City of Ruins - By Kristine Kathryn Rusch Page 0,86

to repeat the experience of waiting in those corridors with nothing to do. They’re not trained divers like Mikk and Roderick. Al-Nasir and Quinte are not used to waiting long periods of time.

I see no harm in letting them accompany us into the room.

So I let them.

We go in as silently as we can. I go first, which is risky, because I have no idea if we’re alone. I’m worried that we’ll encounter someone—or lots of someones, someones who think we’re invading their private area, someones who are used to this place when we are not.

I’ve been thinking about it all night, and I have found myself wondering if this isn’t normal for Dignity Vessels. Maybe they have bases like this all over the known universe, dark except when a Dignity Vessel needs repair.

I keep remembering those laser score marks on the side of the ship, and wonder if it was damaged in some kind of fight, and if so, if this is where it is supposed to go for repairs.

Of course, I also wonder if it is a dead ship whose arrival was somehow triggered by us. I spent half the night on that, pacing and worrying that I want to believe this scenario, because that means I can figure out how to open the ship, then go inside and investigate it.

The second scenario also means the Dignity Vessel is mine—or can be mine, if the Vaycehnese government never finds out about it, and we can somehow figure out how to get the ship out of this enclosed underground room.

One problem at a time, though.

We stand at the door. My heart is pounding. I can tell from the readings on the Six’s environmental suits that their hearts are racing as well. They’re trying to control their breathing, but they’re as nervous as I am, maybe more so. Their palms are sweating, and their suits are trying to cool them down.

I’m not that nervous. But I’m excited.

I can hear Squishy’s voice warning against the gids, and for once, I care. I want to survive this trip into the room, and the next, and the next. I want to enjoy every minute of this discovery.

And I want the discovery to be there.

That’s what really has my heart racing: I’m afraid the Dignity Vessel is gone.

I put my hand on the door itself, ready to push. First, though, I turn to the Six.

“Be prepared for anything,” I say, and then I try the door.

It opens easily. It’s not locked or barricaded.

I step into the room, and the particles swirl around me. I can’t help myself—I immediately look at that landing pad.

The Dignity Vessel is still there.

I let out a small breath. Relief.

I step all the way inside, cautiously. I look around.

To my quick gaze, nothing looks different. The Dignity Vessel sits on the pad, the screens above the equipment show the inside of the room and nothing else, and the rest of the equipment looks like it has been off for a very long time.

Now mingled with the relief is just a bit of disappointment. I half hoped someone would be exploring or using the room. I was ready to have a difficult conversation with one of the people who had arrived on the Dignity Vessel.

But if no one has emerged in forty-eight hours, then I’m more inclined to think the ship is empty, drawn by something we did, some button we pressed, something we activated.

After all, we have found seven half-ruined Dignity Vessels throughout the sector. We have no idea if anything is wrong with this one. For all we know, the interior may be partially destroyed, the controls gone, some part of the vessel that we can’t yet see open to space.

DeVries stops beside me. Rea walks just a little ahead, as if he can’t believe that the Vessel is still there. I can feel Quinte behind me, and I know without looking that Al-Nasir is behind her. Seager is on my other side. The only person I seem to have lost track of is Kersting.

I turn slightly. He has wandered in the opposite direction from me, head tilted back, looking up at the Dignity Vessel.

I sense the awe in his movements, and I smile.

I feel it, too.

“It’s still here,” I say, stating the obvious. But someone has to. I have to let the relief I’m feeling become part of the group’s emotion.

“I didn’t think it would be,” Rea says.

“Me, either,” Seager says.

We all stop. We have an agreed-upon plan

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