Chase suspected it wasn’t the only door on the ship that required it, and once that was started, it would be a whole job of its own. Probably why it hadn’t yet been done.

He passed a computer interface in the corridor’s wall and tapped it, selecting the communications panel. He had the computer notify Dryden to head for the shuttle bay.

The shuttle bay was on the lowest deck. A single shuttle with space to dock a second was at the bottom of the ship’s hold. A large access door was on the floor of the deck, allowing the shuttle to descend from the ship. Above the shuttle, a massive grappler, clearly to lift or lower auxiliary craft, hung from the ceiling.

“You want to come in here,” Martinez told Chase as he and Dryden entered the bay. Martinez walked over to a large door behind which was a collection of storage lockers. He was withdrawing several large sets of cold-weather gear and the ship’s environmental suits.

“It doesn’t look like the planet goes much above freezing,” said Martinez, holding a large hooded coat that he passed to Chase. “We’ll need these.”

The shuttle itself wasn’t in much better condition than the Mary Rose. There were another two sets of seats in the rear, obviously to serve as the ship’s main evacuation facilities should the need arise.

A small ship like Mary Rose didn’t come equipped with escape pods on every deck. Chase didn’t want to give too much thought to the time he would need to cross the entire ship to the shuttle bay from the bridge in an emergency without the use of lifts. He would just have to accept that if they got into a firefight, it would probably be game over. He chuckled at his own gallows humour and got a surprised look from the other two.

Dryden fired up the shuttle’s systems, and the craft shook as the grappler lowered it toward the docking bay doors.

“What odds are you offering this time?” Martinez asked Dryden, who shrugged.

“The Trafalgar isn’t real; it was a myth,” said Dryden.

“Why are you here if you think it’s a myth?” Chase asked, somewhat confused.

“You’re career Navy; you know you don’t get to turn down an assignment.” Chase nodded; that was true.

“It’s like Harding said, with a lot of his expeditions, the novelty has worn off,” said Dryden. “I don’t think this one is it, guys,” he added.

The shuttle hit the atmosphere, and turbulence kicked in. The cloud was thick and took longer than normal for them to clear it. When they did, the surface was covered in snow, and the light was pretty clear.

“What’s that?” Chase asked, pointing at a dark spot on the otherwise white landscape. Dryden entered something into the shuttle’s controls and adjusted course.

It got bigger as they headed closer.

“Yup, that’s a ship, all right. I’m not picking up any signals, definitely no lifelines. From the looks of things, it’s been here a while,” said Dryden. They came in close, and Dryden put them in an arc, swinging around.

“Do you think they never painted the name on the hull?” asked Martinez.

“We would be lucky if they had,” said Dryden. Chase made out some lighter shapes against the dark grey of the ship’s hull.

“I think they have,” Chase said, “but it was damaged in the crash.” He felt an unexpected rush of excitement.

“This could be it,” he said.

“I told Harding this was a pointless endeavour,” Dryden told them, “but she insisted we do things by the book.” Chase assumed the book gave them a very limited scope for potential leads.

“The readings indicate the ship is from a similar timeframe, but from the design, it looks too new,” said Martinez.

“It’s not military,” added Dryden.

“You could be onto something,” replied Martinez. “It looks much more like some kind of liner.” They swung round for another view. The ship was old, but not two and a half centuries.

“We need a positive ID,” said Martinez.

“All right,” said Dryden, “I’m bringing her in for a landing.” He cut the thrusters and came up alongside the bow of the wreck site. Martinez had been studying the hull.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

“There is quite a large breach on the port side. We should be able to gain access. If it is a liner, they usually had identifying markers on each deck,” he said.

“Yeah, agreed,” said Dryden. “Most areas should have an assembly point or an onboard deck plan. We’ll stick the name front and centre. You never know; they might consider this an important discovery.” Martinez grinned.

Gaining access had not been easy. The ship’s hull was fractured, but it didn’t quite come down to ground level. The decks, once they had gained access, were tilted ever so slightly from the ship, hitting the surface at an angle.

“Be careful,” said Martinez. “Some of these decks likely gave way over the years,”

Chase nodded, not one to question sensible advice. He pulled his helmet on and locked it into position, taking a moment to get used to breathing canned air.

From the bridge, they climbed up a staircase and found themselves in the crew galley. The floor was covered in kitchen instruments, and large pots and pans were thrown everywhere. A sink had a white streak below the tap; clearly, it had been on when the ship went down and continued running until the water tanks were empty. They proceeded through the galley into a narrow corridor.

“It looks like one of the decks used for housing the onboard staff,” said Martinez. They reached the junction between several adjoining corridors, and Martinez turned, lifting a flashlight around the various walls.

“Have a look at this,” Martinez said with a grin. “I found it.”

Chase turned the corner after him and saw he was looking at an onboard map, partially ripped.

Chase couldn’t make out the name from the shredded poster. “S S NOM... Do you think it says Normandy?” asked Chase.

“Could be,” agreed Martinez.

“Nomadic,” said Dryden. “It was a luxury liner. Disappeared about a hundred or a hundred and fifty years after the Trafalgar.”

“You reckon?” asked Martinez.

Dryden shrugged. “Just a guess,” he said.

“Very specific guess,” said Chase. “Never mind, let’s report it in.” Chase pulled out the com unit from the attachment on his suit. “Mary Rose, it’s Chase,” he said.

“Go ahead.” Harding’s voice came back, monotone and static through the bad weather.

“It’s not the Trafalgar,” said Chase. “Looks to be some kind of liner dating back a hundred years or so. Partial identification Sierra Sierra November Oscar Mike. Dryden wonders if it could be Luxury Liner SS Nomadic,” he said.

The com unit buzzed for a moment before Harding’s voice came back in. “We do have a missing ship in our records matching that name and description. If it can be confirmed, then that would be quite the find, gentlemen.” It was as close to praise as Chase assumed Harding got.

“Should we investigate further or return to the ship?” Chase asked.

“We don’t have a contract for any luxury liners. It’s an engine I’m after,” replied Harding.

Chase took that as a negative and signed off.

“All right, back we go,” he said, the others turning back towards the galley. The floor shook. He had just enough time to push Dryden out of the galley back into the corridor before the ship quake took hold.

He could hear crashing. Anything not bolted down was being thrown down upon the deck.

“Well, then,” he said, “let’s lie low.” The other two didn’t disagree. Chase pulled out his sensor unit and searched for any other exit points. They were at least another deck above ground level, and he didn’t fancy the idea of abseiling from a vessel with this going on.

As he was working out how long it would take to make the other exit points, the sensor unit was now showing him, shaking subsided. He paused for a moment to make quite sure that it was done before they continued through the galley.

Chase stepped carefully; there were plenty of sharp knives around. He didn’t fancy any of the debris tearing his suit; that would make getting back to the ship much more urgent. His com unit started beeping, and he clicked it on.

“Chase,” he said.

“Mr Chase, I need you back on the ship at the best possible speed.”