Chapter Seven: THE TOMB OF MOIRA BROOKS


The exotic matter that had powered the Icarus' FTL drive needed to be siphoned out of the cobbled-together forward ring, and stored before full salvage operations could commence, so David headed up to the ship's tiny command deck. Several panels had been rewired up here, and according to the archival telemetry, the entire assemblage had been wired into several normally separate systems. The deck itself was cluttered with an incongruously neat pile of burnt out components in one corner, and thick cables running underfoot patching several systems together.

The air was probably safe to breathe, but it was still very cold, so David opted to remain fully buttoned up. After pulling up the relevant displays on the consoles adjacent to the command chair, the human found instructions for how to safe the exotic matter. Obviously, these had been left for a future rescuer, so they were fairly straightforward. Once the storage sequence was started, a convenient countdown clock indicated it would take about ten minutes to complete.

After starting the sequence, the human made his way down two decks to the engineering spaces, and checked on the power core. It had (naturally) exhausted all of its reaction mass long ago, but the reserve RTG was still active, and the original designers had ducted its cooling system into the environmental controls as a free source of heat. That system had worked admirably to keep the ambient temperature above the freezing point of nitrogen, but it was still bitterly cold here as well. Fortunately, the vents were operating at less than half flow, so switching the circulators to full would warm things up pretty quickly.

David had avoided switching any lights on up until this point, instead allowing his suit's light amplification of the tiny pinpricks of indicator and deck lights to guide him. Combined with the insulating silence, all he could hear was mainly his suit's own systems. The darkness inside the ship had an almost oppressive presence to it, pressing in from all sides.

It was time to turn on some lights.

The main breakers for nonessential systems had been deliberately tripped before the Icarus' pilot had gone into cryo, so from the environmental controls, it was on to the reactor room, and the power distribution panel. Once there, David reengaged the lighting circuits, and the Icarus' compartments lit with a cheery glow, sending the shadows fleeing. To save power, he reset the lighting regulators to three quarters of full power, but it was more than enough to see by. The increased lighting also revealed the extent of the damage the original incident had wreaked in the power compartment, as the crusted and dried remains of puddled coolant below the floor grates, as well as the scorch marks around several of the power couplings attested to.

By this point, the air temperature had risen to merely "cool", and air quality hadn't thrown any spikes, so David felt safe doffing his helmet. He kept his suit on, as the inbuilt cooling and strength amplification might be necessary later.

And now it was time to exhume the Icarus' pilot…

Up to the second deck, through the airlock bay, sleeping quarters, and finally to the cryo chamber. The capsule itself was visibly extremely cold even without a frosty coating, owing to the extremely dry air. There was only one button on the minimal control panel, along with a readout of the status of the stasis field, and power levels for the device's built-in RTG.

Well, here goes absolutely nothing…

Pressing the button did nothing for several moments. Then, there was a change, and a tinny voice sounded.

Cryogenic suspension process halting

Thawing subject

Please Wait

With nothing better to do, the human checked the lighting fixtures, ensured the pilot suit on the rack by the chamber hadn't degraded into unusability, and that the neatly folded undersuit had held up as well. Everything looked to be in order, and all that was left to do was wait. The warmup of the refrigerant took a full fifteen minutes, and then it was removed from the chamber primary and stored. The attached mana reserve had depleted by no noticeable amount, so that was good. Through the glass, David could make out the now revealed form of the pilot. He knew she'd been a skeleton, but this was his first time seeing one up close.

There was a series of rising chimes, and the pod beeped again.

Defrosting complete

Opening capsule

Preparing to release subject

There was a "clunk" and hiss as the lid unsealed, and David stepped back as warm vapor billowed out, while the dry air became slightly more breathable. The mint smell of the refrigerant wasn't as strong as he'd been worried about, and the lid of the capsule rose to a ninety degree angle, while the faint not-glow of the stasis field faded out. The support plates below the occupant's body shifted and raised her into a reclining position. At this point, trainees were awakened by an instructor, but David waited, allowing her to awake on her own.

She was cold. Warm, but cold inside, as if there was a coat of ice around her soul. But that faded into the background, as Moira felt her senses return. She could feel the itch of the sensor patches, and the warmth of the heated refrigerant below her, as well as the dry air, and the minty scent of the refrigerant. Before she opened her eyes, she sensed there was a presence nearby. Human, by all accounts… Suddenly, she had an uncontrollable urge to yawn, and did so while stretching. Cryo wasn't supposed to make your limbs cramp, but she felt stiff all the same. She took a moment to put her hands to her face, then rub her eyes before opening them, appreciative that whomever had rescued her had kept the lights below full.

"So, are you here to rescue me?" Stupid! Of course he is!

The human she saw looking down at her looked surprised for a moment, but quickly regained his composure. "That's correct. Captain David Wilkinson, SRS." He stated formally.

Moira had never been the best at conversation, even before becoming a test pilot, so she decided to focus on what was the most important in the moment. "Can you help me with these?" she asked, beginning to peel off the sensor pads from her limbs.

"…Sure."

