A Taste Of Despair (The Humal Sequence) by Robert Taylor

to check seals. The suits were fully spaceworthy, being completely sealable and capable of being pressurized. But the built-in air supply was based around re-breather technology and had a very limited supply. For emergency use, and trolling around the station as a medic, they were fine however. More importantly for them, the visor was adjustably opaque. It sported a photo-chromatic layer that responded to electrical impulses to darken the face-plate. Electrical impulses that the user could select.
    With the visors suitably darkened they returned to the elevator.
    “What now?” She asked.
    “Now,” Hamilton said. “We see if we can catch the others.”

 
     
     
     
    CHAPTER SIX
     
    In the medical section, Klane and the others went through the individual patient rooms looking for the rest of Rames’ crew and Lewis. There was no sign of any of them, however.
    “What have they done with my people?” Rames growled.
    “Possibly they let slip something they shouldn’t have.” Klane stated. “In which case they probably got taken away for further ‘questioning’.”
    Rames shook his head. “They didn’t know anything, though. That’s the thing. Very few of them even knew I had Hamilton on board.”
    Klane shrugged. “Perhaps they were offered some sort of deal. The interview panel knew we were lying, after all. They couldn’t prove it, though.”
    “I’d like to believe my own crew wouldn’t sell me out!”
    “I’d like to believe this is all a horrible nightmare I’m soon going to wake up from.” Jones added softly.
    “Either way, they’re not here.” Klane stated. “Let’s move on.”
    The medical section was not only devoid of missing crewmen, it was fairly empty of staff and personnel, too. Those few they did encounter variously tried to question them imperiously, or run away. The end result was the same. They all ended up locked in one of the patient cells. Even Carl’s reception area clerk had ended up in one of them.
    “Looks like we’ve been lucky.” Grimes observed. “Not many staff about.”
    “There are no patients for them anymore.” Klane pointed out. “No reason for them to be here.”
    “True.” He admitted.
    The medical section was fairly expansive, considering it was only designed for emergency quarantine procedures. Klane found herself wondering how big the station’s main medical center was.
    The main patient intake lock had a large staging area adjacent to it. The lock itself was massive, designed to accommodate a large influx of people at the same time. Beyond the observation ports to one side, they could see the bulk of the Ulysses hovering.
    “Looks like your flyboy Marine managed to stop the ship.” Puckett muttered.
    Veltin craned his head around to look sidewise out of the port. “They’ve extended a flexible connector to the lock. I can even see people moving inside it!”
    “Standard boarding procedure.” Rames told them. “Extend the umbilical as a tunnel. No direct physical connection between the vessels.”
    As if on cue, the activity light above the big lock door began to flash.
    “Why not dock direct?” Carl asked.
    “Direct connection opens the Ulysses up to cyber-attacks through the ship-to-ship links.” Rames explained. “All vessels automatically perform a kind of handshaking procedure once a physical dock is established. It would leave us too open to viruses and malware and the like.”
    Jones frowned. “So the Port authorities could seize control of the ship?”
    Rames nodded. “Potentially. Ulysses is hardened against such attacks. Most Imperial ships are. But until you know the ship you’re docking with is a friendly, it’s a given that you don’t take chances.”
    “So you’re saying your Marines do actually have some intelligence, then.” Veltin grinned.
    Rames frowned. “I wouldn’t say that to any of them, if I were you.” He advised.
    Veltin grinned even more. “Don’t worry, I wasn’t planning on signing my own