eventually, they always did.
All right, let's stop arguing about what happened to them, and why they built the dish, Karl said. When do we go over there, Captain?
Have you forgotten the gold? Antonio asked. That is why we came to this disc system. We should resume our search for it. This piece of wreckage can wait.
Don't be crazy. This is worth a hundred times as much as any gold.
I fail to see how. An ancient, derelict starship with a few heating circuits operational. Come along. I've been reasonable indulging you, but we must return to the original mission.
Marcus regarded the man cautiously, a real bad feeling starting to develop. Anyone with the slightest knowledge of finance and the markets would know the value of salvaging a xenoc starship. And Antonio had been born rich. Victoria, he said, not shifting his gaze, is the data from the magnetic array satellites still coming through?
Yes. She touched Antonio's arm. The Captain is right. We can continue to monitor the satellite results from here, and investigate the xenoc ship simultaneously.
Double your money time, Katherine said with apparent innocence.
Antonio's face hardened. Very well, he said curtly. If that's your expert opinion, Victoria, my dear. Carry on by all means, Captain.
•••
In its inert state the SII spacesuit was a broad sensor collar with a protruding respirator tube and a black football-sized globe of programmable silicon hanging from it. Marcus slipped the collar round his neck, bit on the tube nozzle, and datavised an activation code into the suit's control processor. The silicon ball began to change shape, flattening out against his chest, then flowing over his body like a tenacious oil slick. It enveloped his head completely, and the collar sensors replaced his eyes, datavising their vision directly into his neural nanonics. Three others were in the preparation compartment with him: Schutz, who didn't need a spacesuit to EVA, Antonio, and Jorge. Marcus had managed to control his surprise when they'd volunteered. At the same time, with Wai flying the MSV he was glad they weren't going to be left behind in the ship.
Once his body was sealed by the silicon, he climbed into an armoured exoskeleton with an integral cold-gas manoeuvring pack. The SII silicon would never puncture, but if he was struck by a rogue particle the armour would absorb the impact.
When the airlock's outer hatch opened, the MSV was floating fifteen metres away. Marcus datavised an order into his manoeuvring pack processor, and the gas jets behind his shoulder fired, pushing him towards the small egg-shaped vehicle. Wai extended two of the MSV's three waldo arms in greeting. Each of them ended in a simple metal grid, with a pair of boot clamps on both sides.
Once all four of her passengers were locked into place, Wai piloted the MSV in towards the disc. The rock particle had a slow, erratic tumble, taking a hundred and twenty hours to complete its cycle. As she approached, the flattish surface with the dish was just turning into the sunlight. It was a strange kind of dawn, the rock's crumpled grey-brown crust speckled by the sharp black shadows of its own rolling prominences, while the dish was a lake of infinite black, broken only by the jagged spire of the horn rising from its centre. The xenoc ship was already exposed to the amber light, casting its bloated sundial shadow across the featureless glassy cliff. She could see the ripple of different ores and mineral strata frozen below the glazed surface, deluding her for a moment that she was flying towards a mountain of cut and polished onyx.
Then again, if Victoria's theory was right, she could well be.
Take us in towards the top of the wedge, Marcus datavised. There's a series of darker rectangles there.
Will do, she responded. The MSV's chemical thrusters pulsed in compliance.
Do you see the colour difference near the frayed edges of the shell? Schutz asked. The stuff's turning grey. It's as if the decay is creeping inwards.
They must be using something like our molecular-binding-force generators to resist vacuum ablation, Marcus datavised. That's why the main section is still intact.
It could have been here for a long time, then.
Yeah. We'll know better once Wai collects some samples from the tower.
There were five rectangles arranged in parallel, one and a half metres long and one metre wide. The shell material below the shorter edge of each one had a set of ten grooves leading away down the curve.
They look like ladders to me, Antonio datavised. Would that mean these are airlocks?
It can't be that easy, Schutz replied.
Why not? Marcus datavised. A ship this size is bound to have more than one airlock.
Yeah, but five together?
Multiple redundancy.
With technology this good?
That's human hubris. The ship still blew up, didn't it?
Wai locked the MSV's attitude fifty metres above the shell section. The micro-pulse radar is bouncing right back at me, she informed them. I can't tell what's below the shell, it's a perfect electromagnetic reflector. We're going to have communication difficulties once you're inside.
Marcus disengaged his boots from the grid and fired his pack's gas jets. The shell was as slippery as ice, neither stikpads nor magnetic soles would hold them to it.
Definitely enhanced valency bonds, Schutz datavised. He was floating parallel to the surface, holding a sensor block against it. It's a much stronger field than Lady Mac 's. The shell composition is a real mix; the resonance scan is picking up titanium, silicon, boron, nickel, silver, and a whole load of polymers.
Silver's weird, Marcus commented. But if there's nickel in it our magnetic soles should work. He manoeuvred himself over one of the rectangles. It was recessed about five centimetres, though it blended seamlessly into the main shell. His sensor collar couldn't detect any seal lining. Halfway along one side were two circular dimples, ten centimetres across. Logically, if the rectangle was an airlock, then these should be the controls. Human back-ups were kept simple. This shouldn't be any different.
Marcus stuck his fingers in one. It turned bright blue.
Power surge, Schutz datavised. The block's picking up several high-voltage circuits activating under the shell. What did you do, Marcus?
Tried to open one.
The rectangle dilated smoothly, material flowing back to the edges. Brilliant white light flooded out.
Clever, Schutz datavised.
No more than our programmable silicon, Antonio retorted.
We don't use programmable silicon for external applications.
It settles one thing, Marcus datavised. They weren't Kiint, not with an airlock this size.
Quite. What now?
We try to establish control over the cycling mechanism. I'll go in and see if I can operate the hatch from inside. If it doesn't open after ten minutes, try the dimple again. If that doesn't work, cut through it with the MSV's fission blade.
The chamber inside was thankfully bigger than the hatch: a pentagonal tube two metres wide and fifteen long. Four of the walls shone brightly, while the fifth was a strip of dark-maroon composite. He drifted in, then flipped himself over so he was facing the hatch, floating in the centre of the chamber. There were four dimples just beside the hatch. First one, he datavised. Nothing happened when he put his fingers in. Second. It turned blue. The hatch flowed shut.
Marcus crashed down onto the strip of dark composite, landing on his left shoulder. The force of the impact was almost enough to jar the respirator tube out of his mouth. He grunted in shock. Neural nanonics blocked the burst of pain from his bruised shoulder.