by Karl Beecher
Ade stopped and lifted the lid of the tray. On it sat a glass of luminous purple juice and a plate of chopped fruit and vegetable arranged into colour-coordinated, millimetre-perfect rows. “Some pepjuice and a small selection of your favourite appetisers.”
Tyresa just tapped her hand compulsively on the table. She couldn’t not go there, right? That’d be like leaving a stone unturned. Sure, there might be a stingroach beneath it rather than an artifact, but she just had to know.
“Would I be correct in venturing that something is troubling you, ma’am?”
“Look at this.” Tyresa thrust a finger into the three-dimensional projection, pointing at a little yellow dot buried among two dozen floating points of light. “The information we got, right? This is where the coordinates point.”
A readout of the star system popped into view alongside the little dot. Ade glanced over the information: an isolated, uninhabited system with no settlements and no signs of life. Just a bunch of lifeless rocks and gas balls orbiting an unremarkable sun.
“Indeed,” he said. “Hardly likely to house any artifacts. One cannot help noticing that the system in question also lies across the border.”
What he meant was this system, while only a couple of light-years away, lay in Transhacker territory. Tyresa’s ship meanwhile remained on the edge of friendly space, as close to the border as she dared go.
“I thought you’d notice that,” she said. “Did you re-align the power couplings?”
“Yes, ma’am. Long-range sensor capacity is increased twelve percent.”
“Good. That should give us some extra warning time.” She finally looked up from the map and saw the tray. “Oh, you brought snacks.”
Ade raised an eyebrow. “Indeed, ma’am.”
Tyresa bit into a stick of ‘posh carrot,’ a genetically-engineered vegetable that secreted its own dip when bitten into. Garlic and chilli this time. Nice. Ade knew she preferred strong flavours when hot on the trail.
“If I may observe, ma’am,” said Ade as he set the tray down, “it would very much appear you have decided to visit this star system.”
“Of course,” she mumbled with a mouthful of carrot.
“Is that wise, ma’am?”
“Oh, don’t start all that again, Ade.”
“I do not wish to be remiss in my duties—duties which include ensuring your safety.”
“I am being careful, aren’t I? The adjustments you just made to the sensors will give us extra warning time.”
“All of thirty seconds, ma’am.”
“Every second counts in space, Ade. Don’t worry, our source is a reliable man. I’ve done business with Jon before.”
“A man who I believe is also known as ‘Slippery Jon’ throughout the galaxy…”
“You can’t judge a man by his nickname.”
“…and has outstanding arrest warrants in six star systems.”
Tyresa stuffed the rest of the carrot into her mouth and gave Ade a piercing stare. Technically, he was right, but he lacked her instincts. That’s why she was in charge. “Look, I know what I’m doing,” she said finally. “How many times have we been on the trail before? Besides, I can’t tell if the artifacts’ there without actually going, can I?”
“True, ma’am. Although you do have the choice regarding whether or not to obtain permission to visit this star system. Transhacker patrol vessels are under general orders to treat unauthorised visitors with certain… hostility.”
As ever, Ade piled on the understatement. They both knew that Transhacker ships generally operated on a ‘shoot first, ask questions, then shoot some more’ policy.
Ade continued, “Respectfully, ma’am, you could try requesting authorisation to visit.”
“Ah, no way, who knows how long that would take? Besides, you know the Transhackers, they’d never authorise it. Much better to slip quietly in and out without disturbing anyone.”
“It is not my place to judge, ma’am…”
“Correct.”
“… however, if I may be so bold as to quote Professor Phrizbott’s appraisal of your methods…”
“Ade…”
“… as ‘less look before you leap, more flounder after you fu—’”
“Ade, you know better than to quote the ‘good Professor’ to me. You know what it does to my mood.”
“My apologies, ma’am.”
“My mind is made up. We’re going. Courage, Ade, courage is what you need. Lay in a course and engage at full speed.”
