The Revelation Space Collection (494 page)

‘Nothing’s happened,’ Martinez said, breaking the silence with a whisper. ‘It still doesn’t know we’re here. The lock is all yours, Ingrid. I’ve already opened our doors.’

Sollis, suited-up now, moved into the lock tube with her toolkit. While she worked, the rest of us finished putting on our own suits and armour, completing the exercise as quietly as possible. I hadn’t worn a spacesuit before, but Norbert was there to help all of us with the unfamiliar process: his huge hands attended to delicate connections and catches with surprising dexterity. Once I had the suit on, it didn’t feel much different from wearing full-spectrum bioarmour, and I quickly got the hang of the life-support indicators projected around the border of my faceplate. I would only need to pay minor attention to them: unless there was some malfunction, the suit had enough power and supplies to keep me alive in perfect comfort for three days; longer if I was prepared to tolerate a little less comfort. None of us were planning on spending anywhere near that long aboard Nightingale.

Sollis was nearly done when we assembled behind her in the lock. The inner and outer lock doors on our side were open, exposing the grey outer door of the hospital ship, held tight against the docking connector by pressure-tight seals. I doubted that she’d ever had to break into a ship before, but nothing about the mechanism appeared to be causing Sollis any difficulties. She’d tugged open an access panel and plugged in a fistful of coloured cables, running back to a jury-rigged electronics module in her toolkit. She was tapping a little keyboard, causing patterns of lights to alter within the access panel. The face of a woman - blank, expressionless, yet at the same time somehow severe and unforgiving - had appeared in an oval frame above the access panel.

‘Who’s that?’ I asked.

‘That’s
Nightingale,
’ Sollis said, adding, by way of explanation, ‘The ship had its own gamma-level personality, keeping the whole show running. Pretty smart piece of thinkware by all accounts: full Turing compliance; about as clever as you can make a machine before you have to start giving it human rights.’

I looked at the stern-faced woman, expecting her to query us at any moment. I imagined her harsh and hectoring voice demanding to know what business any of us had boarding Nightingale, trespassing aboard her ship, her hospital.

‘Does she know . . .’ I started.

Sollis shook her head. ‘This is just a dumb facet of the main construct. Not only is it inactive - the image is frozen into the door’s memory - but it doesn’t appear to have any functioning data links back to the main sentience engine. Do you,
Nightingale?
’

The face gazed at us impassively, but still said nothing.

‘See: deadsville. My guess is the sentience engine isn’t running at all. Out here, the ship wouldn’t need much more than a trickle of intelligence to keep itself ticking over.’

‘So the gamma’s off-line?’

‘Uh-huh. Best way, too. You don’t want one of those things sitting around too long without something to do.’

‘Why not?’

‘’Cause they tend to go nuts. That’s why the Conjoiners won’t allow gamma-level intelligences in any of their machines. They say it’s a kind of slavery.’

‘Running a hospital must have been enough to stop
Nightingale
’s gamma running off the rails.’

‘Let’s hope so. Let’s really hope so.’ Sollis glanced back at her work, then emitted a grunt of satisfaction as a row of lights flicked to orange. She unplugged a bunch of coloured cables and looked back at the waiting party. ‘Okay: we’re good to go. I can open the door any time you’re ready.’

‘What’s on the other side of it?’ I asked.

‘According to the door, air: normal trimix. Bitchingly cold, but not frozen. Pressure’s manageable. I’m not sure we could breathe it, but—’

‘We’re not breathing anything,’ Martinez said curtly. ‘Our airlock will take two people. One of them will have to be you, Ingrid, since you know how to work the mechanism. I shall accompany you, and then we shall wait for the others on the far side, when we have established that conditions are safe.’

‘Maybe one of us should go through instead of you,’ I said, wondering why Norbert hadn’t volunteered to go through ahead of his master. ‘We’re expendable, but you aren’t. Without you, Jax doesn’t go down.’

‘Considerate of you, Dexia, but I paid you to assist me, not take risks on my behalf.’

