It was silhouetted in the bad light but definitely humanoid and appeared to be favouring one leg as it limped across the upcoming junction. They both winced as it walked into the wall head first, turned and hobbled off out of sight, back the way it had come.
‘Well, that was weird,’ said Clammer. ‘Must have hurt too.’
‘Its movement looked kind of jerky though,’ said Bache. ‘I think it was an android.’
‘With a wonky leg and bad eyesight,’ said Clammer, shaking his head.
‘We need to be wary,’ said Bache.
‘Wary?’ repeated Clammer. ‘It couldn’t detect a wall, let alone us.’
‘It might have fully operational friends who’re programmed to defend the place.’
‘Good point,’ said Clammer, as he continued up to the junction and leaned out to peer round the corner.
‘I don’t know why you’re bothering to do that,’ said Bache. ‘Half your suit sticks out before you can see anything.’
‘Stops me getting my balls shot off,’ said Clammer.
‘What about your head?’
‘If that happened, I wouldn’t know much about it.’
It was a T-junction and they each looked both ways. Doorways led off from both passages stretching off into the gloom. The android was bumping along the left-hand wall and suddenly disappeared through one of the doors. They heard a crash and then silence returned.
‘No wonder he’s got a wonky leg,’ said Clammer, causing Bache to grin.
‘There’s the ducting for the atmosphere,’ said Bache, pointing up at a grey pipe with slotted vents every few metres. ‘We need to follow that.’
‘In which direction?’ said Clammer, looking left and right.
‘Hang on,’ said Bache, stretching up and pulling one of the vent covers off. He picked a handful of dust off the floor and threw it into the hole. It blew away to the right. ‘We go left then, that’s where the scrubbers will be.’
They peered in the first doorway they came to. It was more a hole in the stone wall as there wasn’t actually any door. It opened out into a dormitory. Bache counted fifty rudimentary bed frames, all of them slightly different, made from what looked like ship parts and lined against the walls.
‘It’s as though they all had to make their own,’ said Clammer.
‘Probably did,’ said Bache. ‘After the ship crashed, they were most likely here for some time and resources were limited. They had to make do with what they could scavenge from the wreck at the same time as repairing it.’
‘You still think they managed to fly off again?’ said Clammer.
‘There’s no ship, no bedding left in here and no bodies. Bolsters my theory somewhat,’ said Bache, raising his eyebrows at his colleague.
‘You could be a Skirmat Eagle with your deducing skills.’ Clammer chuckled.
‘Don’t you swear at me,’ said Bache, glaring at Clammer through his visor.
‘Oh, yeah, whoops, sorry,’ said Clammer. ‘Let’s see what’s in the next room.’ Quickly changing the subject, he sloped off up the corridor.
The next room was identical to the first, with another fifty beds all pushed around randomly. The one after that was on the opposite side of the corridor and was the door the android had fallen through. It had been a dining area of some sort, Bache realised, as he peered around the entrance. It was bigger than the dormitories and had a large kitchen at the far end. Tables that had once been in neat rows were like the beds in the other rooms, all pushed around, on their sides and upside down.
The android was now back on its feet and bumping around the kitchen quietly mumbling to itself. They watched it for a while before making their way through the wrecked dining room and approaching the clumsy machine as it rattled itself around in a small pantry.
‘Can you hear me?’ called Bache, making sure he remained to one side of the door in case the machine was armed.
The android froze as if someone had hit the off switch.
‘Can you understand me?’ Bache continued.
Its head turned suddenly in Bache’s direction.
‘Corlevie, macheen shull,’ it said, its unseeing eyes flicking from left to right.
Now they were close to the machine and it was stationary, Bache could see the intricacy and beauty of its design. Mostly grey in colour, the intricate arm and leg joints were exposed, with dozens of tiny multicoloured cables weaving their way through the gaps in the outer skin.
‘Someone put a lot of effort into that design,’ he said to Clammer. ‘I’ve never seen anything like it.’
‘Corlevie, macheen shull,’ it repeated, this time turning its torso towards them. A small panel in the centre of its chest whirred open, causing Bache and Clammer to shrink back.
‘What the hell is that?’ said Clammer.
‘Some sort of miniature keypad,’ said Bache. ‘Those tiny buttons have more of their weird lettering.’
‘Corlevie, macheen shull,’ it said again and dropped its head down as if to look at the open keypad.
‘Have you got a universal translator in your suit?’ asked Bache, glancing at Clammer.
‘No, sorry – not something I thought we might need on a dead moon.’
Bache thought for a moment before sliding his tablet out from a side pocket. He clumsily prodded at it with one gloved finger then, holding it out towards the android, he spoke once more.
‘Can you say something again?’ he said, deliberately projecting his voice towards the android.
