Chapter 4
The Sineater
Slicing through the water felt good, my body propelled by the jets in the soles of my boots.
I’d left the shuttle where I’d landed it, in the assigned coordinates, just like Mitnick had wanted.
Then I’d gone to the edge of the water and gone in, only a small amount of supplies strapped to my body, and Val curled around me in a protective layer of armor and oxygen.
I did not need any of the diving gear included on the shuttle, not for a small foray like this.
All I wanted was to find out what this strange extra signal was—so faint that it had not managed to reach beyond the planet’s atmosphere, faint enough that even the Varakartoom’s sensitive scanners had not picked it up.
I wondered if that meant it was old, a relic from a past society that had perished here.
It was easy to picture such a thing—we’d run into such a situation on Yiophus, after all.
If so, would the captain’s mate want to investigate?
I doubted Asmoded would let his human female set foot on a planet labeled as dangerous as this one.
Unless I found proof that it was perfectly safe, maybe.
Even so, she’d only recently given birth to their first child, and the captain had been feeling extra protective.
So had his adult son, Saisir, for that matter.
He’d been shadowing Mandy if Asmoded wasn’t with her.
She’d leaked delicious hints of frustration over that more than once.
The water was dark and deep, but I had the helmet light on my spacesuit to light the way, along with the readings from the handheld scanner to guide me.
The silver shape of Val amplified the glow of the light and cast it in a wider net around me.
Still, I saw no sign of life. Water plants swayed in the currents in a rough rocking motion, forcing me to adjust my course.
The current battered roughly against my ribs, and the long fronds of the water plants—a sort of kelp—tried to tangle around me.
That was about the only danger I encountered, even when I maneuvered between rocky outcroppings and gray-and-black organic protrusions, plants of some kind, coral but not.
It would have been the perfect environment for aquatic life to make its home in, but there was no sign of it, other than the flora.
The darkness grew deeper the farther I swam, and then there was a rapid drop in depth—a sea shelf ending in a steep cliff—and the signal was coming from the bottom of it.
I hesitated at the edge for a moment, because this was not part of my assignment.
Val felt strong, though, the two of us working cohesively together in ways we hadn’t in the weeks prior.
I tested her and found her excited to explore.
That decided it, and I spun, lancing down into the black depths below.
Any other diver would have issues with the pressure that much water would generate, but Val took care of all of that.
At first, I didn’t see anything when I reached the seafloor.
Just sand, some of it glittering like glass shards, most of it black.
Volcanic, perhaps. Shining my light around, I saw shapes and mounds, but those could be rocks or drifts of loose sand shaped by the currents.
The signal was right here, though; I was practically on top of it.
If it had been here as long as I suspected it might have, it was possible that it was buried.
I cursed silently—I didn’t much fancy digging around in the sand out here.
The spot felt…exposed, despite a stark wall of black rock rising at my back.
The dark water showed nothing, my light only reaching so far.
The sensor I held was my best tool now. I tweaked its settings until I got the vague impression of a shape beneath the sand.
It was big, and I began to have some idea of what I was dealing with: a spaceship.
The shape was distinct enough that it couldn’t be anything else, long hull, thruster bays.
It was not a sea ship or a submersible. This thing had flown; I was certain of it.
The question was, where had it flown from?
And if a signal was coming from it, did that mean someone was still alive aboard?
Or were these just the dying pangs of a slowly rusting wreck?
Only one way to find out. I checked my oxygen levels, determined they were sufficient for at least another hour, and began searching for a way in.
It didn’t take long; the ship’s layout wasn’t entirely unfamiliar, tickling at the edges of long-ago memories.
A hatch to an airlock was aligned along the side of the ship where I expected it to be.
I was in luck, too, it appeared the ship had rolled just a tad to its side as it had gotten buried in the sand.
The airlock was pointing diagonally up, and only a few minutes of digging uncovered the manual controls to open it.
I hesitated, then, because something about the door’s shape was definitely pulling on memories from a very long time ago.
Did it really matter? It was very unlikely anyone had survived this, whether I knew who they were or not.
The airlock hatch didn’t want to move as I yanked on it, possibly corroded with rust. I tested the surface with my fingers, but I was no Terafin metallurgist. I couldn’t know for sure until I opened it up.
Val tried to assist me as best she could, shaping herself into sharp, thin blades along my fingertips.
I dug them into the frame, and she thickened like wedges, it did the trick.
“Thanks,” I muttered, and she responded with something that felt like barbs stabbing into the back of my skull.
It was a feeling followed by instant guilt and contrition, so I knew she had not meant to harm me with her excitement.
“Don’t worry about it,” I told her, my focus on the interior I’d opened.
Sand was slipping in, large air bubbles escaping and slapping apart against my body.
I did not hesitate or wait; I slipped inside and yanked the airlock door shut against me.
It didn’t want to close with sand in between, but a little brushing, with Val’s help—quickly solved that problem.
I was enclosed in a small, dark room then.
The floor tilted sideways. Artificial gravity was on, and that made sideways feel like upright.
If the AG was functioning, the ship still had power, parts of it still functioned.
I tested that theory by searching the wall for a control panel.
The second, interior door would not open unless the water was pumped from the room.
The panel flickered to life when I pressed some buttons, and then I was confronted with standard UAR text blinking across the screen.
This was a human vessel. How had a human ship come to be here?
Unease flickered through my veins as I appraised the airlock once again.
With the light from the screen and my headlamp, there was plenty to see: a red cross indicated a panel with emergency medical supplies, and the door was labeled with a name.
The Lancing Light; that had to be the name of this vessel.
“What a mystery,” I muttered out loud. “What business would humans have on this planet?” The controls were simple and easy to read, and water began to pump from the airlock, swirling away through vents in the floor and along the walls.
Perfect, it still worked. This ship was in better shape than I’d assumed, given its buried status.
If it was human, it was very unlikely to be any kind of threat.
It was so buried, it could not go anywhere, and hadn’t for a long time.
Longer than Jalima had been alive. Curiosity got the better of me now, though; I wanted to know why it was here.
Once the airlock completed its sequence, breathable air filled the chamber.
Val slid back from around my helmet, exposing my face.
With a flick of a latch at my throat, the space suit helmet retracted as well, and I took a few deep breaths of slightly stale air.
“Scanner indicates no life forms and no pathogens,” I said, glancing at it before sliding it into a pocket on my thigh.
Val slid aside for access, then returned to her protective position.
I didn’t think she had any reason to worry.
The hallway beyond the airlock was dark, save for a few emergency lights glowing along the ground.
I craned my head left and right, but this was an Earth vessel, and I was certain I knew the layout.
I had not personally visited Earth back when I had lived in the Zeta Quadrant, but my Talacan family had visited its colonies.
I’d seen the insides of several UAR vessels in those days, before my time with the Sons of Ragnar had started.
During that rigorous training, I’d seen even more ships and memorized layouts and specifics like my life had depended on it.
“Bridge first, yes?” I drawled to Val, and her affirmative rang through my veins.
I strode down the hallway with confidence, searching the dark for any sign as to why this ship was here.
I reached the bridge with no issues and found it dark and abandoned.
It was tempting to check its computers right away, but even as invincible as Val made me, I was no idiot.
I wanted to check each room and deck first for any sign of life.
My scanner indicated none, but scanners could be wrong.