“Very good, ma’am.”
Ade left her staring at the map. The large expanse of hostile territory between her and her destination stared back. She had to admit, there was a fair bit of distance to cover.
She coughed, trying to sound nonchalant. “But, uh, don’t take your eyes off the sensors, right?”
9
Travelling through space is usually uneventful.
This shouldn’t be surprising, the universe being so inconceivably vast and empty. The chances of going through space in a straight line and encountering anything more interesting than a hydrogen atom are so remote that anything happening to cross your path very likely wants your attention.
Since Tyresa didn’t want to attract any attention—be it from a curious hydrogen atom or anything else—she was grateful nothing had crossed her path throughout the journey. The hours had ground by. Ade had dutifully monitored the sensor read-outs. Tyresa had paced up and down the bridge.
At one point, a D3-class meteor passed close by1, but as the ship neared its destination, Tyresa could claim the journey as entirely incident-free.
Ade looked up from the navigation console. “Dropping to sub-light, ma’am.”
Tyresa slouched in a chair by the map table, which now served double duty as the projector of the holographic map and Tyresa’s footrest. She smiled. While she wasn’t one to crow, it was nice being proved right. “I told you, didn’t I? Slip quietly in, no trouble at all. And now we’ve done it. You’ve no faith, Ade, that’s your trouble.”
“I concede that, ma’am, although I have little use for faith. But if I may say so, your conclusion of success is perhaps a little premature. Our journey is not complete. We have yet to ‘slip out’ as you might say.”
“Piece of cake,” she said with a swipe of her hand. “We in visual range yet?”
“The planet should now be visible at maximum zoom, ma’am.”
Tyresa punched up an image of the planet on the map table: a great, round ball in space, its surface completely hidden by a layer of swirling, yellow cloud. Shit, not another dead, hostile planet! She’d hoped for something easier than this.
The ship soon closed to a few hundred thousand kilometres and Tyresa walked over to the bridge viewport to see it with her own eyes. It loomed large in the window. The epitome of a tortured, lifeless world.
“I dunno,” she muttered to herself. “Now I look at it, it really seems an unlikely place to find an artifact.”
Ade heard her nonetheless. “My thoughts exactly ma’am.”
But this was no reason to give up now. “All right, let’s not waste time. Get an atmospheric analysis.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Ade turned to an adjacent console and began the work. The ship’s sensors kicked into life and bathed the planet’s surface with signals: spectrographic analyses, chemical signals tracers, radiation detection, the works. “Results coming in now, ma’am.”
Tyresa moved over to Ade’s console to see for herself. Rows of figures scrolled up the screen. No surprises: high-pressure atmosphere mainly a mixture of carbon dioxide and sulphur compounds, high-speed winds, scattered corrosive chemical rains. The background radiation levels were a little high, but otherwise, the surface looked deader than a mass suicide at a funeral parlour. Hardly an encouraging sign. She feared she was going to walk away from this one empty-handed.
But not without trying first. “Switch to short-range, deep scans. Comb the surface. We’re looking for anomalous readin
gs.”
“Location, ma’am?”
“Planet-wide.”
“The whole surface? You mean, ma’am, Slippery Bob did not supply us with a location in which to search?”
Tyresa shifted, trying to hide her embarrassment. “Not as such, no…”
“I see.”
“… but he did say he was pretty sure it was in the northern hemisphere.”
“The northern hemisphere?”
“Yes.”
“Ma’am, the northern hemisphere of this planet is approximately a quarter of a billion square kilometres in area, and we are uncertain what we are looking for.”
“You know, Ade, when you say it like that, you make it sound like this expedition is ill-thought-out.”
“Heaven forbid, ma’am.”
“This is my job, you know. I’ve found hundreds of artifacts across the galaxy before, often with less to go on than this.”
“My apologies, ma’am, I did not mean to cast doubt on your abilities.”
