The dot became a disc. The probe’s thrusters ceased firing; momentum and the pull of Jagabis’s gravity would complete the maneuver. The last leg of its approach would be conducted with as few emissions as possible.
The disc swelled steadily. A hazy atmosphere, rich in methane and sulfur, softened its edges. The hemisphere facing the probe was mostly in shadow, making details hard to discern, and Hintubet’s bloody glare in the background only complicated the matter. Roche watched as Kajic tried various enhancement routines on the image, methodically refining the picture.
“I can’t see the orbital tower,” Roche said.
“What’s that in the southeast quadrant?” Haid pointed. “Another crater?”
“No,” said the Box. “Remember the scale. An impact that large would have cracked the moon in two.”
“The COE maps have two methane seas listed,” said Roche. “That must be one of them.”
“It’s a little hard to make out at the moment,” said Kajic, “but I think you’re right, Morgan.”
“We’ll soon find out,” she said.
The moon expanded until its shadowed image filled most of the screen. Red sunlight glinted on an object in orbit around it, startling Roche until she realized that the telemetry data was still empty of signs of technological activity. An abandoned satellite, she guessed. Or wreckage. Whatever it was, it caught the light twice more before vanishing from view. Kajic’s display showed several other unidentified and inactive objects, invisible to her limited senses, also in distant orbits, and she followed them instead to pass the time. A similar display on Haid’s console revealed that he too was tracking them, ready to respond if one of them made any move at all—or showed signs of life.
The probe slid neatly into a geostationary orbit above Aro Spaceport and turned its instruments downward.
“Radar has located the main launch field,” said Kajic intently. “No other clear landmarks, yet.”
“The main dome?” asked Roche.
“I have something that might be an outline, but...” He shook his head. “It’s not clear. The dome might be down. There’s no way to be sure until the sun rises.”
“How long will that be?”
‘Ten minutes or so.”
“Try infrared,” she suggested. “If there are survivors, they’ll show up as hot spots.”
“I’m not finding anything, Morgan,” Kajic said after a moment. “It’s uniformly cool down there. Even the launch field.”
“No fires?” asked Haid. “Traces of explosions?”
“Aro has an atmosphere and weather,” said Kajic. “Excess heat will dissipate relatively quickly.”
“But there’s no evidence of the sort of damage we saw at Guhr Outpost, is there?” Roche studied the image on the main screen in detail, clutching at anything that would justify optimism. “There might still be a chance.”
“Underground,” said Cane.
“The main dome was fully exposed,” said Kajic. “In fact, it was built in the walls of an old crater, so it needed only a roof.”
“But the spaceport might have subterranean facilities,” said Roche.
“The only way to check would be to go down there.” Haid glanced around the bridge. “Any volunteers?”
“Let’s see if we can’t contact them first.” Roche swiveled away from the screen. “Uri, have the probe broadcast a brief message asking for ID. Use the ‘Quolmann’ code. There may be a connection between survivors here and the ship signaling us.”
“The people speaking the Sol command language?” asked Haid.
“Speaking it badly,” Cane put in.
“Whatever,” said Haid. “I’d be wary of letting them know we’re anywhere near them just yet—if they’re even there at all, that is.”
“I know,” said Roche. “That’s what the probe is for. Send the signal, Uri. Repeat it once.”
“Done.” Kajic’s image shifted within the hologrid. “And now we wait. We’ll see a reply in about five hours, if there is one.”
“Damn it.” Roche cursed the situation—and herself for forgetting the light-speed delay. “I guess that’s all we—”
“Hold it!” Kajic barked as something flashed across the screen. “The probe—something’s firing on it!”
Roche slaved her implants to the data-feed. The hazy radar outline of the spaceport jerked once, then disappeared entirely from view. In the visual spectrum, the view slued wildly as the probe fought to stabilize itself. Damage readings scrolled down the borders of her field of view, suggesting that the probe had been struck on one side.
“Uri? What the hell is—?”
“I’m getting a fix on something,” Kajic interrupted. The probe steadied, its cameras pointing toward the horizon of the moon. Light flashed from something metallic. “It’s a derelict.”
The view zoomed closer. The ship had once been a freighter, but now had a hole in its side that could have housed one of the Ana Vereine’s scutters. It was traveling in an orbit above and at right angles to that of the probe.
A cloud of escaping gas flowered briefly from the shadow of the ship’s hole. A second later, it happened again.
“I’m picking up very low electromagnetic readings,” said Kajic. “Almost undetectable. Hardly a life sign, and nothing like any weapon I’ve ever seen.”
