Horizon Storms - Kevin J. Anderson [194]
Kotto let the programmed compy pilot do the flying because his own distractibility and fascination with this project might cause him to crash while he stared out the window. The silent compy pilot guided the ship through the obstacle course of drifting rocks out on the fringes of the thin ring. The two Analytical compies, GU and KR, sat patiently, waiting for the work to begin.
“Step one,” Kotto said aloud, “is to perform a general visual assessment of the sphere’s complete exterior. Of course, if we can’t figure out how to get inside, then the outside is all we’ve got.” Attentive GU diligently recorded his every word like a mechanical lab notebook.
By plotting its orbit and calculating drift, Kotto made an accurate assessment of the derelict’s mass, from which he could derive an average density. That gave a few clues (but not many) about the thickness of the diamond hull and what the interior contained.
As the lab shuttle cruised in overlapping circles, spiraling closer to the alien ship, Kotto stared at it, looking for flaws or asymmetries, but the spiked globe seemed absolutely perfect. He could determine no top or bottom. He saw no indication of a hatch.
“So how do the drogues get inside those things? Quite a puzzle.”
For hours he used the full suite of spectral scanners. The derelict was cold, and Kotto could not pinpoint any engines, exhaust ports, or propulsion tubes. If he could figure out the basics, Roamers would have a field day developing secondary inventions from the technological principles.
But he was getting ahead of himself. Obviously, it was impossible to crack the ship open with brute force—at least not by any means Kellum’s crew had at the shipyards. The Eddy military had used their most powerful weapons against these vessels to little effect.
Besides, Kotto didn’t want to damage the thing. He needed to find a different way to get inside.
Holding the lab shuttle steady, he dispatched GU and KR with handheld nondestructive evaluation apparatus. The small robots cycled through the airlock, took their equipment, and applied sensors to the curved diamond skin of the dead hydrogue ship. Then they proceeded to run another complete protocol of tests, sending signals and pulses of light at specific wavelengths known to interact with carbon-carbon bonds.
Finally, Kotto used physical vibrations. GU applied a thumper pad that oscillated like a masseuse, thrumming against the side of the enemy globe. He manipulated the steady vibration, changing the amplitude along a regular progression, hoping to find a perfect resonance. By recording the transmission of acoustic waves, Kotto expected to gather information about the material structure and the derelict’s internal arrangement.
He was surprised when a specific vibrational mode caused a previously invisible hatch to appear, like a circular line scribed on a glass window. Within seconds, as the vibration continued, the hatch disengaged completely and was flung away like a bullet disk at high speed, barely missing the lab shuttle.
The suddenly venting atmosphere from within the hydrogue ship acted like a rocket exhaust, propelling the small sphere away in a tumbling trajectory. A backwash jet of misty air caught one of the research compies and sent it spinning, arms flailing, high up out of the plane of Osquivel’s rings, while the derelict reeled off in another direction.
“Go after it!” Kotto shouted.
The compy pilot looked at him. “Unclear referent. Should I pursue the hydrogue vessel or the compy?”
“The derelict! Oh, and transmit to the compy—is it GU?—that we’ll come back and get him in just a few minutes.”
The lab shuttle raced