Salvage by MJ Kobernus

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.
    Jensen sniffed cautiously. He
was the first of his family in almost three hundred years to
breathe air not filtered through the Bitter Sea’s scrubbers. It was
disappointingly