In the Black Spaces

012: Cargo

The boarding party was a joint venture, with Prallas Fifthhorn leading the Narvorian contingent; Wraia leading hers. Technically a breach of protocol, but they were so far beyond what regulations accounted for now. She wanted to see with her own two eyes what was inside this thing, not watch it back over the cameras.

Mayeda and a security detail accompanied her in the launch, along with Chief Petty Officer Whitlock, and the young specialist, Yeoman Zellars. Ahead of them the Narvorian boarding craft led the way, a brutish anvil-shaped vessel packed with a retinue of heavily armed warriors.

She watched in silence as the boarding galley drew closer, the massive sphere of the alien space dock filling the viewscreen. It was more than two thousand kilometres across, and up close the evidence of weapon impacts was unmistakable. Deep rents and craters littered the outer hull, and she could see great fissures that dug deep into the inner structure. A seventh wrecked sphere-ship was hanging half out of one of the ruined launch bays, a cavernous hole gaping in its upper section.

But the station was still here. It had survived the battle, just.

"Clay," Prallas rumbled. "We enter. Follow close."

"Copy that," she answered, giving a small nod to her pilot. The galley eased closer to the flank of Prallas's ship as they passed into the yawning shadow of the intact launch bay. "Stand by for evasive manoeuvres. All barriers to maximum."

"Aye, ma'am," the man replied, his voice tight with unease.

Wraia waited for some kind of security measure – automated defences or barriers – but it seemed this place carried no such armaments. They passed inside without incident, and she gazed in amazement at the interior. Hundreds of circular passageways opened off from the main bay, together with at least fifty huge mooring clamps, each one bigger than the boarding galley. They snaked out from the walls – massive clawed umbilicals that glowed with a yellowish light.

"Readings?" she asked softly.

"Definitely reading a power source deeper within the structure," Zellars replied, the yeoman's eyes glued to her console, as though not wanting to confront the reality of what was currently showing on the forward cameras. "Energy signature doesn't match any Sol-Fleet specs. Readings get distorted towards the centre – probably a power core of some kind."

"How old do you think this thing is?" Mayeda murmured, examining the camera screens with a curious eye.

Wraia shrugged. "Impossible to say without testing."

"Old enough for those wrecks to settle into orbits and form a full ring around half the system," Whitlock interjected grimly. "So I'd say very old. Which means whatever's still powering this place must have a hell of a kick."

Pursing her lips, Wraia nodded as they drifted deeper in. Towards the rear of the bay she could see a larger passage cut into the centre of the wall, a space large enough to drive the whole shuttle through if they wanted to.

"There," she said, pointing. "That's our way in."

"Aye, ma'am."

"Navigator Fifthhorn, there's a main entry at the end of the bay. We should start there."

There was a moment of static on the comm, before Prallas answered. "Agreed." He didn't say anything more, but she saw the bulky Narvorian boarder shift its trajectory slightly, drifting downwards with manoeuvring thrusters pulsing.

"Stay with them, Ensign."

The pilot nodded, his hands precisely over the controls. She felt the faint kick of their own thrusters bringing them down into line with Prallas's vessel. Moving in a diagonal formation, they edged down towards a huge, flat lip of rocky prominence. It probably wasn't a landing pad, but it was large enough for them to use for that purpose. The scale of this whole place made Wraia's head spin.