Rini volunteered to remain on the ship, and promised to detect asteroids in time for the rest of the crew to return.
Ilika accepted his offer, and planned to make good use of the other four crew members.
Kibi and Sata knew their job was critical. They were the first to approach the huge, silent, nearly-lifeless ship.
“You’re looking for a hatch with three vertical marks under a horizontal line,” Timorafilia explained over the intercom. The little Ti’ia could clearly see, in her mind’s eye, the language glyph that indicated a safe entry hatch designed to look unsafe. She also remembered clearly the glyph on the hatch T’shlix had opened, the last thing she had seen with her eyes.
Sata pointed at a hatch and its glyph, and Kibi nodded, then spoke. “We’re looking at a hatch like that, a triangle about a meter on each side.”
“Triangle? What’s on the right side of the glyph?”
Kibi cocked her head slightly. “A long vertical line, then two short diagonals sloping upward.”
“Won’t work, it’s a refueling door.”
The two substitute language specialists moved on. The other three followed a few meters behind. Boro carried the powerful prying tool, Ilika bore two large sample containers hooked to his suit, and Mati had four small containers.
“Okay,” Sata began, “we’ve got a square hatch, two meters, same basic
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glyph, but no vertical on the right, instead three short horizontals close together.”
“That’s the one,” Timorafilia assured. “Paint or raised metal?”
“Metal.”
“Yes. They wanted that bit of dis-information to be durable.”
Sata
chuckled.
Ilika insisted Kibi describe the entire language glyph to Timorafilia once more, just to be sure. The two girls, one human and one Ti’ia, discussed every line and dot, and concluded they had the right hatch.
Boro approached with the prying tool, but Ilika stopped him. “I can’t ask you to do this . . . after what happened yesterday.”
Boro scrunched his face in thought, then swallowed. “Neither can I become a Nebador citizen if I’m not willing to take my share of the risks. I’m the ship’s engineer. This is my job. And . . . I was starting to feel close to T’shlix, and would be proud to finish what he started.”
Captain and engineer looked at each other silently for a moment.
Eventually Ilika nodded.
Sata made a tiny whimpering sound, and hoped no one heard.
Unlike the hatch on the first ship, cold and brittle, this hatch reluctantly swung open on hinges that would have creaked and groaned loudly if any air had been present. Boro had to use the tool’s power continuously until the hatch was wide open.
“Reaction from the ship, Rini?” Ilika asked.
“Nothing I can see.”
“Are we going to rescue the ones who are still alive?” Mati asked from the back of the group, her voice colored with sympathy.
“That’s a possibility,” K’storpo said from the Manessa Kwi.
Sata chuckled. “We’ve done that once already. We found a girl stranded on an ice continent. The only bad part was that we had to rescue her idiot father, too!”
The entire crew of the Manessa Kwi burst into laughter.
“I’d love to hear about that mission,” M’palta said through the intercom.
“Okay,” Ilika began when the laughter died down, “I’m first, Kibi and Sata
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next, then Mati, and Boro brings up the rear. No one touches anything without my permission.”
With the memory fresh in their minds of T’shlix being torn to pieces by an explosion, no one argued.
Ilika led them along dark metal corridors toward the front of the ship where they could see, from the outside, that the bridge was located. Three times along the way, they had to stop and let Boro pry open metal doors. The first two slid open vertically. The last, just before stepping onto the bridge, slid horizontally, with metal teeth along both sides. Boro let the prying tool push it all the way to the walls, two meters apart.
Nearly everything on the bridge was made of metal. The few glass display screens were small and dark. Unlike the Manessa Kwi, no colors or textures interrupted the shades of black and gray, except some harsh lettering in faded yellow.
Kibi worked with her bracelet, and announced that the air was nitrogen and oxygen, but much too thin to breathe.
Sata began describing language glyphs to Timorafilia.
Mati, assigned to maintain a broad overview and watch for dangers, floated among the stations. She was soon gazing down at the strange helm, located in the exact center of the room, with so many control levers that it must have needed a pilot with six arms. After frowning at the cold metal seat, she opened her bracelet and took a picture.
With tiny bursts from his suit thrusters, Boro slowly made his way around the ugly room, and soon found what he thought was the engineering station.
“Ilika, I found the . . . um . . . the engineer.”
Ilika was quickly at his side, looking down at the dried husk of an insect who once sported proud wings and a sharp stinger, but had died in his metal seat long ago. The remains were completely hollow and brittle, and two legs had already broken off, one still floating nearby.
“He must have been the last one on the bridge,” Ilika speculated, “ordered to do his job until the bitter end.”
“After . . . you know . . . Sonmatia Seven, I know how that feels,” Boro said, blinking thoughtfully.
NEBADOR Book Seven: The Local Universe 35
They described the scene to K’storpo, who approved the collection of a bio-sample. Boro called Mati over.
The pilot of the Manessa Kwi, after tearing her eyes away from the strange and uncomfortable helm, floated that way, glancing at the three-quarter-open entrance door as she passed.
Rini spent most of this time at his station, searching for ways to spot asteroids smaller and farther away, and making very sure an alarm would sound if so much as a grain of sand got near. But occasionally, he had to focus his eyes on something other than his console, stretch his legs, and ask if anyone needed anything.
Seeing the bandages on the male spider’s legs made him search his mind for anything else he could do to protect his ship and the excursion team. But, he had to admit to himself with a sigh, no other precautions appeared to be possible. Through their mental link, Mati reassured him.
After setting out a fresh supply of fruit and worms, Rini wandered back to the bridge, taking a moment to look at the forward view on the main screen, still showing the half-open hatch through which his friends had gone.
At a console not far from the deceased engineer, Boro and Ilika found the information storage machine, and spent an hour describing language glyphs to Timorafilia. With the help of their bracelets, they determined that no energy was present, but the magnetic patterns of stored information remained.
K’storpo, M’palta, and several of the Ti’ias, all contributed ideas over the intercom as Ilika and Boro carefully took the machine apart. Although no one said it aloud, they all wished T’shlix could help.
After getting some samples that K’storpo requested, Mati floated over to the one-third-open door, turned back to the bridge of the massive ship, and imagined it buzzing with insects as it carried its precious cargo of life from somewhere they no longer wanted to be, to somewhere far away among the stars.
Rini went from task to task, listening to the on-going conversation
NEBADOR Book Seven: The Local Universe 36
between the mission specialists and his friends, and occasionally adding an idea of his own. He checked each station every few minutes, and asked Manessa if she had anything to report. Finally, he touched Mati’s mind, and she assured him that all was well.
From Manessa’s point of view, the little warm room, deep inside the ship, always looked the same. The bridge showed five very warm monkey mammals moving about. The image on Manessa’s main bridge display was still and silent, a massive metal colony ship, with a hatch one-quarter open, adrift in deep space.