‘One kilometre and closing,’ there was a hint of excitement in the voice, not surprising considering that the object they were approaching was more than just a lump of space debris.
‘I can’t find anything in the rule book about this kind of thing,’ remarked a fresh faced young man, his face lit by the display he was scanning. A simple message was evident on the display, not that the captain needed to look at it to see the words "No ruling matched with defined parameters". Keeping his own gaze fixed on the readings being fed to his central console he checked that everything was running smoothly before finally providing the young man with an answer.
‘Those regulations haven’t been updated, at least not in this sector. Besides, common sense dictates that any object drifting across established space lanes should be investigated and marked.’
‘Captain, the object was first registered by a private space dart. The crew managed to avoid it and I sincerely doubt that they have our training - we’re talking about amateurs. If they can spot it.’
‘Willis - have you ever crewed a freighter?’ The question was rhetorical, the captain knew the service records of everyone on board the patrol ship - including its newest and most eager member. He continued, hoping that Willis would reason things out for himself and that he wouldn’t have to wet nurse him through this tour of duty, ‘Freighters take their time to decelerate. Even if the scanners did register something the ship would probably be right on top of the object before anyone could even give the command to stop.’
‘Five hundred metres and closing, sir. Prepare for second brake burst.’
The captain glanced at his readouts, noted the ship’s velocity, distance from object and approach trajectory. The necessary manoeuvres had been made, as per the instructions he had given half an hour before when they had been informed about the object.
He felt a slight increase in his weight as the ship applied another braking burst, decelerating them even further. It would take another ten minutes to match the speed and trajectory of the object, and then they would have to use the manoeuvring thrusters to help them align their ship for docking. In all it would be another fifteen minutes before they could check out the other ship.
The captain reviewed the log so far, of the original notification that an object was drifting across the space lanes. Willis had accurately pointed out that the private vessel had been crewed by amateurs, according to their report the object had nearly collided with them. When the patrol ship had been alerted of this space hazard they had instantly set course for the object. Their own scans had determined that the object was a ship and that it was drifting. It had shown no signs of powered flight and there was no ion trail or any indication of recent propellant use. In short, the object had been drifting in one direction and the only reason the space dart had nearly collided with it was quite simply that the crew must not have noticed until the computer had issued a proximity warning.
Further scans had determined that the ship was not of familiar registry. Of course, that meant little in itself. Their own world was a newly established colony and had spent a lot of time ensuring that it did not cease the ability to be a space faring world. Their only real contact with sister worlds was whenever patrol ships reached the boundary of their sector and happened to come within range of a patrol ship in another sector, or if they encountered one of the larger ore miners with its asteroid in tow. Any new ships constructed by the older colonies were hardly likely to be displayed in some bulletin, even if they did pay attention to such a thing.
If it was a ship from some new race there were two implications to be made. One: it was drifting as a consequence of being involved in some war. It was important that they determined this straight away. As a new colony they would probably have to contact distant Earth, requesting help against any attacker - and that help might arrive too late.
Two: first contact with any new race was something that many people still dreamed of, and Captain Daker was no exception. Even if the crew of the ship were dead, which seemed likely given the lack of any propellant trail - it had evidently been drifting for some time, they could attempt to determine an approximate point of origin by charting the line along which it had drifted. The Terran empire would do the legwork, but the discovery would be his - as would the glory. It would also reflect well upon the colony.
The ship’s computer would be gathering as much information as it could about the derelict, even to making a backward projection of its course.
‘Lining up for docking, captain.’
‘Scan the ship for activity,’ the captain ordered, although the ship had remained inactive during their initial scans and subsequent approach, procedures and common sense dictated that they check the ship to make absolutely sure. New colonies were seen as easy prey by some of the nastier space drifters, Locusts, as they were known, people who lived between the stars and who existed by preying on others. Locusts tracked colony vessel convoys, waited for the right moment and descended. Worlds which had held a promise for new life were stripped of the resources which made the difference between a bountiful future and a desperate struggle for survival.