Martinez propelled himself forward. Norbert, Nicolosi and I edged back to permit the inner door to close again. On the common suit channel I heard Sollis say, ‘We’re opening
Nightingale.
Stand by: comms might get a bit weaker once we’re on the other side of all this metal.’

Nicolosi pushed past me, back into the flight deck. I heard the heavy whine of servos as the door opened. Breathing and scuffling sounds followed, but nothing that alarmed me.

‘Okay,’ Sollis said, ‘we’re moving into
Nightingale
’s lock. Closing the outer door behind us. When you need to open it again, hit any key on the pad.’

‘Still no sign of life,’ Nicolosi called.

‘The inner door looks as if it’ll open without any special encouragement from me,’ Sollis said. ‘Should be just a matter of pulling down this lever . . . you ready?’

‘Do it, Ingrid,’ Martinez replied.

More servos, fainter now. After a few moments, Sollis reported back: ‘We’re inside. No surprises yet. Floating in some kind of holding bay, about ten metres wide. It’s dark, of course. There’s a doorway leading out through the far wall: might lead to the main corridor that should pass close to this lock.’

I remembered to turn on my helmet lamp.

‘Can you open both lock doors?’ Nicolosi asked.

‘Not at the same time, not without a lot of trouble that might get us noticed.’

‘Then we’ll come through in two passes. Norbert: you go first. Dexia and I will follow.’

It took longer than I’d have liked, but eventually all five of us were on the other side of the lock. I’d only been weightless once, during the recuperation programme after my injury, but the memory of how to move - at least without making too much of a fool of myself - was still there, albeit dimly. The others were coping about as well. The combined effects of our helmet lamps banished the darkness to the corners of the room, emphasizing the deeper gloom of the open doorway Sollis had mentioned. It occurred to me that somewhere deep in that darkness was Colonel Jax, or whatever was left of him.

Nervously, I checked that the slug-gun was still clipped to my belt.

‘Call up your helmet maps,’ Martinez said. ‘Does everyone have an overlay and a positional fix?’

‘I’m good,’ I said, against a chorus from the other three, and acutely aware of how easy it would be to get lost aboard a ship as large as
Nightingale
if that positional fix were to break down.

‘Check your weapons and suit systems. We’ll keep comms to a minimum all the way in.’

‘I’ll lead,’ Nicolosi said, propelling himself into the darkness of the doorway before anyone could object.

I followed hard on his heels, trying not to get out of breath with the effort of keeping up. There were loops and rails along all four walls of the shaft, so movement consisted of gliding from one handhold to the next, with only air resistance to stop one drifting all the way. We were covering one metre a second, easily: at that rate, it wouldn’t take long to cross the entire width of the ship, which would mean we’d somehow missed the axial corridor we were looking for, or that it simply didn’t exist. But just when it was beginning to strike me that we’d gone too far, Nicolosi slowed. I grabbed a handhold to stop myself slamming into his feet.

He looked back at us, his helmet lamp making me squint. ‘Here’s the main corridor, just a bit deeper than we were expecting. Runs both ways.’

‘We turn left,’ Martinez said, in not much more than a whisper. ‘Turn left and follow it for one hundred metres, maybe one hundred and twenty, until we meet the centrifuge section. It should be a straight crawl, with no obstructions.’

Nicolosi turned away, then looked back. ‘I can’t see more than twenty metres into the corridor. We may as well see where it goes.’

‘Nice and slowly,’ Martinez urged.

We moved forward, along the length of the hull. In the instants when I was coasting from one handhold to the next, I held my breath and tried to hear the ambient noises of the ship, relayed to my helmet by the suit’s acoustic pick-up. Mostly all I heard was the scuffing progress of the others, the hiss and hum of their own life-support packs. Other than that,
Nightingale
was as silent as when we’d approached. If the ship was aware of our intrusion, there was no sign of it.