“I’d say this might be a good time you started to learn the value of faith, Ade.”
“As you say, ma’am.”
“Now, continue scans. I’ll let you know when I find what I’m looking for.”
Tyresa could afford to act big in front of Ade. It was true she was a successful hunter of artifacts. In fact, she’d built up a reputation as one of the best. But her assured exterior shielded a constant, nagging doubt. Truth was, she suspected her archaeological ‘method’ consisted of one part science, one part detective work, three parts groping in the dark and about eight parts blind luck.
It happened so often. She’d begin a job by carefully and methodically following the data. But then she’d snatch impulsively at a promising clue, rush in, see things start to go wrong, curse herself for acting too rashly, and then wind up finding her treasure after all. She didn’t know whether she was just lucky or actually talented in ways no-one (including her) could figure out. Most of the time, she settled for being talented. But occasionally—like now—she worried to herself that it was all luck and that the next job would be the one where her luck ran out.
Tyresa struggled to suppress these thoughts as she watched the scan data come in. The ship had entered orbit, and the short-range sensors were combing the planet’s surface. The raw data filled the console screens. Tyresa poured over the figures looking for… well, anything. Some as-yet-undefined bit of suspect data that pointed to a… something that shouldn’t be there.
After two complete orbits, Tyresa’s gnawing doubt had grown into biting panic. Her muscles had grown tense, and she had begun to wonder whether she should call off the hunt. She didn’t dare do it yet. Fucking pride.
She ordered a third pass, keeping one eye on the scan data and another on the long-range sensors looking for enemy blips. She almost hoped that a Transhacker ship would appear and force her to flee. It would at least give her something to blame for leaving empty-handed.
As the third orbit neared completion, she began to wonder what the hell to do next. Then something on the console caught her eye.
“Wait,” she snapped. “What was that?”
“Ma’am?”
She pointed to one of the line graphs, which contained a series of odd-looking peaks. “The EM scans. What are those spikes?”
Ade tapped the graph to bring up more detail. “Cause uncertain, ma’am, but it’s rather unusual. It appears that among the normal background readings for this planet, there’s a regularly-timed spike in microwave radiation localised around one tiny area.”
“Microwave radiation?”
“Yes, ma’am. Very faint, but definite and occurring in precise one-second bursts.”
“What could be causing regular bursts of microwave radiation on a dead planet?”
“Probably nothing naturally occurring, ma’am.”
A smile grew across Tyresa’s face. The tense muscles in her chest and shoulders relaxed, deflating her like a balloon. A balloon that was awesome at archaeology. “Oh ye of little faith, my friend. You know I hate to say I told you so…”
“Others may dispute that, ma’am.”
“… but consider that a lesson in the value of faith.”
“While I am grateful for the lesson, ma’am, forgive me if I stay my conviction until we ascertain exactly what has been found.”
“Then let’s find out. What do you think—can we land?”
“If history is a reliable guide, ma’am, I would venture you have already decided to land and asking my opinion is a mere formality.”
“I’m aghast, Ade,” she replied with mock outrage. “I always consider your opinion.”
“And if I were to recommend against landing?”
“I’d note your recommendation in the ship’s log.”
“You don’t keep a ship’s log, ma’am.”
“You catch on quickly.”
“I see. Landing is possible, but I do urge caution. The planet’s atmosphere contains high concentration of particulates and acidic compounds. They could cause damage to our landing thrusters.”
“There, you see? Your opinion was considered.”
“Did it have any effect?”
Tyresa smiled at him. “Buckle up and prepare the ship for landing.”
“Very good, ma’am.”
Moments later, the ship began its slow descent into the sickly yellow clouds below. It held up admirably against the battering of the planet’s atmosphere. In fact, the ship made it halfway towards the surface before the landing thrusters went wrong.
10
Ade’s voice crackled through the speakers in Tyresa’s helmet, but the howling wind drowned out his voice.
