John glanced back at her, his face hidden by his head gear.
“Someone got the supplies we brought.” Her cargo was gone, though she wasn’t sure how that had been accomplished so swiftly. Suddenly she didn’t know what was real and what was not. Had her excursions in other places all happened inside her head? But—could the deception follow them out of this place and into wider space? She’d wonder if they ever left, but John and his team were here. She hadn’t imagined that—before she could stop herself, she touched his arm, her hand closing around it.
“I’m real,” he said. “I’m here.”
“You’d say that if you weren’t,” she said, but the arm felt real, and so did the relief, then, “Am I real?”
Now it was Tim who looked back. “Yes.”
She half laughed and realized she believed the brief word more than John. Because she wanted to believe John, she decided. But Tim was…Tim. A robot couldn’t lie, could it?
They reached the bridge access and Tim deployed his access device. It was quite useful to have a robot around.
Once inside, it was clear it had been abandoned some time ago. There was dust on the controls—thankfully internal gravity was still active here too—and on the seats. At least there were no human remains. Until she had this thought, she hadn’t realized she’d been worried about it.
It was a small bridge with only three crew positions. It did have databanks and video screens for both bay sides.
Though they were all suited up, John asked, “What’s the air quality like?”
“It is minimally acceptable in quality,” Tim said. “The levels were adjusted prior to our arrival.” As he spoke, he went to work on the controls, bringing the bridge power back online.
“Does that mean someone adjusted them?” Riina sounded startled.
“Our presence could be activating systems, such as emergency lighting,” Tim said.
The video screens flickered, then began to show the various bays. The quality wasn’t great, Naxe noted. And all the bays were as empty as the one they’d left, but the one directly across from theirs. There was her cargo. Who had moved it? And why were the others so empty? No, empty was such a bland word. They looked deserted, long abandoned, though she couldn’t have said exactly why she felt this. Space did not cause deterioration like planets did.
Tim found a data port and accessed the ship’s databanks. He was silent so long, John finally stirred and asked, “Anything?”
The robot seemed to stir.
“This ship was not originally a Scoyfol ship,” Tim said. “It allied with them early in the conflict.”
“So it is old,” John said.
Riina nodded. “I saw ships such as this one before.”
“Any reason why no one is here?” John prompted again.
“There is nothing in the logs about why, just a simple statement that they were withdrawing and shutting systems down.”
“How long ago?” John asked.
Naxe was glad he asked. Her throat was too tight to let words out.
Tim turned from the controls, his red eyes glowing or perhaps pulsing from the information access. Did he seem to hesitate?
“Allowing for differences in how they count time and your method of counting time, I estimate it was about ten years after the first Dusan incursion.”
“But that’s—” the words were forced out past the dry in her throat and they sounded as harsh as they felt. The rest of the sentence shriveled to nothing.
“A very long time ago,” John finished for her.
3
Ghost ships for ghost people.
Well, Naxe had nailed the ghost ship part, so far. Were all the ships as dead as this one? What had happened to cause the crew to withdraw? Was there someone—or something—alive and still aboard one or more of the other ships? If this was a trap, and Halliwell’s gut told him it was, why? Had Naxe been tricked into seeking them out? Or were they an unwelcome addition to the party? If someone wanted to hold him hostage, well, his people would try to get him back, but they wouldn’t give up anything to do it. They didn’t deal with terrorists. And if this wasn’t about him?
That left Naxe. She didn’t look like a terrorist, but then what would one look like? Had his gut let him down? He gave her a side-eye look and ended up in the same place. He trusted her because he trusted his gut that said he could trust her. That said, it was time to call in some backup.
“Can you use this ship’s communications to reach our backup?” he asked. He gave Naxe a sidelong glance, but if she reacted her headgear hid it.
“Whatever technology is hiding this fleet of ships is also blocking communications,” Tim said.
Okay, that wasn’t good. He’d operated on the assumption that his people could come in at any point and help them. When was he going to learn to never assume?
“Where’s the signal for the cloak coming from?”
Riina went up next to Tim and started working on the controls, too. Then she paused and looked at Tim.
“This ship lacks the technology we need to acquire that data,” Tim said.
“It is pretty basic,” Riina agreed.
Halliwell frowned, considering. He didn’t want to leave this ship…okay, that wasn’t strictly accurate. He had as much curiosity as the next person. If nothing else, this was an intriguing archaeological find. Except for the fact that someone had been messing with Naxe’s brain. That should be a dent in his gut-trust, or at least put a question mark next to her. Okay, a big one. Just how compromised was she? Could they even know in these conditions?
“Can we get any indication of the various ships’ positions from here?” he finally asked.
It took a while—for Tim—but not long for a human, before a display finally appeared. It lacked data, such as life signs readings—unless there were none—but at least he could see them. Before he could ask, Tim split the display so he could see a side view, too.
“Any ship IDs or basic information on their purpose?” How many were Scoyfol ships and how many were acquired? There were many more of than he’d estimated from their approach. There were probably sixty ships, give or take, in varying sizes and configurations.
The display altered, descriptions appearing next to the ships. No surprise they were in an alien language.
“Can you read any of this?” he asked, glanced at Tim, then at Riina.
Riina leaned in closer. “The bulk of the ships are Scoyfol.”
“But that’s—” Naxe started to protest, then pressed her lips together.
After a pause, Riina continued, “Those on the outer edge have more defensive weapons and those seem to be the ones that came later, though I still recognize most of them.” She sounded puzzled. She pointed at the ugly ship right behind the Hope. “I don’t recognize that one.”
To Halliwell, it was just another confirmation—if he needed it—that this fleet was not what Naxe thought it was. And that he’d been right to not like the look of the ugly ship.
“If you had to guess which one controlled the force field…” Halliwell looked at Tim for this one.
Tim was quiet for so long, Halliwell thought he was sorting data and hadn’t heard him, though that seemed unlikely. Tim was a multifunction overachiever.