We’d made maybe forty metres from the junction - at least a third of the distance we had to travel before hitting the centrifuge - when Nicolosi slowed. I caught a handhold before I drifted into his heels, then looked back to make sure the others had got the message.

‘Problem?’ Martinez asked.

‘There’s a T-junction right ahead. I didn’t think we were expecting a T-junction.’

‘We weren’t,’ Martinez said, ‘but it shouldn’t surprise us that the real ship deviates from the schematic here and there. As long as we don’t reach a dead end, we can still keep moving towards the colonel.’

‘You want to flip a coin, or shall I do it?’ Nicolosi said, looking back at us over his shoulder, his face picked out by my helmet light.

‘There’s no indication, no sign on the wall?’

‘Blank either way.’

‘In which case take the left,’ Martinez said, before glancing at Norbert. ‘Agreed?’

‘Agreed,’ the big man said. ‘Take left, then next right. Continue.’

Nicolosi kicked off, and the rest of us followed. I kept an eye on my helmet’s inertial compass, gratified when it detected our change of direction, even though the overlay now showed us moving through what should have been a solid wall.

We’d moved twenty or thirty metres when Nicolosi slowed again. ‘Tunnel bends to the right,’ he reported. ‘Looks like we’re back on track. Everyone cool with this?’

‘Cool,’ I said.

But we’d only made another fifteen or twenty metres of progress along the new course when Nicolosi slowed and called back again. ‘We’re coming up on a heavy door - some kind of internal airlock. Looks as if we’re going to need Sollis again.’

‘Let me through,’ she said, and I squeezed aside so she could edge past me, trying to avoid knocking our suits together. In addition to the weapons she’d selected from the armoury, Sollis’s suit was also hung with all manner of door-opening tools, clattering against each other as she moved. I didn’t doubt that she’d be able to get through any kind of door, given time. But the idea of spending hours inside
Nightingale
, while we inched from one obstruction to the next, didn’t exactly fill me with enthusiasm.

We let Sollis examine the door: we could hear her ruminating over the design, tutting, humming and talking softly to herself under her breath. She had panels open and equipment plugged in, just like before. The same unwelcoming face glowered from an oval display.

After a couple of minutes, Martinez sighed and asked, ‘Is there a problem, Ingrid?’

‘There’s no problem. I can get this door open in about ten seconds. I just want to make damned sure this is another of Nightingale’s dumb facets. That means sensing the electrical connections on either side of the frame. Of course, if you’d rather we just stormed on through—’

‘Keep voice down,’ Norbert rumbled.

‘I’m wearing a spacesuit, dickhead.’

‘Pressure outside. Sound travel, air to glass, glass to air.’

‘You have five minutes,’ Martinez said, decisively. ‘If you haven’t found what you’re looking for by then, we open the door anyway. And Norbert’s right: let’s keep the noise down.’

‘So, no pressure then,’ Sollis muttered.

But in three minutes she started unplugging her tools, and turned aside with a beaming look on her face. ‘It’s just an emergency airlock, in case this part of the ship depressurises.’

‘But it isn’t on the schematic.’

‘It ain’t a blueprint, Scarrow. Like the old man told us, it’s just a guess. If people remembered stuff wrong, or if the ship got changed after they were abroad . . . we’re going to run into discrepancies.’

‘No danger that tripping it will alert the rest of
Nightingale
?’ I asked.

‘Can’t ever say there’s no risk, but I’m happy for us to go through.’

‘Open the door,’ Martinez said. ‘Everyone brace in case there’s vacuum or atmosphere under pressure on the other side.’

We followed his instructions, but when the door opened the air remained as still as before. Beyond, picked out by our wavering lights, was a short stretch of corridor terminating in an identical-looking door. This time there was enough room for all of us to squeeze through, while Sollis attended to the second lock mechanism. Some hardwired system required that the first door be closed before the second one could be opened, but that posed us no real difficulties. Now that Sollis knew what to look for, she worked much faster: good at her job and happy for us all to know it. I didn’t doubt that she’d be even faster on the way out.