Battle Cruiser (9 page)

-11-

There was little sense of urgency in my crewmen as we turned around and faced the anomalous mass we’d left behind in space. Instead, there was an air of wariness, almost dread.

We no longer called it a comet—we didn’t know what it was, but we knew it wasn’t something natural and harmless.

“Take us in slow, Rumbold,” I said. “Let’s conserve fuel and look for opportunities.”

“Opportunities? What kind of opportunities, Skipper? A chance to die mysteriously?”

I glanced at him quizzically. “What are you talking about? The object isn’t dangerous.”

His eyes all but bugged out of his head as he studied me. “Have you forgotten Jimmy’s hand, sir?”

I shrugged. “A freak accident caused by a scrap of debris—probably by one of these tubes whirling along in a fast orbit.”

Rumbold shook his head. “The boys in back have run the numbers. It’s not possible, sir. The tubes aren’t sharp. As blunt at they are, they’d have to be moving at an amazing speed to sever a man’s hand.”

“A freak meteor, perhaps. A rock the size of a bullet might have struck out of the blue. We’re only half an AU from the belt, after all.”

“I’d agree, that’s the most likely case, but as I examined this mystery I came upon another possibility.”

“Explain.”

“These orbiting tubes—they’re moving too fast. They should be able to escape the minimal tug of an object this size. That’s when I discovered this snowball has more gravity than it should have.”

His statement made me frown. On the face of it, Rumbold was right. Only dust could be effectively captured by the gravity of a rock this size. In all the events of the day, I hadn’t had time to consider the ultimate nature of the object before us.

“Let’s see the gravitational readings,” I said.

Rumbold had been waiting for that request. He instantly flicked his screen and sent the data to my console. I examined the details with a growing sense of disbelief.

“How’s this possible? That object can’t exert such a powerful pull. It’s like a small moon—I don’t believe it. The sensors must be off.”

Rumbold shook his head slowly. “That’s what I thought at first, too, when I noticed the readings. That thing is pulling as if it’s made of collapsed stardust.”

Turning back to the raw imagery, I could see the object growing on my screen again. Dark edges. Bright reflective surfaces. My mind raced.

“There are only two possibilities,” I said. “Both are alarming. Either that object actually has a collapsed core, and is an escaped chunk of stellar debris, or it has an artificial field around it. In either case, it has a stronger gravitational field than it should.”

“Like I said, sir. It’s a mystery—and it’s dangerous.”

After considering my options I spoke again. “Let’s approach more slowly this time. Try to analyze the pattern of debris. Track it carefully, map it. We want to get close without damaging the ship.”

Several shifts passed as we revolved around the object at a safe distance. We hung back, staying farther out than we’d done before. I didn’t want any more strange accidents.

“Rumbold,” I said with a yawn some thirty hours later, “you’ve been with the Guard a long time. How come you never sought promotion into the officer ranks?”

“Ah,” he said, smiling at me. “You’d think an old spacer like me would seek it out, wouldn’t you? That I’d demand my turn at the tiller. Well sir, let me explain—none of us here want your job.”

I eyed him in surprise, uncertain if I was being insulted or enlightened. I suspected it was a little of both.

“Go on,” I said in a neutral voice.

“You see, sir, it’s like this. A man who’s in the officer ranks is eventually forced to retire. There are only so many spots left in the Guard, and every young fellow who graduates from the Academy dreams of a command—like you sir, no offense.”

“None taken. Continue.”

“Well,” he shrugged, “that’s about all there is to say. I want serve in the Guard, so I take the job that’s least sought after. When the cutbacks come every few years, I’ve always been passed over and left alone.”

I nodded thoughtfully. “That’s dedication,” I said. “I’m impressed.”

“That’s part of it, certainly.”

Glancing at him again, I frowned. “What’s the other part?”

Rumbold shifted uncomfortably. We’d served together for years, but I’d rarely asked him probing questions about his personal choices in life. I guess that’s because we’d never been in space so long together before. A week-long mission didn’t compare to the one we were on now. Before this was over, we would experience many months of being just a few feet apart.

Rumbold sighed. “I suppose someone ought to tell you our motivations. Why would rattling old men like Jimmy and I choose this life? The truth is we don’t have much choice. It’s the longevity drugs, sir. Active-duty personnel get them for free. Once we’re out of the service, well, we won’t be able to afford them.”

“Ah,” I said in sudden understanding. “I get it. You
can’t
leave. If you did, you’d die.”

“That’s the long and the short of it, Captain. We’re old, and we’re fragile. Without those drugs…” He shrugged.

“You might not last a year,” I said thoughtfully. The whole system seemed monumentally unfair. But longevity was a tricky thing. Long ago, Earth’s government had publicly stated they would dole out extended life on the basis of service and merit.

