‘Wow,’ was Ed’s reaction as the cruiser’s massive holomap updated with the details of the Exoplismoi or Exo system. ‘You were right,’ he continued. ‘That is one monster of a planet.’
It reminded Ed of Mars because of its red glow, only this planet was eight times as big and provided a completely unending supply of high-yield iron ore.
‘We need to be wary,’ said Pickyrd. ‘There are over a thousand shipyards in orbit around Sidero, and although it’s not as busy as Dasos, the mass of ship movements here can be extensive. They don’t police the traffic as rigidly here either, so you get ships being tested and commissioned all the time. Test pilots are a strange breed and seem totally incapable of flying in a straight line at a constant speed.’
Ed smiled and remembered that was exactly the same thing James Dewey had complained about NASA pilots recruited direct from the fighter squadrons. He watched as the magnification increased and dozens of spacecraft construction platforms loomed into focus.
‘Is that a space elevator?’ he asked, pointing to an octagonal station in a low orbit, trailing a string into the upper atmosphere.
‘One of three,’ said Pickyrd. ‘One is used solely for personnel and the other two are for the mined ore.’
‘It’s here,’ said one of the duty array officers.
‘What is?’ Ed asked.
‘The Tallin ship, perhaps?’ asked Pickyrd, turning to the array officer and raising his eyebrows.
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Where?’
‘Docked to the upper decks of this construction platform here, Captain.’
A huge, ugly, grey behemoth of a station rapidly expanded to dominate the entire holomap.
‘At least it’s of identical design and specification, sir, and the platform is owned by—’
‘Don’t tell me – Salft Engineering?’ Pickyrd said, folding his arms across his chest.
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Judging by the hive of activity, it looks like there could be a ship under construction in there too,’ said Ed. ‘Strange we can’t see it like on the other stations.’
‘That’s actually a good point, Edward,’ said Pickyrd, stopping and staring at the holomap. ‘To completely enclose a construction yard would be expensive, time consuming and in almost every way, pretty pointless.’
‘Unless it was a classified project,’ said Ed.
‘Hmm,’ grunted Pickyrd, turning back to the array officer. ‘Can we get a look inside there, Lieutenant?’
‘No, sir,’ came the reply. ‘They have some sort of anti-surveillance shield.’
‘Do they now?’ Pickyrd mused. ‘That makes me even more determined to see what they’re up to.’
‘Hang on,’ said Ed, closing his eyes and activating his DOVI. He found he could circumvent the basic shield and enter the station’s systems through the crew’s entertainment feed. Then it was an easy crossover into the station’s maintenance programmes and on into the security software.
Pickyrd was looking at him strangely, when Ed finally reopened his eyes.
‘Give it a go now,’ he said, glancing down at the array officer with a grin.
The lieutenant nodded and began touching icons floating in front of him.
‘I now have access to the camera feeds, sir.’
‘What did you just do?’ Pickyrd asked.
‘Wizardry,’ Ed replied, thinking that was something Andy would’ve said.
‘And what exactly is—’
‘Sir, you might want to see this,’ said the lieutenant, interrupting Pickyrd.
The holomap above them changed to a wide view of the inside of the Salft Engineering yard. Activity on the bridge ceased as all present turned and looked up at the strange ship nearing completion. It completely filled the interior of the yard, but from the camera view they had down one side, it was obvious the vessel was a rounded octagonal tube several kilometres long, with eight curved arms stretching out and back from its midpoint. The ship’s colour was striking too: a dark matt grey, with light blue highlighted stripes, some running lengthways and others across the hull. The rear of the ship splayed out like the opening of a flower, with dozens of what seemed like cooling towers below.
‘What type of ship is that?’ Ed asked, fascinated by the intricate design.
‘It’s not a class of vessel I’ve ever come across before,’ said Pickyrd.
‘Not GDA then?’
Pickyrd shook his head.
‘It’s not in the database either, sir,’ said the lieutenant, glancing between the ship and his readout. ‘That really is something very new.’
‘New and secret,’ said Ed. ‘As Salft Engineering seem to be in the middle this plot, we would be wise to find out what that thing is, who it’s for and whether it’s civilian or military.’
‘I agree,’ said Pickyrd. ‘Although it doesn’t seem to have any obvious weapon emplacements.’
‘Nor does the Gabriel,’ replied Ed.
‘Good point,’ said Pickyrd.
‘The majority of personnel aboard seem to be Klatt,’ said the lieutenant, looking over his shoulder at them.
‘Spleeta too,’ said Pickyrd. ‘Do we have any feeds from the upper decks where that Tallin ship is docked?’
‘No, sir. There don’t seem to be any cameras on the top two levels at all.’
‘Owner’s accommodation,’ said Ed. ‘It’s the same as the Salft yard on Jagnorite.’
Pickyrd suddenly stepped closer to the holomap and squinted.
‘What was that?’ he asked, pointing to something moving slowly away from the yard almost indistinguishable from the backdrop of stars. ‘Pan in here. Something was ejected off the station.’
The array officer zoomed in on an airlock near where the Tallin ship was docked, causing a murmur of shock to echo around the bridge, as everyone realised it was a human body.
‘I think we know where that fucking Skirmat Eagle is,’ said Ed, through clenched teeth. ‘Murdering piece of shit.’
‘We don’t know that’s him,’ said Pickyrd.
The lieutenant panned the feed across from the floating body to the airlock, where a familiar face peered through the inner airlock porthole, disappearing as the outer door slowly closed.
Pickyrd rolled his eyes, exhaled and slumped back on his raised seat.
‘Okay, we do now,’ he said.
Ed turned from Pickyrd back to the holomap just as the operator panned back to show the whole station again.
‘We need to find a way onto that thing,’ said Ed. ‘This time without that bastard knowing about it.’
‘I’m open to suggestions,’ said Pickyrd.
Ed adopted a rueful grin.
‘I might have a way,’ he said.