“I told you, Ade,” she yelled, “you’ll have to speak up. I can barely hear you out here.” Her voice echoed around the helmet’s interior. She sounded like her head was stuck in a fishbowl.
“I said,” he repeated, louder but somehow still graceful-sounding, “do you see anything now, ma’am?”
She cursed as she slipped again on the rocky ground.
“Nope, not a thing.”
She was examining one of the starboard thruster jets, a metallic block the size and shape of an industrial waste bin, one of several mounted on the underside of the ship. Ade was still on board. He was on the bridge, trying to get the faulty jet to fire. Although surrounded by the blustering, yellow mists of the planet’s atmosphere, Tyresa should still have been able to see thin jets emitting from the thruster outlet.
Ade spoke again. “It would appear that the primary intake manifold has been damaged and lodged shut. I fear my predictions about this planet’s atmosphere were accurate. Might this be the appropriate juncture to remark, ‘I hate to say I told you so,’ ma’am?”
“Shut up, Ade…”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“… and tell me if we can take off again without it.”
“Assuming you wish me to cease shutting up, ma’am, take-off with just one thruster out of operation should cause no major problems. However, given this planet’s volatile atmosphere and the possibility of losing further thrusters in the process, I would highly recommend effecting repairs.”
“Is it a big job?” asked Tyresa.
“No, ma’am, relatively straightforward.”
“Then it shouldn’t take you long to fix.”
“Indeed, ma’am. On my way.”
“Keep the channel open, Ade. I’ll be gone by the time you arrive.”
“Understood, ma’am. Might I inquire as to your immediate plans?”
“I’m going to check out that microwave source. I’ve got a reading on it, only about a hundred metres away.”
“Then please do be careful ma’am. One hundred metres is beyond the range of visibility in this atmosphere.”
“Yeah,” said Tyresa, turning away from the ship and looking out at the wall of yellow around her. “I can kinda see that.”
She looked at the ground underfoot. Brown slabs of bare rock stretched off
about twenty or thirty metres in all directions before getting lost in the thick, mustard-coloured fog. Nothing else was visible. The planet looked like some macabre, unfinished painting produced by an artist going through their yellow period. She’d seen harsher environments, but not many. This was going to be a challenge, and not in a good way.
Tyresa reached to her suit’s utility belt and pulled out the scope, a multi-purpose hand-held scanner that measured the surrounding environment. It was the larger excursion model, designed to be used by hands covered in thick, cumbersome gloves as Tyresa’s were now. Everything on it was oversized and extra-colourful, making it look like military equipment built for toddlers. It pointed in the direction she needed to go.
She stepped gingerly away from the ship as though she were walking bare-legged into an icy cold lake. She looked down at her feet, clad in the grey boots of her survival suit. It would be best to watch where she was stepping. The ground looked flat and solid enough, but a sudden collapse or seismic event could bring this expedition—along with her life—to a premature halt.
After a few steps, she turned around to snatch another glance at the ship. The swirling mist had already rendered it little more than a dark shadow. An icy feeling ran up her spine. The last time she’d done an excursion in soup like this was with a couple of colleagues, but it felt very unsettling to do it alone.
No point dwelling on it, she thought to herself. The ship’s not going anywhere. The scope will guide me back.
She turned back, took a deep breath, and kept going, gripping the scope tightly in her hand. Eighty metres to go. Seventy. Sixty.
A sudden, powerful gust of wind struck Tyresa. Her foot landed on some loose stone; she slipped and tumbled to one side, the scope flying from her hand.
Shit!
Reflexes took over. It was a tough little thing, but she didn’t want to take any chances. She thrust out her other hand to catch the scope before it hit the rocky ground. That left her without an arm to cushion her fall.
Her shoulder struck the ground with a thud.
Fuck. That. Hurt.
She sat up and checked everything. Survival suit: no damage. Scope: still working. Shoulder: hurting like hell, but nothing broken.