The human – David – removed and stowed his suit's gloves, then bent to remove the patches on her legs, while Moira removed the rest. Once she was done, David extended a hand, and helped her out of the pod, and onto the deck. When she tried to take a step, the skeleton felt a cramp run up one leg, and she gripped his arm, while massaging it out. "Just get me to the chair, please," she requested.

David was not surprised at Moira's unconcern about her own nudity. It was a long-established fact by this point that most mamono species didn't concern themselves with such things. Still, he did take a moment to observe the odd way her outer extremeties smoothly transitioned from pale, purplish blue flesh, to a harder, pale, almost-bone. There were even the secondary bones that a truly skeletal limb would have, but her limbs still maintained feminine curves. The rib-like bony projections on her torso, and the organic growth over her hair all made a deep impression that while beautiful, she was absolutely not human. The more "human" parts of her body revealed a mix of lean muscle and curves, along with a modest bust and proportional hips. Mamono were almost universally attractive, and this one was no exception. Even the spray of freckles across her nose seemed designed to attract.

Moira, meanwhile, was studying the human who had come to retrieve her with equal interest, although she tried to hide it under casual glances as well. She was at eye-level with his collarbone, so he had to be about six feet. Swarthy skin, and short but curly hair, plus the short beard hinted strongly at a middle-eastern heritage, as did the nose. His greenish blue eyes were warm though. His outfit was very strange, an armored spacesuit, but with utility arms that held devices she couldn't identify at the moment. His spacesuit came with a thin backpack, and all of it in an almost garish orange. The patches with black angled slashes in various places broke it up a bit, and the prominent SRS on the shoulders clearly identified him, as did the nametape on the left side of his chest pack…

While she pulled on her undersuit and started to don her pilot's suit, Moira decided to engage her rescuer.

"So, how did they find me?" She could see the muscles on either side of his neck subtly tighten, and then relax. So, I've been out here for a while, then…

"The artificial gravity well the MHI engineers had you cobble together work extremely well. A passing cargo vessel detected it, and dropped out of FTL to investigate. They found the ship, and relayed the coordinates to us."

And now came the moment she'd been dreading. "How long was I out here?" Please, let it not have been a century…

"I don't know how to tell you this, but it's been five years."

"Five years?"

"I'm afraid so. Is there anyone you want to contact?"

"Yes… No, wait, only five years?"

"I understand if you're feeling shocked, but yes, five years and a few months."

"No, that's a lot better than I'd been dreading," At his look of confusion, Moira continued. "I'm an only child, lost my dad a few years before all of… this. Mom's a skeleton as well, and she's been alive for well over a century." You're making a mess of this!

David could practically feel the embarrassment radiating off of her, as the skeleton's cheeks pinked while she pulled up the closure on her pilot suit. "I think I understand…" I know mamono are long-lived… Humans too, these days… I suppose this is for the best?

"I'm just trying to say that we said 'see you later' before I went into stasis…" Oh God, this is so awkward.

The human took a breath and decided to save her. "Ok."

"Ok?"

"Ok."

Moira visibly relaxed at that, and David felt the tension leave his own body as well. "Shall we head over to my ship? You can contact your mother, as well as anyone else you deem appropriate from there."

"Can we head up to the command deck first? I'd like to say goodbye."

At the human's nod, she turned, and made her way through the compartments, stopping to take one last look around at each, before climbing the ladder to the command deck. David decided hang back at the entry compartment to give her a moment, while he ran through a checklist for what he'd need to do to get the Icarus ready to transport.

Once she entered the command deck, Moira took a moment to look around. Her first command – no, her only command, and now she was saying goodbye… All the training, all the sacrifices, and here she was putting it to rest...

It can't end like this… There has to be something I can do. Some way I can put all the training I received to work in this new future… New future, It's only been five years… surely my skills are still relevant, right? All the time I spent training, all the time alone… I won't let it all go to waste.

After a minute or two, the skeleton climbed back down, and gave the human a wobbly smile. "All set, I guess."

"All right." Was his only reply, as they entered the airlock, and began suit checkouts. David reattached his gloves and checked their seals, before donning his helmet, while Moira donned her own helmet, and checked her seals. Then they checked each other's seals, before synchronizing radio frequencies, and closing the inner hatch. The lock cycled, and they stepped out into the void.

Moira could feel her boots latch onto the outer hull, and clicked her heels together to turn the electromagnets off. As her rescuer came up beside her, his voice came over her radio.

"Does your suit have integrated maneuvering?"

"Afraid not."

"All right, I'm going to put my arms under yours, but I have to operate my maneuvering controls. See the grips on my forearms? Grab those, and put your heels on the projections on my shins."

Suddenly, some of the odder bits of David's suit made sense, and she could appreciate the thought that had gone into its design. "OK, go ahead."

Once they were secure and had pushed away, she took a look back over her shoulder at the starkly revealed hull of her ship, then tried not to stare too long at the blackness beyond. "It's pretty bad, isn't it?"

"Well, I won't lie to you and say 'I've seen worse'… But all in all, she's actually in far better shape than first glance would suggest. Her pressure hull remained intact, and that's the most important thing. I've been on some rescues where the ring and hull were near pristine, but the fitting seals or a lock had failed."