‘Corlevie, macheen shull,’ it repeated as if understanding the question.
‘Ah, there we go,’ said Bache, reading from the tablet. ‘It’s speaking in Horty, a language from the Gattainian Cluster.’
‘Where?’ said Clammer.
‘They’re not GDA,’ said Bache. ‘A very old region, fiercely independent and, if my history lessons serve me correctly, they were one of the first human races to explore the galaxy, many thousands of years ago.’
He showed the translation to Clammer.
‘Malfunction, maintenance required,’ Clammer read aloud. He glanced at Bache, raising his eyebrows. ‘No shit.’
Bache smiled and selected Horty, the language from a planet called Eritain, the tablet told him. He proceeded to speak clearly into it.
‘What do I enter into the keypad?’ Bache asked.
The tablet repeated the sentence in Horty and the android looked up in their direction.
‘Are you not from the Xhamin?’ it asked.
‘No,’ said Bache. ‘The Xhamin and all its crew are gone.’
‘Incorrect,’ it said. ‘The Xhamin entered the interstice. The commander remained here.’
Bache and Clammer glanced at each other.
‘How long ago did the Xhamin leave?’ Bache asked.
‘Two thousand, nine hundred and eighty-seven years, forty-nine days and sixteen hours,’ it said.
‘How long ago did the Xhamin crash here?’
‘Three thousand and three years, thirty-one days and two hours ago.’
‘They were here for sixteen years,’ said Clammer.
‘And someone had to operate the gateway from the surface,’ said Bache, nodding. ‘That’s what the domes are for. The interstice must be some kind of wormhole technology.’
‘Do you think that’s what happened to the Dres’kin?’ Clammer asked. ‘It was sucked into a wormhole with all the surface regolith?’
‘Would explain a lot, wouldn’t it?’ said Bache. ‘They didn’t realise it would draw on everything close by and the ship was dragged in before the commander could get aboard.’
‘Where did the interstice go to?’ asked Clammer.
‘No data,’ said the android.
‘Do you have a name?’ asked Bache.
‘My designation is V1438903.’
Bache shook his head.
‘We’ll just call you Vee, if that is acceptable?’
‘It is acceptable.’
Clammer looked back towards the dining room door.
‘Where is the commander?’ he asked.
‘The commander is in his sleep cabin,’ said Vee.
‘How long has he been there?’ asked Bache.
‘Two thousand, nine hundred and eighty-seven years, forty-six days and twelve hours.’
‘Shall I tell him it’s time for breakfast?’ said Clammer, chuckling.
‘The commander must not be revived until the Xhamin returns,’ said Vee.
‘Revived?’ demanded Bache, staring at Vee. ‘Is the commander in some sort of survival chamber?’
‘He is in his sleep cabin,’ said Vee.
Bache rolled his eyes at Clammer.
‘Vee, is the sleep cabin a machine that keeps the commander alive for long periods?’ Bache asked hopefully.
‘Affirmative.’
‘Where is the commander’s sleep cabin?’ Bache asked.
‘Last cabin down the north walkway,’ said Vee.
‘How long have you been without eyesight?’ asked Clammer.
‘Two hundred and seventeen years, one hundred and thirteen days and four hours.’
‘Is there any way we can fix that?’ said Bache.
‘Enter a full maintenance overview and restart into my command keys,’ said Vee, waving his hand at the panel on his chest.
‘Can’t you do that yourself?’ asked Clammer.
‘Mechadroids are not permitted to alter themselves or their programming in any way.’
‘Ah, right,’ said Bache. ‘I understand now. You’ll have to give me some guidance here, because we don’t understand the language on the keys.’
The android sat on the ground against the wall. ‘Press top right, centre and bottom left together for three seconds,’ it said.
Bache did as he was instructed and watched as Vee went suddenly completely limp. Clammer caught him and lowered him gently to the floor. The keypad flashed a couple of times and Vee’s limbs twitched randomly as the restart and maintenance programme went through its routine.
A chime sounded in Bache’s suit again, warning him he’d used seventy-five percent of his oxygen supply.
‘Ah, crap,’ he said. ‘Come on Vee, wakey wakey.’ He reached for another visor wipe and cleaned two hundred years of crud off the android’s eye lenses.
Vee sat up straight and looked around, then stood, the panel on its chest closing again.
‘Can you see now?’ Clammer asked.
‘I am mechadroid designation V1438903/2. What are my duties?’ Vee asked.
Bache and Clammer looked at each other.
‘You need to show us where the environmental filters are,’ said Bache.
‘I’m sorry, I’m not familiar with this facility,’ it said. ‘More data required.’
‘Oh, skata,’ said Bache. ‘Its memory has been wiped with the restart.’