The view jumped again. Red warning indicators began to flash in the probe’s telemetry display.
“I can’t tell what’s hitting it,” Kajic said with some frustration. “And neither can the probe.”
“Why isn’t it doing anything?” asked Haid.
“It doesn’t know what to do,” Kajic responded. “It can’t even run without knowing what it’s running from.”
Roche leaned forward as inspiration struck her. “Does the probe have anti-meteorite shields?”
“Of course; they’re standard in anything designed to travel at speed in-system—”
“What about when it’s not at speed’?”
“They shut down to conserve power...” Sudden understanding stopped Kajic short.
On the main screen, the probe’s cameras caught a glimpse of the derelict ship. Red sunlight flashed on its pitted hull more strongly than before. Dust was still puffing out of the shadow in its side, as regular as a metronome. Then the image shook and disappeared again, the probe clearly having difficulty maintaining its attitude with so much damage interfering with its systems.
“It’s a gas-gun,” Roche said. “Probably a chemical thruster modified to fire slivers of metal or plastic; they’re not hard to jury-rig. All that’s needed is a small amount of power to run a targeter or a receiver, and no one will ever know it’s there—until it’s activated, anyway. And then, before you know it, you’ve been hit by something with enough kinetic energy to punch a hole right through your hull.”
“The presence of the probe must have been enough to set it off,” said Haid, nodding. “Just being there. Imagine what would’ve happened if it had sent that signal.”
“Are there other derelicts in orbit?” Cane asked.
“I have plotted the orbits of at least a dozen small masses,” confirmed Kajic, “many in similar orbits to this one—high and at extreme angles to anything around the equator.”
“Thereby maximizing the relative velocities of the slivers,” said Roche.
“So it’s likely that all the derelicts are similarly armed,” Cane said.
“Why bother?” said Haid.
“It’s a trap, “ said Roche.
“But for whom?”
“For us, I guess.”
“No,” said Cane. “This would have taken time to prepare. There must have been another target.”
The probe shuddered again as another of the slivers struck it toward the rear. This time, the damage was severe. The feed died for a second before flickering back to life.
“We’re going to lose it,” said Roche, cursing under her breath.
“Soon, yes,” said Kajic. “But not immediat
ely. The probe knows it’s been profoundly damaged, but it has been programmed to complete its mission before allowing total shut down. See? It’s already changing orbit.”
Roche followed the changing telemetry data. “What was its mission, Uri? I thought it had already accomplished it by getting there.”
“Not quite. We needed to know what happened to Emptage City; that’s its ultimate objective.”
The probe’s trajectory steepened at a frightening rate, accomplished by the faltering push of its thrusters and the steady drag of Aro’s gravity. Roche fought the urge to grip her armrests as the atmosphere of the moon rushed toward the probe—and her, according to her senses.
Then clouds were sweeping past, red-tinged with sunrise. The radar image of Aro Spaceport expanded to meet her just moments after dawn broke across the surface of the moon.
Roche started slightly as the probe struck and the screen flashed with high-speed bursts of data. Then it went black.
“The feed has ceased,” said Kajic.
“What did we get?” Roche managed, breaking the link to her implants.
“A number of partial images,” the Box said. “I am reconstructing them for you now,”
The main screen scanned through a number of blurry views of the surface of Aro. The first three contained scenes that could have been anywhere—too dark to make out details—but the fourth was surprisingly sharp. It showed the landing field of Aro Spaceport with a resolution down to three meters.
There were three ships parked in its dry docks. All were lifeless and gutted, with black holes along their spines indicating that they had been fired upon from above.
“Orbital laser-fire,” said Haid. “Or bombardment of some sort.”
“Maybe more pieces of derelict ships,” Roche agreed. The field itself was pockmarked with circles—craters left behind from shots that had missed. The buildings of the landing field had been similarly destroyed.
“There’s nothing here,” she said. “Anything else, Uri?”
“One other clear snapshot,” Kajic said. “The probe managed a course-change before it crashed and flew over the edge of Emptage City. There’s just enough light to pick out fine detail.”
“Let’s see it.” The spaceport vanished. In its place appeared the curved rim of an eroded crater wall, its lip blackened and jagged. From the point of view of the probe, Roche was unable to make out the dome that had covered the colony.
“Can we see any closer?” she asked.
The crater wall rose to meet them as Kajic magnified the image.
“We were fortunate, in a way,” said Kajic, “that the sun had only just risen. The incident light was striking at such a low angle that shadows revealed details we would normally have missed from above.”
“I see them,” said Roche, her stomach sinking.
