alone at that hospital, Bean. That’s all. I’m not a self-absorbed prick all the time, you know.”
“Captain, I had not previously detected this level of sensitivity in you. Perhaps instead of taking off, I should have run you a hot bath?”
The star Tireca took up most of the front viewport. Blue-green solar prominences flared off the sun’s surface as gossamer threads of glowing plasma. The nanites embedded in the four-centimeter-thick smart-glass automatically polarized so as not to blind Bean’s occupant. Gerald shielded his eyes. Even with the polarization, the view was almost too bright.
“What do you make of a colony ship being this far off course?”
“A faulty guidance system would be my first guess,” Bean replied.
“Right. Because it’s impossible to know when you’re headed into a sun.” Gerald scratched one stubbly cheek. “Bean, we’ve done strange salvage runs before. Some really weird shit. But something about these last two has rubbed me a little funny. Call it a gut instinct.” Gerald yawned. He remained trapped in a maze of cotton-skulled exhaustion. It had been one thing after the other since he landed two days ago. Two days? Gerald thought. Is that really all? Feels like two weeks .
“I won’t ask why, Captain. I confess. I do not understand the human gut instinct. Will you cancel your contract with Kendall?”
“I don’t think that’d be a good idea. Another gut instinct. Kendall’s not the type to let contractors terminate their own work orders.”
The ship began to slow.
“Bean?”
“We are approaching the limit of my hull’s heat tolerance.”
Gerald looked over at the radar overlay and then out at the mottled blue brilliance that filled the viewport.
“The colony ship is,” Gerald checked a display, “twenty-five hundred meters off. The retrieval line won’t reach that far.”
“I can fire the drones to haul it within tug range.”
“And what’s the chance that the drones will survive the heat?”
“Better than your own chance at survival if you return to Crescent without that ship.”
Gerald laughed.
“Bean, your capacity for humor in the face of adversity amazes me.”
“I wasn’t joking, Captain.”
“Yeah, yeah. Go ahead, launch the drones. That’s why I have’m ,” he said, and then added, “They’re on their last leg anyway.” Still, Gerald felt little comfort.
Gerald called up four holographic overlays, each representing cameras mounted on each of Bean’s drones. Each individual overlay was quartered, showing infrared, x-ray, microwave, and visible spectrum views. The colony ship appeared as a dark hulk against the hot, blue backdrop of massive Tireca . Gerald switched the visible spectrum camera to manual operation and began cycling through the polarization filters until the view became crisp. There it was. A floating, bloated mass of slag in a degrading orbit. The metal was glowing, almost white from the heat. It looked more like a terminal asteroid than a ship.
“Bean. Did you pick up any lifeboat beacons?”
“Negative, Captain. No indication that lifeboats had been launched.”
Gerald sighed and cursed under his breath.
“These ships carry easily two hundred passengers and you’re telling me not one got off? How the hell could this have happened? What were they doing going toward the sun?”
“A bad sub-light drive?” Bean offered.
“It sucks. That’s what. Hook up the tethers the best you can when the drones haul that thing in. If they manage to haul it in.”
Several minutes went by before Bean spoke up again.
“The drones have successfully latched onto the salvage. They are on their way back. Five hundred meters and closing.”
“Whatever. Just tether the colony ship and take us back to Crescent.” Gerald’s mood was only worsening. The longer they were out there, the more he felt like hitting someone.
Twelve hauling tethers uncoiled from Bean’s belly with serpentine grace. Gleaming, the lines
“Captain, I had not previously detected this level of sensitivity in you. Perhaps instead of taking off, I should have run you a hot bath?”
The star Tireca took up most of the front viewport. Blue-green solar prominences flared off the sun’s surface as gossamer threads of glowing plasma. The nanites embedded in the four-centimeter-thick smart-glass automatically polarized so as not to blind Bean’s occupant. Gerald shielded his eyes. Even with the polarization, the view was almost too bright.
“What do you make of a colony ship being this far off course?”
“A faulty guidance system would be my first guess,” Bean replied.
“Right. Because it’s impossible to know when you’re headed into a sun.” Gerald scratched one stubbly cheek. “Bean, we’ve done strange salvage runs before. Some really weird shit. But something about these last two has rubbed me a little funny. Call it a gut instinct.” Gerald yawned. He remained trapped in a maze of cotton-skulled exhaustion. It had been one thing after the other since he landed two days ago. Two days? Gerald thought. Is that really all? Feels like two weeks .
“I won’t ask why, Captain. I confess. I do not understand the human gut instinct. Will you cancel your contract with Kendall?”
“I don’t think that’d be a good idea. Another gut instinct. Kendall’s not the type to let contractors terminate their own work orders.”
The ship began to slow.
“Bean?”
“We are approaching the limit of my hull’s heat tolerance.”
Gerald looked over at the radar overlay and then out at the mottled blue brilliance that filled the viewport.
“The colony ship is,” Gerald checked a display, “twenty-five hundred meters off. The retrieval line won’t reach that far.”
“I can fire the drones to haul it within tug range.”
“And what’s the chance that the drones will survive the heat?”
“Better than your own chance at survival if you return to Crescent without that ship.”
Gerald laughed.
“Bean, your capacity for humor in the face of adversity amazes me.”
“I wasn’t joking, Captain.”
“Yeah, yeah. Go ahead, launch the drones. That’s why I have’m ,” he said, and then added, “They’re on their last leg anyway.” Still, Gerald felt little comfort.
Gerald called up four holographic overlays, each representing cameras mounted on each of Bean’s drones. Each individual overlay was quartered, showing infrared, x-ray, microwave, and visible spectrum views. The colony ship appeared as a dark hulk against the hot, blue backdrop of massive Tireca . Gerald switched the visible spectrum camera to manual operation and began cycling through the polarization filters until the view became crisp. There it was. A floating, bloated mass of slag in a degrading orbit. The metal was glowing, almost white from the heat. It looked more like a terminal asteroid than a ship.
“Bean. Did you pick up any lifeboat beacons?”
“Negative, Captain. No indication that lifeboats had been launched.”
Gerald sighed and cursed under his breath.
“These ships carry easily two hundred passengers and you’re telling me not one got off? How the hell could this have happened? What were they doing going toward the sun?”
“A bad sub-light drive?” Bean offered.
“It sucks. That’s what. Hook up the tethers the best you can when the drones haul that thing in. If they manage to haul it in.”
Several minutes went by before Bean spoke up again.
“The drones have successfully latched onto the salvage. They are on their way back. Five hundred meters and closing.”
“Whatever. Just tether the colony ship and take us back to Crescent.” Gerald’s mood was only worsening. The longer they were out there, the more he felt like hitting someone.
Twelve hauling tethers uncoiled from Bean’s belly with serpentine grace. Gleaming, the lines
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