But the truth was that Earth’s wealthy citizens could expect to live on without concern for centuries. Average men like Rumbold could never afford the treatments on their own. They had to serve in the Guard to stay alive.

“Rumbold, would you mind another personal question?” I asked.

“Another one? All right, why not?”

“Tell me, how long have you been around? Can you recall how life was on Earth before the Cataclysm?”

“No,” he said. “I was alive back then, but only as a baby. My parents often spoke of the early days, however. They said it was a golden time. Trade ships came every month from the colonies bringing foods, fabrics and entertainments we can only dream of now. Visitors came as well, some taller than any earthborn man. Others sported strangely colored flesh or wore outlandish costumes. What I would give to have seen them myself in person.”

“Yes…” I said thoughtfully. I’d been half-joking when I’d asked him if he’d been alive so long, and his answer had surprised me. The Cataclysm had broken the network of wormholes that connected Earth to her colonies over a hundred and fifty years back.

How old did that make Rumbold? A hundred and sixty? Amazing.

“My age should better explain why I must stay in the Guard,” he continued. “When I started taking longevity drugs, they were primitive. Today, the new formulas rewrite a man’s DNA. They erase errors at the tail end of the sequence and youthful cells are produced in abundance. But they didn’t have that kind of technology when I started.”

“Right. What was the old method? Cellular replacement?”

“Yes, exactly. The first drug in wide distribution was called Rejuv. We thought it was a miracle back then, and so it was. But all it did was cull out cells that were produced with errors. It didn’t stop the aging process completely. Consequently, my body continued to age for half a dozen decades, albeit slowly. When the rewriting drugs came out, my original programming had faded away. Even the best drugs can’t repair and improve my cells, returning youth, because all of those original DNA strands had been edited out. It’s as if they lost my disk, and I’m running on a RAM-only copy.”

He seemed to find his predicament funny, but I found his references dated in the extreme. Modern computers never used anything like disks or RAM.

He laughed until he had a coughing fit, then laughed some more. I smiled politely, as I often did for the benefit of my most ancient crewmen.

In time, we plotted a course through the debris and eased our way closer to the surface of the snowball. Nearly a week had passed by the time we found ourselves touching down on the surface.

During that time, Singh had occasionally contacted me for updates. He informed me that
Altair
had been ordered to render assistance to
Cutlass
directly because no other ship was in range.

These new orders hadn’t improved his mood. He’d meant to punish me with a long sit out in space, but that objective had backfired. Now he’d been ordered to fly out and meet me.

Fortunately for everyone involved,
Altair’s
engines were far larger and more efficient than those possessed by my tiny pinnace. They’d reach us within a week’s time. We were to investigate cautiously until the destroyer arrived.

Rumbold watched me carefully when I received this news. “You know sir,” he said in a conspiratorially low voice, “we could just sit here and wait. We’ve surveyed half this snowball from a few meters above the surface. No one could claim we haven’t done our assigned task.”

I shook my head. “No,” I said firmly. “I’m going for a walk. I want Weaver and Yamada to join me. You stay at the boards to watch over us.”

“There are likely to be crevasses and the like,” he protested. “This slushy surface is unstable and dangerous. Let’s just send the probe—”

“You know as well as I do our probe is faulty,” I said.

Rumbold shrugged. “So? If it falls in the snow and gets sucked to the bottom, who’s to know? We’ll make our report, showing we did our best, and wait for
Altair
.”

On the surface of it, Rumbold’s suggestions made sense. His ideas were cautious and almost foolproof. All I had to do was drag my feet a little more, and we’d be cleared of all responsibilities.

But I wasn’t interested in shirking my duty. Far from it. I found it annoying, in fact, that others continually suggested I should do so.

“Tell Weaver and Yamada the three of us are exiting this ship,” I repeated more forcefully. “We’re going for a walk in one hour. Issue them spacesuits with the best integrity among those we have left.”

Releasing a heavy sigh, Rumbold stopped arguing and did as I’d ordered. Soon, he had the two spacers I’d requested dressed and prepped for the walk. They were all grumbling, but not loudly enough for me to overhear their specific words. That was acceptable in my book.

When the hour had passed, we climbed out onto the surface of the tiny, ice-crusted world. Yamada was slight and quiet. Weaver was the polar opposite, a loud, broad-shouldered man with opinions he couldn’t keep to himself.

I had no idea then that the three of us were about to change the fate of all humanity.

-12-

We were hip-deep in the slushy surface with the first step. The frost covering the rock was like the finest powdered snow imaginable back on Earth. Fortunately, the gravity was only a fraction of what we were used to. If we’d been heavier, we would have sunk in and possibly vanished.

“All right, hook up belts and keep vigilant,” I said. “We’ll start off tethered to the ship.”