"How long have you been doing this?" she asked as they continued on towards the Knight.

"I've been working in space for about four years, been with the SRS for two. We're still a young agency, so we're short-staffed."

"So they sent you out on your own?"

"No, every SRS member is dispatched with a MI partner. Mine's named Mitch."

"Machine Intelligence… I don't know the last three words."

"Spotted that acronym right away? Yeah, I'm stumped about why he chose to name himself after his acronym as well."

"I wasn't sure MIs would ever be used onboard vessels."

"Normally they aren't, but the Knight's a special case."

As they got closer to the ship "above" them, Moira saw the two "pontoon" armatures, and the massive opening in the vessel's lower hull. "You could fit the entire Icarus in there!"

"That's the general plan… We're not leaving her behind."

After a few more minutes, they had flown into the min bay, and reached the inner access lock. Cycling through, Moira doffed her helmet, and took a deep breath. She could smell that this new ship was just that: New. The inner hatch opened, and she caught sight of the stark black letters on the beige painted bulkhead in front of the lock:

DSRV Richard T. Knight

"That Others May live"

There was an electronic crackle, and a mellow male voice sounded from hidden speakers: "Welcome aboard the Richard T. Knight Miss Brooks. I'm Mitch, the ship's MI. Feel free to address me from any location, and I'll do my best to assist you. Please be aware that there are several classified areas which are off-limits, but otherwise, the passenger compartments, galley, bathing facilities, and general purpose areas are open to you."

"Mitch, please grant Moira provisional access to the command deck as well," David said as he doffed his own helmet. "She's a fellow pilot, and it'll be good for her to have you to talk to while I get the Icarus secured aboard."

"Understood," the MI replied.

Turning, David addressed the skeleton. "Moira, I'll be heading back out to secure the Icarus, and bring her aboard. Mitch will direct you to the passenger quarters, galley, and general use room."

Although she felt a surge of loneliness within her chest, the skeleton nodded. "All right. It's been years since I last had a shower, after all." The fragile attempt at humor didn't go unnoticed, but David's mind was now occupied with exactly how he was going to bring the remains of the Icarus aboard, so the human gave a mental shrug, an external nod while he re-donned his helmet, before shutting the inner airlock hatch.

Back out in the black, it was a matter of only a few minutes for David to make his way back to the Icarus and get to work. Tapping into the hulk's remaining computers, he disconnected the power leads to the remaining solar arrays, and then made his way over the hull to each mount. From there, it was the work of only a few minutes to switch his laser ablator to its hull cutter mode, and sever each array at its base, before manhandling it down flat, and spot-welding it to the hull.

As he worked, Mitch would send him periodic status updates from the link he now had to the Icarus' main computer. In thirty minutes, He'd gotten all three solar arrays down, and was cutting through the more tattered sections of the forward fusion torch bell, when Mitch called again.

"David, we have a situation: Long-range sensors are picking up an incoming swarm of cometary debris"

"How long do I have?" the human responded, as he felt a surge of adrenaline course through his tired limbs.

"Approximately thirty minutes, but I'd be more comfortable if you decided to leave now."

"All right. I've got only a foot of engine bell left to cut through, and I'll be done. Send out the grappler drones, and I'll ride the hull back inside."

"My calculations put this entire operation taking twenty-five minutes. The margin is barely in the acceptable range."

"I know, buddy, but if we don't, we'll be taking back a hunk of swiss cheese. The historic value of the Icarus makes it worth the risk."

"…Understood. I'll never fully comprehend human sentimentality, but I understand."

With that, the next twenty minutes went by in a blur, as David severed the last piece of broken engine bell, and shoved it away. At the same time, eight grapple drones flew down from their mounts in the main salvage bay, trailing superstrong carbon-carbon cables. Attaching them to the Icarus hull at intervals to ensure an even "lift" took a few minutes, but the grapples were smart enough to secure themselves once a latching point was marked. Each one resembled an ovoid with a set of thrusters at the cable end and around their periphery. The "nose" consisted of a six-pointed claw that could articulate, and was sharp enough to tear into even an armored hull, before spot welding itself in place.

With the cables attached, Mitch began to reel the Icarus in, using bursts of thruster power on the grapples to keep tension on the lines. The craft rose smoothly into the Knight's salvage bay, and two capture collars unfolded from the ceiling, gently grasping the craft, while the lower bay halves articulated closed, and locked. A series of support braces extended from the now sealed lower bay hull, and supported the Icarus from below.

"Capture Completed," Mitch reported. "Alert, cometary debris is inside our defensive perimeter, engaging point defenses."

Out on the hull, the twelve pulse cannons deployed, as the ship tilted to take the swarm nose-on to present a smaller profile. With machine speed and precision, Mitch vaporized any debris that would have impacted the hull, and skillfully used the thrusters to dodge out of the way of bigger chunks. The hiss of thrusters, and the rapid thudding of pulse cannon fire were faintly audible to David once he'd re-boarded through the bay airlock.

While not the most daring of ship retrievals, the whole race against time had proven the life in the SRS wasn't without its moments.