we did. We should have all the time we need.”
Kas shook his head. “Once we’re found, things are going to get interesting. The Rekesh will become an interstellar incident. Oh, we’ve got enough of her weapons working to defend ourselves. For awhile. But as soon as we’re located, you can bet that a couple of the neighboring systems will file a claim on this system and start trying to force the Empire to relinquish its claim on the Rekesh.”
“And that’s assuming that they adhere to the niceties of interstellar diplomacy. They’re just as likely to bring enough force here to overcome even a partially-functional battle cruiser and simply attack, on the theory that they’ll be able to salvage whatever’s left. Or perhaps simply, ‘If we can’t have it, they won’t have it either.’”
“And then,” he added, “there’s always the Glory. There’s no guessing how far they’d go to deprive the ‘Godless’ of a battle cruiser, but I don’t think I want to find out. No, Doctor, we’re still under the gun. We’ve got to find out whether we’ll be able to salvage her, and if so we’ve got months of work to do. Every moment that we’re not on our way back to the Empire, we’re in danger.”
Ro-Lecton’s expression had faded from puzzlement to understanding and finally, determination. He nodded. “We’ll do what we can, Commodore. But you do understand that the odds are against us isolating the cause quickly. I got some leads and ideas from what the ship’s medical staff learned, but still…” He shrugged.
Kas sighed. “I understand, Doctor. I only expect your best efforts. I know there are no guarantees. Uh, about the… uh… cadavers. Do you think your medical people can retrieve them? Or must it be my people?”
Ro-Lecton frowned, and then shrugged. “I don’t know. Does it matter?”
Kas suppressed a shudder. “Yes, I’m afraid it does. I’ve seen that net full of bodies. None of my people are squeamish, but seeing those bodies crammed into that net, well…” This time he couldn’t suppress it. His shudder was jarring.
Ro-Lecton looked bemused. “Really?” He shrugged. “They’re just cadavers, after all.” Then seeing Kas’ expression he resumed. “Well, yes, I suppose my people can retrieve the cadavers. But none of them are very skilled in vacuum. Shouldn’t one of your crew accompany them? For safety reasons?”
Kas sighed. “You’re right, of course. All right. I’ll go with them. But I’m not looking forward to it.”
In the event, it wasn’t as bad as Kas feared. By focusing his attention strictly on the suited med techs he was largely able to avoid watching what they were doing, or handling, while they worked several cadavers free of the net. Once the bodies were gathered, however, it was impossible to avoid looking at them, or handling them.
There were three of them, two men and a woman. None had visible wounds — the med techs wanted the bodies of people they could be certain had died from the disease. The woman and one of the men were even clad in hospital gowns. Thankfully they’d also wanted people who’d survived until near the end, so none of the three were badly decomposed. Actually, their faces looked peaceful. Kas’ face was grim, but after a moment’s hesitation he had no difficulty helping the med techs handle the frozen corpses. He told himself it was like handling statues, not real people. Frozen solid, they certainly felt like statues.
The senior med tech turned to Kas as they were leaving the hangar deck. “We’re also supposed to get a suited one from one of the airlocks, sir.”
Kas nodded. “I’ll go get one. All of you hook your safety lines to deck eyebolts until I get back. And don’t touch any of your suit controls while I’m gone.”
He kicked off, relieved to be moving away from the grisly contents of that damned net. It took only a few minutes to reach the nearest of the occupied personnel locks. He paused, and then clumsily saluted the drifting suited figure before unhooking the suit’s safety line while cursing himself for a sentimental fool. Clipping the safety line to his own suit, he headed back for the hangar deck and the med techs. The suited corpse bobbed along in his wake.
When they returned to Starhopper, Two of the bodies were taken directly into the bio lab — the woman and the suited man. Kas made sure that the other two cadavers were covered with tarps. There was no sense upsetting the troops. Besides it offended his sensibilities to leave the bodies uncovered, as though on display.