The shattered base of the dome stood out clearly in the image, as did the bases of the struts and girders that had once held it in place.
“He cracked it open.” Haid’s words were steeped in awe and disbelief.
“That’s all he needed to do,” said Roche. “He let the air out, and everyone died.”
“No,” said Cane. “See the area around the base of the dome? It’s blackened, as though by fire.”
“But it’s a methane atmosphere—” Kajic began, then stopped.
“Methane burns in the presence of oxygen,” Cane finished.
“He punctured the dome, then started a fire.” Roche could picture it all too clearly. “Then he left it to burn. It might have taken days.”
Roche detected a mental frown an instant before Maii’s voice intruded into her thoughts.
“Because he didn’t need to, Maii,” Roche explained. “The gas-guns in orbit would pick off anyone who managed to survive and get off-planet—along with anyone who tried to mount a rescue, for that matter. Before the dome over Emptage City finally collapsed, he was probably on the other side of the system, attacking somewhere else.”
“A very efficient strategy,” said Cane.
Roche glanced at him, but was unable to tell from his expression exactly what he was feeling. Approval? Admiration? Respect? She herself felt nothing but sickened by the cruelty with which the warrior had acted.
“What are the odds that someone could still be alive?” she asked of no one in particular.
“Minimal,” replied the Box. “There may still be airtight chambers in some of the buildings, or underground as Cane suggested; small numbers of people may have taken shelter within them. But how would we go about rescuing them?”
“The gas-guns are easily avoided—” Roche began.
“True. Without the element of surprise and against appropriate shields, they would be ineffective. We could even destroy the derelicts before assuming orbit, thereby neutralizing the threat entirely. But the problem lies in locating the survivors quickly enough to mount a rescue attempt—survivors who have no way to communicate with us and may not have even the most basic of pressure suits to survive exposure to the atmosphere. Any rescue attempt would be complicated, time-consuming, and risky.”
“With the Sol clone warrior still out there,” said Haid grimly. “Laughing at us.”
“Or hunting us,” the Box added. “We cannot allow ourselves to be distracted. Our mission is to track him down.”
“I know, I know.” Roche sighed. “I just feel we should at least try.”
“It’s an honorable thought,” said Cane softly, “but not one we can entertain at this moment. It’s what he will expect us to do. Perhaps later, when we have the time.”
Roche straightened in her chair, trying to regain the appearance of the staunch commander. “Perhaps. For now, though, we’ve lost our probe at Jagabis. Uri, how long until another can take its place?”
“A few hours.”
“Do it. I don’t want any blind spots.”
“Understood.”
She stood. “I’ll be in the captain’s office for a moment.”
Maii lightly squeezed Roche’s shoulder.
Roche considered arguing, but knew it would create a scene—and that was exactly what she was trying to avoid. She couldn’t meet Haid’s eyes as she and Maii crossed the bridge and entered the smaller chamber at its rear. When the doors slid shut behind them, Roche let herself sink into a padded chair aid put her head in her hands. Acutely conscious of Maii’s thin-boned hand on her shoulder, she drew a heavy veil across her thoughts.
To no avail.
They’re all dead...
Roche smiled to herself.
said Maii.
Roche removed the girl’s hand from her shoulder, and held it in her own.
help me, but COE Intelligence isn’t there issuing the orders for once, and that makes it so important not to screw up in any way at all...> She stopped, realizing that she was close to babbling, and sighed.
Maii said. Her face was expressionless but the waves of sympathy she offered were real.
Roche smiled.
With a fizz, a full-size image of Kajic appeared, standing opposite them with his hands respectfully behind his back.
“Apologies for intruding, Morgan. I have detected the emissions of a vessel on an intercept course with the relay probe we left to follow our previous course.”
Roche took a deep breath. “The ship that hailed us earlier?”
“I assume so. It’s still several million kilometers away, and I am unable to discern its class or origin, but I can tell you that it’s small. Maybe a mini-shuttle or singleship.”
“Occupied, I presume?”
“It is accelerating within the physical tolerances of a living being, yes.”
The ghost of a thought came from Maii:
It was with some unease that Roche realized that the Surin’s words echoed her own suspicions: A singleship. One person. Who else could it be?
“Send something to meet it. An armored—and armed—probe, this time.”
“To destroy it?”
“Not yet. Just to let the pilot know we’re not taking any chances.”
With a slight nod of acknowledgment, Kajic’s image disappeared, leaving Roche alone with Maii once more. She could feel the girl’s hand on her shoulder, but couldn’t decide whether the firmness of the grip was an attempt at reassurance or an indication of Maii’s own fears.
The Dying Light Page 10