“With any luck we’ll take that down too,” Weaver complained, “when we find a crevasse that’s deep enough.”

I’d brought Weaver along as he was one of the most muscular, physically capable people in my crew. He was quite young, compared to the majority, as was Yamada.

Unfortunately, he also had a big mouth. I’d known that, but I’d selected him anyway. I almost turned to reprimand Weaver, but I decided to let his comment pass.

My crew wasn’t made up of the easiest going people in the fleet. They’d been assigned to
Cutlass
as a form of neglect at best, a punishment at worst. They had a right to be annoyed.

Ensign Yamada brought up the rear of our three-person team. She was the closest thing we had to a biologist aboard
Cutlass
and the only other officer. She was essentially a medic with training in scientific instrumentation. Unlike most of my crew, her longevity treatments had kicked in early in life and she looked to be less than thirty years of age—although I knew she was older.

She had out a device in her hands that operated as a mobile sensor array. It didn’t have much range, but this rock wasn’t very large to begin with.

“I’m getting a reading off to our right,” she said. “A lower density area of snow.”

“Thinner?” demanded Weaver. “How can it be thinner? This is like swimming in cotton candy as it is!”

“General direction and distance, Yamada?” I asked.

“Two o’clock. Less than a hundred meters out, Skipper.”

I veered right and headed in the indicated direction. Weaver trudged after me. He was up to his chest at times and almost floundering. He was the heaviest member of the team, and the snow seemed to be hampering his movements the most.

“Can I ask you something, Captain?” he asked.

“Certainly,” I replied.

“Why are we heading toward a hole? When we get close, we’ll slide right in. You might not have been on small, ice-crusted rocks like this before. You don’t want to find the thin spot, let me assure you.”

“I understand your concerns, Weaver,” I said. “How far now, Ensign?”

“Another fifty meters should do it, sir.”

“How large is the affected area?”

She tapped at her instruments for a few seconds before answering. “Looks like it’s about ten meters around. Sir, it’s a perfect circle.”

Frowning, I almost halted. While still aboard
Cutlass
, we’d circled this entire rock multiple times, pinging it from space. But being down on the surface gave the instruments a different perspective. I didn’t recall a ten meter wide hole, filled with snow or not, but we might have missed it.

We moved forward another dozen steps then halted. I felt my way along every step now, nudging the snow aside and making certain I had firm footing before putting my full weight on each boot.

“Am I close?” I asked.

“Very.”

“I don’t see anything.”

“Take a look, sir,” Yamada said, struggling up next to me.

“Careful,” I said, not letting her pass my position.

Weaver came close too, and he forced his helmeted head in between the two of us to see the instrument.

The image was clear. Directly in front of us was a circular area of lower density snow. It was distinct, and it had a regular circumference.

“I don’t like it,” I said. “Unlimber the torch, Weaver.”

We’d brought along a drilling laser. It wasn’t much, but it was more than up to the task of removing thin ice.

“Step back, guys,” he said. “This will probably vaporize the snow with an explosive release.”

I stepped back with Yamada, and the two of us checked the lines that linked our belts to Weaver’s belt. We set our feet as he directed the torch toward the snow and lowered his outer visor.

When he powered up the device, our vision was immediately clouded by a gush of vapor. Within seconds, Rumbold was trying to contact me.

“Captain Sparhawk?” he demanded. “Are you all right, sir?”

“We’re fine,” I said, wiping steam and chunks of ice from my visor. “We’ve found a low-density area and we’re burning off the ice to take a look.”

“Is that wise, sir? This surface is unstable. You could—”

Overhearing Rumbold, Weaver had stopped operating his torch.

“I’m well aware of the dangers, Chief,” I said. “I thank you for your concern. Continue, Weaver.”

He shrugged his big shoulders and went back to work. After he’d worked for several minutes, I ordered him to halt. After a time, our vision cleared.

We stepped up to the lip of a circular hole and stared down into it.

“How can this be here?” Weaver asked.

“It’s a mining plug,” Yamada said. “A test hole drilled by a tug, probably.”

I nodded in sudden understanding. “The miners requested permission to exploit this object, but they apparently ran out of patience.”

“Yes. They’ve already started drilling. But there is a layer of fresh ice over the spot—that indicates they must have drilled this hole quite a while ago.”

“Either that,” Weaver suggested, “or they covered up their tracks. Look here!”

He stepped around the rim of the hole, which was several meters deep and perfectly circular in configuration. He plunged his gauntlet down into the snow and tugged, pulling an object up into our view.

“It’s a sensor-blot,” he said, bringing it to me.

“These are illegal,” Yamada said, examining the device.

It looked homemade. It was about the size of a man’s fist, and several small dish antennas sprouted from the central metal hub.

“That’s why we couldn’t see this hole from space,” Weaver said. “They didn’t want us to find it.”