He suspected that the med techs had been suppressing snickers at his obvious reluctance to handle the corpses, but frankly he didn’t give a damn. He hoped he’d never learn to be matter-of-fact about handling bodies. He felt that anyone who could handle bodies without confronting his own mortality wasn’t someone he wanted to know.
Things settled into a routine. The medical team was hard at work, and Kas had been forced to allow them to develop their own meal schedule. In fact, meals became rather a hit-or-miss affair generally. Starhopper ’s crew, aided by Lady Jane and Lar, were usually busy aboard Vir Rekesh.
Edro and Toj had begun activating a few of the distributed comps aboard the battle cruiser. One was the stores comp, and Kas stared longingly at the lengthy printout of the resources available on the big ship.
By Fleet regs virtually all Fleet supplies were required to be supplied in airtight containers, and most were vacuum-packed. So Kas had long arguments with himself over whether they should bring things like uniforms aboard.
But he’d determined from the start that nothing from the dead ship would be brought aboard Starhopper except samples and cadavers kept in her evacuated hold or the bio lab, and he reluctantly decided to stick with his decision.
The rest of Starhopper ’s crew had begun the daunting task of trying to find and remove the weapons scattered throughout the Rekesh. Kas was uncomfortably aware that it would be impossible for so few searchers to find every weapon on the huge cruiser. But it would be irresponsible to leave so many weapons scattered around, especially since the crew that was to take her home was an unknown variable.
The ratings sleeping aboard Starhopper were Fleet, but that didn’t mean they were angels. Military personnel have always had a reputation for hard drinking and fast living; when you so frequently place your life on the line, somehow decorum and tastefulness no longer seem as important as they might to a civilian. Alcohol, drugs and weapons added up to a deadly mix.
But there were problems. In the absolute blackness aboard the Rekesh, their suit lights created moving, jerking shadows that imposed themselves on the crew’s attention. The shadows combined with the total silence to make them all uneasy. They found themselves suddenly whirling around, searching for the source of movement detected by peripheral vision, only to realize almost immediately that it was a shadow cast by their own suit lights.
It was a strain. It became an uncomfortable haunted feeling. No matter how often they told themselves it was ridiculous, morale was declining. Kas found his crew — and himself — more and more reluctant to go aboard the derelict.
Toj wanted to activate more of Rekesh ’s fusactors to power the comps and provide light, at least. Kas agonized over the decision before realizing that if they had to push her into the sun it would scarcely matter how many of her fusactors were hot. And light would help. He authorized the powering of lights, but he cautioned Toj not to activate the gravs or any other life support facilities.
Despite expecting it they were all startled when the derelict suddenly erupted in light. They breathed a huge sigh of relief and exchanged sheepish glances.
The light reduced the tension, but it also revealed the grim condition of what had been a proud warship.
Damage was everywhere, but wasn’t all battle damage. Much of it was simple vandalism. Most of the rest was the remains of what appeared to have been the biggest, longest party in the galaxy.
Least damaged seemed to be the staterooms and berthing areas. Some of them even appeared perfectly orderly, as though their owners had simply stepped out for a moment. In others, globules of frozen blood or vomit drifted lazily in the vacuum. Some bunks were neatly made; others were mussed and bloodstained.
The most battle-damaged area seemed to be the Engineering decks. Here, barricade after barricade gave mute testimony to besieged crewpeople fighting off repeated, desperate attackers. Maybe they’d wanted to overload the fusactors in a massive suicide pact, or maybe they thought they could fly the Rekesh somewhere. Whatever the reason for the attacks, there had been a series of brutal and bloody battles here.
Other fighting areas had been officers’ country and the passages leading to the Combat Information Center and the Bridge. Weapons drifted everywhere. They had to be gathered up and armfuls carried to the nearest airlock to be thrown overboard.
Except for a few very expensive versions intended for orbital construction projects space suits are not designed for long periods of working occupancy. Nor are they designed to be easily donned or removed. For Kas’ crew, maneuvering through narrow passages and trying to bend and twist in the clumsy suits to locate hidden or
