Salvage

Near Orbit, Palsenz

Year 2387

The shuttle approached the larger ship's docking port slowly, performing an intricate ballet of trajectories and vectors, matching speed, angle and rotation until it mirrored the other vessel precisely.

"Argoss III, this is the shuttle Heimdal. Requesting permission to dock." First Officer, Stephanie Chu looked to the pilot and shrugged. "Still no response, Pål."

Captain Pål Knutsen acknowledged this with a nod. But he had his orders. Dock with the Argoss, and enable ingress for the salvage team. He triggered a burst from the central reaction control system, giving the shuttle a push sufficient to allow it to move slowly towards its vastly bigger host. With a clang that reverberated throughout the smaller vessel, the shuttle mated with the Argoss, its inexorable progress countered by the torsional and compression systems that absorbed most of the collision's impact. With a glance at the control panel, he saw that the Orbital Docking System indicated the seal was tight. All green. He flipped the comm channel open.

"OK, boys. You're clear to disembark."

Stephanie pulled her headset off. It floated away gently. Raising an eyebrow she said, "Boys?"

Her partner shrugged. "Just a figure of speech. You be careful, Steph. Make sure that seal is tight. I don't care what the panel shows." He gestured to the ODS which continued to give its electronic assurance that the docking ports were cleanly mated.

"I always am, Pål. Don't worry about me."

She quickly moved to the small hatch in the bulkhead behind them. Making good use of the handholds, she swung around and pivoted through the narrow opening, flying through with the speed of long familiarity. This put her in the central fuselage where the tech-engs from the Bitter Sea were waiting, already suited. The six men and three women were checking each other's EV suits, before tapping their partners' shoulders to indicate final approval. At zero gee, they could move easily in the heavy, articulated bodies, but they were bulky and cumbersome under normal grav conditions.

Stephanie punched the code for the airlock and a door slid open revealing a small chamber, just big enough to hold four of the suited figures at a time. The first group entered, some of them carrying silver cases containing the instruments and tools needed to assess the condition of the third colony ship; the ship that steadfastly refused to acknowledge their presence. She activated the close routine and the hatch slid shut silently. Watching through the tiny sight glass, she could see the expedition leader manually operate the docking port. The shuttle vibrated for a moment as the port dilated open, and the tech-engs passed into the airlock on the other side.

One of them turned before entering the Argoss, giving her a thumbs up gesture, then sealed the hatch behind him. The panel displayed a flashing green light. They were in. She repeated the process for the three remaining crew and watched as they too disappeared into what some people were already referring to as the ghost ship. She shook her head ruefully. Stupid to let rumour affect her like that. So the ship had suffered some kind of environmental disaster and most likely killed everyone aboard. That was no reason to start getting superstitious. And yet, she could not help shake the feeling that something was wrong.

                                                                                                   * * *

Inside the Argoss III, Officer First Class Jensen examined the external pressure and air sensor unit mounted on the sleeve of his suit. With a nod to the others, he started to unclamp his helmet. Quickly, they helped each other, hanging their suits in racks that lined the wall of the small chamber. In just a few minutes, nine heavy EVO suits slumped against the airlock wall.