City of Ruins - By Kristine Kathryn Rusch Page 0,94

hand here. So let’s use it.” He turned his attention back to the screen.

All seven had come into the repair room, and they were using a flanking maneuver he hadn’t seen since military training. Half of the woman’s team wore the same kind of mask she did. The rest still had on their helmets, which had to limit visibility.

They all carried those laser pistols, and the hands of at least three of the seven shook as they clutched the grip.

Great. Amateurs. Frightened amateurs.

This could get dangerous.

He almost rescinded the order to Perkins, thinking he didn’t want his people in the middle of a group of scared amateurs. Then he changed his mind. The amateurs would be scared no matter what, and then, if his people didn’t appear, they’d get emboldened.

He needed to retain this upper hand.

“Dix,” Coop said, “I need Rossetti up here now.”

“Yes, sir,” Dix said.

“You’re sending them out immediately?” Yash asked.

Perkins shot her an almost angry glance, then hurried off the bridge, as her absence would prevent him from changing his mind.

“No,” Coop said. “I’m going to give the outsiders an hour. They need to regroup, think a bit, calm down. We surprised them. The last thing we should do is surprise them again.”

“I think you should observe more,” Yash said.

“Duly noted,” Coop said, closing debate. “What are those weapons, Anita?”

“Laser pistols,” she said. “They have the right power signature, but they’re pretty unwieldy. I wouldn’t want to fire one.”

“I assume they’ll do a lot of damage if they hit someone?” he asked.

“Can’t tell without actually test-firing one. But that’s a safe assumption.”

He watched the outsiders, slowly exploring the room, clearly responding to commands. The woman kept glancing at one of the screens; it seemed to make her nervous.

They all made Coop nervous. The screens were all tied to ships within the sector, and showed what the ships saw. But, logically, there shouldn’t be any ships in the sector. They should have left decades ago with the Fleet.

The visual that disturbed him the most was the one the woman kept glancing at-—three screens down, it looked as if he were looking at some kind of station, one he didn’t recognize.

Questions, questions, and more questions.

He hoped that once his people talked to the outsiders, he would finally start getting answers.

* * * *

FORTY-NINE

I

know we’re being watched. I can feel it, even if I can’t see it. I’ve had the feeling from the beginning that we weren’t alone, and now I have confirmation of it.

Yet there’s no one visible in this gigantic room.

“Did we interrupt them?” Seager asks, her voice shaking. “Are they hiding from us?”

“Have you looked at that ship?” Quinte says. “Do you know how many people can be in that thing?”

The best guess of our own tech people is that the average Dignity Vessel held at least one hundred people, and possibly as many as a thousand. It depended on how many were needed to run the various ship’s systems, and how many people got crammed into the various rooms.

I have always doubted the thousand number. The rooms on the partially intact Dignity Vessels we found looked more like suites or apartments than single bunks. But who knew how these ships were used.

And really, we don’t know what they were used for.

What they are used for.

I look up at the side, exactly where the cockpit is on every single Dignity Vessel I’ve encountered. I stand in front of it for a long time, just to make sure that they’re all watching me.

And then I slowly, carefully, ostentatiously, holster my laser pistol.

“Boss! Don’t!” Rea says. “We have no idea if they’re hostile!”

“If they’re hostile, they would have lain in wait for us,” I say. “They observed us the last two times we were here. This time, they would have sent out a small crew, and blasted us away.”

At least that is what I would have done. If I felt threatened by people coming near my ship, and I thought those people were dangerous, I’d attack first and ask questions later.

I extend my hands, showing that they’re empty.

Come and see me, I’m trying to say. We’re harmless. Let’s talk.

But the door remains closed.

“Put your weapons away,” I say to my team.

“I don’t want to,” Rea says.

“I don’t think it’s wise,” Kersting says.

“Can’t some of us keep them?” Seager asks.

That seems the most sensible. A few weapons, but not a bunch. The problem is that I doubt anyone except me and Rea have experience with weapons, and I’m not really