There was a fair amount of overlap between this crew briefing and the briefing I was given before the meeting with the Shima. But now Sainecourt was spending more time explaining the nature of the Ambit and how we intended to use it to locate the Kryrk.
Apparently the Ambit was a primitive analogue to our own H-mesh, a series of connected data networks used for communication and the storage of information. Its range was limited to the planet Yueld and the moons and space stations that orbited Yueld.
Once it was discovered, the Ambit easily yielded its secrets. Several missions had tapped directly into the network and archived it into their ship’s databases. Over the years, researchers—including Chiraine Portelle—had combed through reconstructions of the Ambit, searching for references to certain artifacts, and in many cases, discovering their specific locations. But there was a problem.
Even though the Ambit was still somewhat functional—nearly 700 years after the fall of the Yueldian civilization—parts of it had broken down. Over time vast nodes of the network had become disconnected. And the data scientists believed that those disconnected nodes held valuable information. Such as the location of the Kryrk.
The Shima, through Dr. Portelle’s work, had discovered a clue to a previously undiscovered node—A782—which seemed promising. We would begin our mission by finding the node and, using an RK-11 “Raker” data slicer, extract and parse the data. With any luck, that would lead us to where the Kryrk had been stored away over a thousand years ago.
“So you’re saying if the flunky doesn’t show, the gig’s off?” Galish asked.
“Not at all,” Wallace said. “It is my understanding that the Shima will then provide us with their research and we will proceed. It’s not their preferred option, but we all know that this opportunity came about rather suddenly.”
Galish was about to ask another question when the meeting was abruptly interrupted by one of our security officers bursting into the room with a panicked look on his face.
The Spiridion Arrow had been sabotaged.
I didn’t learn all the details for another half hour, but it didn’t look good. Someone had smuggled in a particularly nasty pathogenic scidatium which spread to all the ship’s systems, destroying the programming, controls, data, everything. It would take a week to replace everything. And we didn’t have a week. We had an hour.
We were screwed.
Or were we?
I looked down at the row of ships in the front of the hangar. They were all part of Beck Salvage’s fleet. “Why don’t we just take one of those?”
Wallace shook his head. “Those vessels haven’t been vetted by the Rhya. They won’t allow—”
“They’ll allow the Freya,” Ana-Zhi said.
“The Freya?” Yates shook his head. “No. It’s too old. And it’s not properly outfitted.”
I recognized the name. The Freya was the ship my dad was on during his last mission seven years ago. Yates was right. It was an old Mako-class that Beck Salvage had bought from a mining company. One of Beck Salvage’s first big purchases. The Freya was easily as old as me.
Wallace leaned back against a bulkhead, lost in thought. I actually felt sorry for him. He had fucked up badly and everything he and my dad had built was about to come crumbling down. Then he gets one shot at pulling it out of the fire, one very long shot, and now this happens.
I turned to him. “Let’s give it a try.”
My uncle looked shocked. So did Ana-Zhi Agrada.
“How much time do we have?” I asked.
Wallace checked his datapad. “Sixty-seven minutes.”
“Let’s get going then!”
The Rhya moved quickly. Maybe they even knew about the sabotage before we did. It’s hard to know with a species so far above you on the technological scale. Within fifteen minutes, six of them swarmed the Freya, presumably checking the ship for technology compliance. The Rhya looked like glowing translucent eels—about a meter and a half long. They floated in the air, as if they were swimming in some invisible ether.
No one knew much about the Rhya, other than they pretty much left the Empire alone. They appeared content to observe our civilization. The most involvement we had with them began when the Fountain was discovered. Immediately, the Rhya stepped into their role as caretakers and imposed the rules the Empire had to follow in order to be allowed access to the Fountain.
While the Rhya did their thing, an army of mechanics and other workers raced to prep the Freya. They loaded in crates of supplies, weapons, support vehicles, electronics, and—most importantly—a rack of state-of-the-art exosuits. Hendrik Lim saw me checking them out and walked over with a big shit-eating grin on his face.
“You can thank me for those,” he said. “Top of the line Welkin B series.”
“I didn’t think these were out yet.”
“They’re not. But I play chuiwan with Dalen Moch, their CFO, so we’re getting early access.”
“Nice.”
Exosuits were miracles of technology and Welkin led the pack in terms of miniaturization, power usage, and even nano features. On exploration and salvage missions, exosuits were easily the most important piece of gear on a ship. If things went wrong, these suits could basically keep you alive. Even the older models had a long-term emergency hibernation mode.
Lim bragged that the new B series had a lighter exoskeleton, three-phase crystal metallic fiber mesh, and an even more powerful magtouch system.
“Good to know.” I tried to drift away, but he kept droning on and on about the suit’s specs. Fortunately, the Shima’s scientist showed up.
“I need someone to load in my equipment,” she huffed.
Dr. Chiraine Portelle appeared to be my age or even a few years younger, although she dressed and had her hair styled more formally—like an older woman. She had striking light green eyes and red hair, although not the bold red hue that Essida favored. It was more natural—as were her features. Likewise Chiraine Portelle’s full lips and aquiline nose seemed untouched by any cosme procedures.
“I’m Sean Beck, captain of the expedition.”
If she recognized the
