going to set to,” continued Matheson, a minute or two later and speaking over the open frequency. He seemed more relaxed. “Clock starts now, four hours maximum. For the record, we seem to be in a relatively cool area; outside probes are indicating an average of two hundred and thirty degrees Celsius. But we flew through a much hotter zone. Maybe that’s why the lava state was unpredictable, not fully solidified. We are setting suit-conditioning to ninety-one per cent, which gives us some additional flex. Precise location is . . . cross-coordinate two, two, five. We’re on the edge of the North West landing sector. Crystal site is five hundred metres south-east. I’ll transmit a sitrep in twenty minutes. Put the coffee on up there . . . Matheson out!”
Duval breathed a huge sigh of relief. That was the cue for everyone else on the bridge to follow suit. Alex forced a smile.
Rose broke the ensuing silence. “Commander, I need you to look at this. Now please. There’s no mistake. I’ve switched to the standby radar scanner and I’m still getting the same contact reading. We have a blip – directly astern at three thousand metres. Whatever it is – and it’s relatively small – it is coming this way at ten metres per second and reducing.”
Duval heard the resolve in her voice. As impossible as it seemed, Rose was reporting an intruder. A strange chill descended over the bridge – intruders usually meant trouble. Duval quickly stepped over to Rose’s circular display and Alex followed him. Rose pointed to the tiny blip on the screen. Duval waited for the track of the scanner to sweep the object again. He stared almost unbelieving as the next pass enhanced the object’s elongated saucer-like shape. With another sweep the blip moved inexorably toward them. Duval’s eyes narrowed. He turned and nodded at Alex. “Confirmed at one thousand metres,” he said, bluntly. “Whatever it is, we should be able to see it any moment now.” He looked back at the screen and then up at Rose. “We are not expecting any replenishment vessels from Earth are we . . . anybody? Am I missing something here?”
None of the bridge crew responded. Some shook their heads. Alex shrugged – he was totally at a loss.
Duval paused thoughtfully. His mouth twitched. “Okay. Press the button. Go to manoeuvre alert status and security state three, just in case the Federation has planned a docking that we are not party to as yet. Close all pressure bulkheads,” he ordered, and then he glanced over to his engineering officer. “I suppose it’s vaguely possible; we’ve been out of radio contact with everybody for several days now.”
“I can see it, Commander,” interrupted Joe, pointing into the blackness with his finger. “It’s just fired a short retro burst. Looks to be manoeuvring to the left now, establishing a parallel course – coming up the right-hand side of the gantries. Now, there, another . . . See it?” Joe pointed again.
Duval and Rose stepped over to the rear viewing area. Carol Boardman joined them. “Yes, I see it,” Duval replied. He watched warily as the small craft came slowly towards them. A few minutes later and with all on the bridge staring in amazement, it drew up alongside them. The vessel was painted black, making it difficult to see against the backdrop of space. It was surprisingly close too – not more than 200 metres away. The front of the craft was then illuminated momentarily as two short retro bursts reduced its velocity to a walking pace and then the effect of a third stopped the vessel in its tracks. There was an eerie silence. The vessel seemingly hovered there in the darkness: ominous, unexpected.
“Call it, Rose! Make it identify itself,” ordered Duval.
“I’ve been trying for the last ten minutes, sir, using the pre-recorded identification message – all our assigned space frequencies, and also on the space distress frequency. Nothing. No response at all.”
Alex
Duval breathed a huge sigh of relief. That was the cue for everyone else on the bridge to follow suit. Alex forced a smile.
Rose broke the ensuing silence. “Commander, I need you to look at this. Now please. There’s no mistake. I’ve switched to the standby radar scanner and I’m still getting the same contact reading. We have a blip – directly astern at three thousand metres. Whatever it is – and it’s relatively small – it is coming this way at ten metres per second and reducing.”
Duval heard the resolve in her voice. As impossible as it seemed, Rose was reporting an intruder. A strange chill descended over the bridge – intruders usually meant trouble. Duval quickly stepped over to Rose’s circular display and Alex followed him. Rose pointed to the tiny blip on the screen. Duval waited for the track of the scanner to sweep the object again. He stared almost unbelieving as the next pass enhanced the object’s elongated saucer-like shape. With another sweep the blip moved inexorably toward them. Duval’s eyes narrowed. He turned and nodded at Alex. “Confirmed at one thousand metres,” he said, bluntly. “Whatever it is, we should be able to see it any moment now.” He looked back at the screen and then up at Rose. “We are not expecting any replenishment vessels from Earth are we . . . anybody? Am I missing something here?”
None of the bridge crew responded. Some shook their heads. Alex shrugged – he was totally at a loss.
Duval paused thoughtfully. His mouth twitched. “Okay. Press the button. Go to manoeuvre alert status and security state three, just in case the Federation has planned a docking that we are not party to as yet. Close all pressure bulkheads,” he ordered, and then he glanced over to his engineering officer. “I suppose it’s vaguely possible; we’ve been out of radio contact with everybody for several days now.”
“I can see it, Commander,” interrupted Joe, pointing into the blackness with his finger. “It’s just fired a short retro burst. Looks to be manoeuvring to the left now, establishing a parallel course – coming up the right-hand side of the gantries. Now, there, another . . . See it?” Joe pointed again.
Duval and Rose stepped over to the rear viewing area. Carol Boardman joined them. “Yes, I see it,” Duval replied. He watched warily as the small craft came slowly towards them. A few minutes later and with all on the bridge staring in amazement, it drew up alongside them. The vessel was painted black, making it difficult to see against the backdrop of space. It was surprisingly close too – not more than 200 metres away. The front of the craft was then illuminated momentarily as two short retro bursts reduced its velocity to a walking pace and then the effect of a third stopped the vessel in its tracks. There was an eerie silence. The vessel seemingly hovered there in the darkness: ominous, unexpected.
“Call it, Rose! Make it identify itself,” ordered Duval.
“I’ve been trying for the last ten minutes, sir, using the pre-recorded identification message – all our assigned space frequencies, and also on the space distress frequency. Nothing. No response at all.”
Alex
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