“I’ve noted that criminals rarely wish to be discovered,” I said, examining the device. Using a tool from my belt, I switched it off and tossed it aside.

I stepped to the very edge of the hole. It had frosted up again almost immediately after Weaver had exposed it. I gazed into the find.

“The interesting question,” I said, “is why someone is working so hard to keep this spot a secret. Weaver, keep burning away the snow. I want to see what’s at the bottom of this hole.”

“On it, Skipper,” he said, shouldering forward and going to work.

I noticed both of them had changed in their attitudes. At first, they’d given the impression they were humoring their young commander. Now, they were paying full attention.

Weaver was working with purpose. He was as curious as I was.

Ensign Yamada, however, had become more cautious. She’d retreated a few steps to the limits of her tether and stood there, watching with a frown.

I walked to her side and we were able to see one another despite the geyser-like venting Weaver was sending into space with his torch.

“What’s the matter?” I asked her. “You seem worried.”

“Aren’t you? This is freaky. I don’t like this rock, and I don’t like the fact there’s a hidden hole on the surface of it.”

“It’s our job to investigate.”

“That doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

I chuckled. “Indeed it doesn’t.”

“Sparhawk?” called Weaver. “Come see this!”

Moving with careful hops, I joined him at the rim of the hole. The gases thinned and froze again, and I was soon able to see. A dark shape lay in the hole.

“Is that a discarded spacesuit?” I asked.

“Close,” laughed Weaver. “The suit’s occupied. It’s a body. I burned it slightly, sorry. Didn’t even see it until after I’d crisscrossed over the legs a few times.”

“My God,” Yamada said, coming closer and staring in with us. “Who is it?”

“Some rock rat,” Weaver said in disgust. “He screwed up. They usually don’t live long, you know. Not more than twenty years on average after leaving Earth. Even the people who are born out here only make it to thirty or so.”

“A dead man,” I said thoughtfully. “Way out here. Let’s get him out of that hole. We need to know how he died.”

I sent Weaver down to retrieve the body, which he did with ill grace. He complained for a time, claiming that the body was tethered, but he managed to cut the line and haul it out eventually.

The march back to the ship with the feather-weight body on our shoulders was less jovial than it had been on the way out. The corpse had been burned and disfigured by Weaver’s torch. I’d begun to wish I’d brought shovels instead of a laser to the site.

“Skipper?” Yamada said as we approached
Cutlass
. “I’m sorry, but I’ve been thinking.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t think we should bring the corpse into the ship.”

I halted. Weaver stared at us like we were crazy. “We’re almost back inside! Don’t stop now!”

“What’s the problem, Yamada?” I asked.

“It’s my job, as the senior science crewmember aboard, to warn you there could be contagion of some kind.”

“Oh come on,” Weaver groaned. “You just don’t want to do the autopsy. Admit it.”

“That’s not it,” she said, looking from one of us to the next, then back to the dead body we were carrying. “I just can’t recommend that we carry this person aboard.”

“Are you enacting protocol?” I asked her calmly.

She hesitated, then nodded. “I am.”

Weaver groaned aloud and dropped his half of the dead man we were carrying. The corpse fell stiffly into the snowdrifts.

“Very well,” I said, my attention fixed solely upon Yamada. “I require a clear statement of your reasoning, and I won’t hesitate to countermand it if it seems frivolous.”

“Understood, Captain,” she said. “Let me explain myself. This rock—it’s not normal. I don’t understand what’s going on out here, but I’m sure this is more than a comet or an asteroid. That’s point one.”

“Go on.”

“Further, we’ve had two deadly accidents. Jimmy nearly died, and this man was even less lucky. Both incidents have no clear-cut cause. Therefore, as is my responsibility, I can’t condone taking this body into the enclosed space of
Cutlass
and possibly exposing the entire crew to whatever killed this individual.”

I nodded thoughtfully, going over the regulations in my head. “Proven hazardous environment. Unknown dangers encountered… Yes, I see your point. We’ll leave the corpse outside. You can set up a tent on the ice to perform the autopsy.”

Yamada stood still for a moment in shock. “Sir?”

“You heard me. Weaver, get a survival unit out here. I’ll help you set up camp, Yamada.”

Weaver hooted and climbed into the ship’s airlock. He returned shortly with several packages. It took more than an hour to set them up, but once we’d done so, I sent Yamada into the tent to figure out what had happened to the corpse we’d found.

I wasn’t without sympathy. The look on her face was a mixture of disgust and shock. I doubted she’d participated in an autopsy since her days in training, and then she’d probably not been alone. But I wanted to know what had happened to the man we’d found.

After I learned the truth, I intended to head back to the spot where we’d found him and dig deeper into that hole. All the way to the bottom.