Of course, the ship was unlike anything recorded, but the Locusts were no respecters of property - even if it was First Contact potential. Another notch in their notorious belt of crime.
‘Still no lifesigns, captain. No power build-up, nothing, sir. The ship is inactive.’
‘Prepare for docking, is the boarding team ready?’ Daker looked across at Willis who replied in the affirmative. Everything was ready, with no activity from the ship there was little chance that it could be a trap. Locusts tended to be impatient. Of course, there was always the possibility of new tactics - such as an ambush party waiting at the airlock or deeper inside the ship. The fact that they were registering no lifesigns meant little - it was possible to shield body heat and electrical activity, even for Locusts. Daker smiled, he knew that the boarding party had a few tricks up its sleeve. This wasn’t some amateur operation with eager beavers ready, willing and able to stomp their way into unexplored territory and trust to luck.
‘Willis, put me through to Holmes.’
‘Yes, sir,’ Willis threw a switch and then began to speak into his throat mike. Nodding he turned to the captain, ‘Lieutenant Holmes on line, sir.’
‘Holmes, usual procedure. We are not picking up any signs of activity or life, but take things carefully. Captain out.’
If there was one thing the captain really wanted right now it was to be a member of the boarding party. If this was the first stage of a First Contact situation he was about to sit back and let someone else be first aboard. Much as he wanted to usurp Holmes, there was a protocol to be followed. On a more cynical note, he thought, if there was any danger Holmes would be right in the thick of it. This thought was not born of animosity, it was simply an understanding of the vagaries of life.
‘Docking completed, captain. The seal is perfect.’
The captain nodded, flipped a switch and advised Holmes that he could now board. In an age old gesture he crossed his fingers and hoped that he would not have to face Holmes’ next of kin trying to explain the tragedy that had befallen him.
Holmes checked the seals on the spacesuited figure standing in front of him, just as someone was checking the seals on his suit. Everybody gave the thumbs up to indicate that each person in the four man group was now contained in his own humanoid sized environment.
At the press of a button the inner airlock door opened and all four entered the chamber beyond. It was a slight squeeze for all four of them, but Holmes was determined to have a full boarding party. He was sure that the captain shared his concerns about this being some Locust ruse. If anyone tried to start scavenging his home world and think they could begin with a trap on board some derelict spaceship then they were in for one hell of a surprise.
A chime signalled that the pressure within and without the airlock had equalised. The boarding tube, which was attached to the side of the other ship would provide a shirt sleeves environment but it never paid to take anything for granted in the vacuum of space.
The outer door opened and two men, pre-designated, moved forward along the boarding tube. When they reached the end they hooked up a computer to the other ship’s door and let it do its work, hopefully to find a way to open the door.
Holmes was both surprised and ready to act when the door began its open cycle within a minute of attaching the computer. As soon as the crack was large enough he launched a Murk grenade through the door. His men were already altering the visual mode of their visors before the grenade let loose its vision-suppressing spray.
The two men in the lead carefully made their way through into the other ship. There was still no sign of life, but they maintained the cautious approach, always ensuring that even something sighted peripherally was not a matter for concern.
It took the better part of half an hour before Holmes concluded that the ship was not some scavenger trap.
‘Everything is secure, captain. We have found a number of sealed containers, from the low temperatures we’re reading I would hazard a guess that they are cryogenic storage capsules. There’s nothing else here to indicate what they might be.’
‘Can you thaw them out?’
There was a slight hesitation before Holmes answered, ‘In my opinion captain there are two reasons for not thawing out these capsules. The first one is that I believe we need to get them to a secured location, in case their contents prove inimical to humanity, the second is that I don’t think we can just flick a switch.’
The captain glanced around his bridge crew. If they forged ahead and defrosted some never-before encountered species only to botch the job up, their names certainly would go down - in infamy.
‘Very well, Holmes, leave a skeleton team over there.
‘Willis, prepare for towing. Let’s take this thing home and hope that its friendly.’