Wasteland of flint

"Clip on." Gunso Fitzsimmons tossed Deckard a monofil line tab. The corporal caught the metal hook deftly and snugged the line to his belt with the ease of long practice. Both Marines had dialed down the audio on their comm sets, so the argument on the bridge of the Cornuelle was reduced to a dull thunder in the background.

"Clipped," Deckard replied after testing the line. He slung the angular black shape of his shipgun over one shoulder, and adjusted his gloves, bringing magnetic surfaces around to the palms. Fitzsimmons removed the little winch from his belt and adhered the metal box to the doorframe of the power conduit accessway. "Anchored."

"Anchors away, then." Deckard gri

"Quietly now," Fitzsimmons breathed over the combat cha

Then he could see inside the cluttered, dirty cockpit of the shuttle, and – through the pressure door into the main cabin – two people sitting on facing piles of bedding. As he watched, the man tossed a playing card onto a pile between himself and the woman. Moisture was dripping from the walls of the shuttle, and the sergeant made a face. Mold? They're certainly alive. Not disintegrated at all…

Taking a breath, Fitzsimmons dialed up the volume on his comm.

"…the ship is entirely safe," Gretchen said, again, her voice rising slightly. "We've had men aboard for two hours and no one has been affected, there are waste gases loose in the boat bay, and they have not been destroyed -"

Hadeishi, his patience fraying – though only the sergeant or one of the crew would have been able to tell – interrupted. "Doctor Anderssen, I will not put my men, or my ship, at risk. Until we know exactly what happened and why, I will not put another man or woman aboard the Palenque."

"Ah, sir? Hadeishi-san?" Fitzsimmons made a face in the privacy of his suit. Luckily, the cameras only pointed forward, not at his gri

"Hai, Gunso?"

"There are at least two people alive inside the shuttle, sir. They've been there quite awhile. Shall I go aboard and see what they know?"

"No," Hadeishi said, a slight edge in his voice. "If the contaminant is still loose on the Palenque, you'll only place them in danger. Hook up your exterior comm to the shuttle's data port and talk to them that way."

One of the other cha

"Aye, aye, sir." Fitzsimmons signaled to Deckard, then took two long, bounding steps to reach the shuttle's airlock. The corporal walked sideways down the hull to meet him, spooling up the monofil as he went. "Time for first contact, Corporal. Undog the comm port cover, would you?"

"We don't really know what happened. They just fell over, you know, and we couldn't raise anyone on the ship-to-ship comm cha

Gretchen suppressed a sigh, staring at two grimy faces framed by the shuttle's v-cam. On her left, security team crewman Carlos Fuentes' bearded visage stared out at her with sick desperation. Beside him, nose screwed up in a grimace, her entire body turned away from Fuentes, crewwoman Delores Flores seemed equally despondent.

"Tell me what you saw," Gretchen said, again. "From the begi

"Well, ah…" Carlos groped for the proper words.

"Shut up, idiot," Delores said, pushing him out of the field of view. "I'll tell you, ma'am. We've been having problems with the shuttle engines since we arrived," the crewwoman began. "After five or six trips down to the base camp, they started showing warning lights in the afterburner and air intake ducts. Finally, shuttle two refused to power up groundside – claimed the engine would overheat. So we took number one down to base camp and pulled the entire engine assembly out of number two." She jerked her thumb over one shoulder. Something large and bulky, wrapped with shockfoam and cables, filled most of the cargo space on the shuttle.

"We brought up Doc Clarkson at the same time – he was in a big hurry! And Doctor McCue – she wasn't in such a hurry. They went upstairs, but we were working down here to prep this bastard to unload."

"Did anyone else ride up with you? Did you close the airlock after Clarkson and McCue left the shuttle?" Gretchen was chewing on the stub end of a pointing stylus.

"Always!" Delores nodded sharply, waving her hand off to one side. "Standard procedure. The bay doors are airtight, but the boat bay is considered an unsecured environment. You lock in and out of the bay, or the shuttles when they're aboard. And it was just those two. No one else wanted to ride up with them, not when they were in such a mood!"

"When did you notice something was wrong on the ship?"

"An alarm went off shipside," Delores said. "We heard the horn go off and I ran into the cockpit. Carlos -" The crewwoman's lip twisted slightly "- called the bridge. We heard some noise, some shouting for maybe thirty seconds, and then nothing." She pointed off toward the front of the shuttle. "Then the lock cycled and engineer PГўtecatl and two others ran into the bay. I called on the comm, and she said something was attacking the ship. Then she made sort of a choking noise, we saw a hot glow inside their helmets – and all three of them fell over."

"And then?" Gretchen frowned at the ragged plastic end of her stylus.

"They didn't move. We couldn't get anyone on the ship-to-ship cha

"You can have a bath when we get you out," Gretchen promised with a smile. "But right now we have to figure out how to get you out of there safely. I'll call you back in a moment."

She shut down the cha

"Yes, Anderssen-tzin?" He seemed tense, and she knew he was bracing for another argument about the quarantine.

"I would like to transfer my crew and supplies – and the loan of a fuel cell, if you will – to the Palenque."

For a moment, Hadeishi said nothing, staring at her with narrowed eyes. At his side, the lieutenant allowed herself the ghost of a smile. Then the captain visibly shook himself and nodded.

"You're sure of your analysis? Sure enough to risk yourself and your team?"

"Yes," Gretchen said in a firm voice. Oh lord, I hope so! But we can't just sit here for weeks. Every day burns away at our nonexistent budget and our tiny little bonuses.

"Very well." Hadeishi glanced at his exec, who had stepped down to her own board, attention already focused on her lading schedules, thin rose-colored lips moving silently. "Kosho-sana, we will leave Sergeant Fitzsimmons and Corporal Deckard aboard as a, ah, loan to Anderssen-tzin and her group. For the moment. After the quarantine period has passed, we will want them back." The captain raised an eyebrow at Gretchen, who smiled in relief.