It was for this reason when the door fell away and Thuk followed Lynz out into the black, he felt … nothing. Nothing at all. Not cold, not the subtle, easily forgotten swirl of air currents around sensory cilia imbedded in his plates. Nothing except a slight ache in the softer tissues of his joints. The river of the galaxy cut a wispy cloud across the perfect black of the sky. The system’s star was on the other side of the ship, but even if it had been directly overhead, it was far enough away that it would be just the brightest of the pinpricks of light cast against the black.
It wasn’t the first time he’d been naked outside a ship, but it was still a supremely unnerving experience.
“Okay, Lynz, show me why you dragged me out here, and be quick about it.”
“It’s a short walk this way.” They clipped the ends of their tethers into runner tracks built into the skin of the Chusexx’s outer shell, a backup in case their sticky sandals failed for whatever reason. Just behind them and overhead was the backmost of the four rings that spun the ship’s seedpods, and would again soon with any luck. They walked further back toward the ship’s annihilation fuel containers and its mighty fusion motors.
Under full power, the rotting light coming from the motors and source energy chambers would be lethal in the span of a breath on this side of the conical shield. But the chambers and motors were running at idle as they coasted toward the treaty line, awaiting completion of their repairs, signs of which were everywhere.
Soon, they were underneath the giant armored shell that protected the annihilation fuel containers from enemy fire and space rocks alike. Seven giant, perfectly spherical vessels suspended within the structure by shock-absorbing legs held back unfathomable amounts of potential energy. Several grains’ worth of it getting out of containment before its time had been enough to almost destroy the ship outright.
It was a dangerous job they did for the Grand Symphony, out here in the dark ocean.
“It’s just ahead,” Lynz said through the small mouth imbedded in Thuk’s mask.
Thuk looked ahead to where the attendant pointed. A work light bathed the area in a harsh white glow that contrasted almost painfully against the surrounding dark. Thuk recognized the components.
“That’s one of the transfer coils,” Thuk observed.
“Yes, Derstu. I was assigned to replace it after the acci … incident.” Thuk noticed the change in words, but said nothing.
“As soon as we cut thrust, I was sent back out here to run integrity tests on the new installation. But that’s not what I wanted to show you. I’ve found something. On one of the other coils.”
They passed the work light, and continued back closer to the edge of the shield and the cluster of fusion motors. Lynz stopped and flipped on a small illuminator on his mask.
“Here.” He pointed at an exposed panel and the tree-trunk-thick transfer coil below. Thuk got himself into a better position and peered into the space.
“What do you see?” Lynz asked, annoying Thuk to no small degree. He was not a trained maintenance attendant, but he looked anyway. As it happened, he didn’t need training. Thuk leaned into the space to run a claw down the perfectly straight channel that sliced through the metal and ceramic of the coil.
“It’s been cut.”
“Yes, indeed.”
“This isn’t naturally occurring? A meteor or other debris?”
“Impossible, look closer at the grooves. They’re too regular. Those are tool marks from a rotary saw. And here.” Lynz pointed a claw at four pockmarks on opposing sides of the coil casing, easily missed until they were pointed out. “Those are depressions left by attachment claws like what we use for mobile repair rigs.”
“Was someone working on this coil during the repairs? Maybe started work on it accidentally thinking it was one of the ones that needed replacement?”
Lynz wiggled his shoulders. “Not possible. I already checked the work logs. No one came this far back.”
Thuk did not like where this was leading. “Walk me down this path, Lynz. What are you thinking?”
“It’s speculation.”
“So, speculate.”
Lynz paused, hesitant to continue, or maybe just gathering his thoughts. “I think something was placed here, a device of some kind, either remotely operated, or set to an internal timeflow meter. I think it was programmed to cut this coil, then either fall away, or it was knocked loose by the explosion in the other coil.”
“Then why didn’t this coil explode also?”
“It nearly did. Another leaf deeper and it would have. If I hadn’t found it, the coil was sure to fail after a few days, at most.”
A chill went through Thuk’s shell that had nothing to do with the surrounding temperature. They’d almost died all over again.
“So this couldn’t have been done in harbor, then.”
“No, it would have failed long ago. This happened within the last few days, almost certainly at the same time as the explosion.”
Thuk almost asked why someone couldn’t have come out here and cut it themselves, why it had to have been a remote device, but caught himself. Under full power, anyone on the wrong side of the rotting light shield would be cooked inside their own shell long before they got here.
“Why two?” Thuk asked instead.
Lynz shrugged. “Backup? Or maybe they were intended to go off together, but fell just enough out of harmony that one coil exploded before the other and jarred this device loose before it could finish the job.”
“And if they’d both gone off at once?” Thuk asked, pretty sure he knew the
