Free Edge of Solace (A Star Too Far) by Casey Calouette Page B

thirty seconds the rings will lock. You’re going in.”
    William slid his hands on the console. The docking routine counted down until a green light blinked. “We’re docked, ma’am.”
    “Mr. Zinkov, you’re a go.”
    The Marines locked onto the hatch and popped it with a gentle hiss. The airlock was large, cargo sized, and well lit. They tossed a box into the center and retreated backwards. The airlock hissed and closed, leaving the box inside.
    “I want those feeds , Mr. Grace,” Captain Khan said.
    “On the left.” William pointed to an unused screen.
    The drone feed flickered into view. The small constructs darted to the edge of the airlock door and waited for the pressure to equalize. The screen bounced slightly from the left to right.
    “Can you fix the feed?”
    “No, ma’am, the drone is getting ready to move inside.”
    The airlock irised open. A wide open cargo area expanded beyond. Deep bays disappeared into darkness. Large cases, crates, and containers were arrayed throughout the hold.
    In a sudden flurry of activity the drones swarmed inwards and broke into multiple vectors. The heads panned, caught the other drones, and coordinated the movement inside. A few seconds later the drones were all on their own.
    “What I’d do for a strider,” Petty Officer Gereau mumbled.
    Captain Khan slid an eye towards Gereau and didn’t say a word.
    The drones picked through the menagerie of goods before assuming positions throughout the hold. They clung like metallic spiders and watched.
    The Marines surged into the hold with weapons raised. The motion was smooth and seamless as they sidestepped around corners. Each squad was supported by a bolo tosser in case of a close quarters strider encounter.
    The bolo was two dense weights with a meter long cord between them. The cord had a tensile strength close to the ribbon of a space elevator. The launcher was a simple design, akin to a crossbow of old without the horizontal limbs. It was a weapon that had sat on the files for a long time, and only recently been pulled out when the Sa’Ami became a threat.
    The Marines swept the entire hold. They, too, found nothing.
    “Hold is clear, we’ve got a sealed bulkhead, needs command auth,” Sergeant Goldstein clicked over.
    “Mr. Grace, suit up, head over, and assist the Marines,” Captain Khan said.
    William sprinted off the bridge and met up with the support team. He grabbed a suit of spare armor and strapped it on while he walked. The armor was bulky, designed for assault and not mobility. He declined a sidearm and tailed the team in.
    The hold smelled of burnt cheese with a tang of meat gone ripe. The containers were all standard sizes marked with a collection of barcodes recognized nearly anywhere. They lacked designations readable by the human eye. It might be filled with medical equipment or socks.
    Lieutenant Zinkov stood squarely in front of the panel and poked at it with his gloved hand. His nose was wrinkled and his cheek twitched. The helmet cradled under his arm popped out and skidded on the floor when he saw William. “M-m-m-”
    “Lieutenant, allow me.” William slid in front of the Marine and checked the screen. It was sealed, it displayed a message about a corporate relocation of personnel due to dangerous circumstances. He keyed in his authorization code and watched as the lights turned green. The door clunked open.
    Inside the hallway , pale LED lights blinked on. The passage was bathed in a white light that was almost too intense. William stood aside and waved his arm towards the opening. “After you, Mr. Zinkov.”
    Inside was more of the same. A station evacuated and secured. It felt hollow, like a giant abandoned warehouse.
    “Bridge, this is Grace. Everything is shutdown. Station is clear.” William walked back into the center of the hold and peered around. “Could someone bring a code reader? Nothing here is marked.”
    The Marines arrayed throughout the hold and the living quarters