Have Tech, Will Travel (SCE Books 1-4) - Keith R. A. DeCandido_. [et al.] [104]
The only illumination in the engineering section was that provided by the helmets of the five away-team members’ environment suits. As powerful as they were, the lamps didn’t do enough to drive away the enveloping darkness of the large chamber for Gomez’s taste. Dust and dirt floated all around them, free from the restraint of gravity. It gave the room a murky feel that Gomez likened to disturbed silt on an ocean floor.
“What was that?” Gold called out, detecting movement from the corner of his eye and jerking around in response. As his helmet lamp shone on the source of the movement, he felt bile rise in his throat.
Drifting unencumbered in the open space of the cavernous chamber was a skeleton, what Gold presumed to be the remains of a Defiant engineer. It still wore the black pants and red shirt common to engineering and security personnel on Federation starships in the 2260’s, though the boots that completed the uniform had fallen away from the skeleton’s feet. No doubt they were still floating elsewhere about the room.
“Oh my God,” the captain whispered.
“Captain, there’s something else,” Lense added, her tricorder beeping in her hand. “The majority of what we see floating around us isn’t dirt or dust. It’s what’s left of the decomposed bodies of the people who died in this compartment. I’m picking up similar readings throughout the ship.”
Gomez shuddered at the thought of maneuvering through the interior of this dead ship, the remains of its crew floating all about her, stepping through it and having it settle on her suit as she walked. She had prepared herself to deal with looking at the bodies of dead crewmen during the mission, even decomposed ones. This unanticipated twist, however, made an already tense and depressing situation even more morose.
Perhaps sensing the pall that had been cast over the room by their discovery, Gold said, “If we weren’t sure why we came here, then we should be now.” He indicated the drifting skeleton. “If nothing else, our job is to make sure that these men and women finally get to go home.”
“Only trace amounts of oxygen in the atmosphere,” Gomez said as she consulted her tricorder. “We won’t be able to work without our suits if we can’t restore life support.”
Gold nodded. “The ship’s been out here a long time, so there’s no telling what long-term effects the rift had on her. Plus, we don’t know what she’s been exposed to on the other side of the rift.”
“Perhaps the ship’s computer . . . recorded data received by automatic sensors before power . . . was lost,” Soloman said. Formerly known as 110, the Bynar had changed his name after finally coming to terms with the tragic loss of his mate, 111, during an earlier mission.
110 had wrestled with the question of whether or not to return to his home planet and seek out another mate, but had finally decided against it. No other would ever be able to replace the one with whom he had shared so much. So rather than do something that would, in his eyes at least, diminish the memory of his life’s love, 110 elected to remain with the da Vinci . But a Bynar without a mate was not a normal occurrence and by remaining unbonded, the use of his designation would not have been proper. 110 therefore decided that a new mode of address was needed. Captain Gold had inadvertently provided that by referring to the Bynar’s unique status as a “solo man.”
“We’ll have time to examine the computer records later,” Gomez said. “But first we have to get some power back into this old girl.” She activated her suit’s communicator. “Gomez to da Vinci .”
“Da Vinci. Duffy here.”
“Kieran, everything’s clear here. Send over our equipment.”
“Aye, aye, Commander. Stand by.”
A few seconds passed before transporter energy flared into existence and a group of cargo containers materialized.