readings. Now he was invisible. To Jed, it would appear as though he’d gone back out through the airlock. He could, he supposed, hide aboard the ship thus until it departed.
But why play aces he might need later when he could get by on lower suits?
When he’d hidden in the uppermost level beneath the arsenal, he remembered the entrance had been sealed off, and it was to this door that he now made his way. The door made a tight seal against the frame, but from the way the dust had settled, Wolff could divine that the corridor had recently been accessed. He shrugged off his jacket and draped it over a crate of esculent canisters. He scrutinised the locking mechanism and the seal in the light of his torch. This lock was electronic, but it was on a separate circuit to Shamrock ’s mainframe. The Shamrock itself had no direct influence over whether this door was opened or closed.
Wolff picked up his laser penknife, and twisted its neck to select the setting. He etched out the perimeter of the lock’s polymer cover with the narrow emerald beam and, sliding his fingernails into the cut, prised the cover away. Beneath it, the matte, flat surface had perhaps an inch square in the center of minute geometric circuitry. Round beads of silver metal marked the contacts with the cover panel, and tiny coloured squares embedded in the polymer showed the positions of resistors and diodes.
Wolff traced the routes of the circuitry tracks and saw at once that the stimulation of a particular wire and the cessation of current through two others would release the locking mechanism.
He snapped a piece from a bundle of hair-fine ductile alloy wire. A touch of the ends against a heated metal claw rendered them soft, and once they were pressed to the relevant contacts, a squirt from a coolant aerosol fixed the temporary short circuit in place. Taking his laser penknife, he burned away through the tracks of the other two connections. As soon as the last one was severed, a green light flashed up on the side of the locking mechanism, and the door retracted into the wall.
The corridor was completely unlit and the air smelled stale, like a long-sealed crypt. Wolff shone his torch over the featureless black metal of the walls as he gathered his tools. He shuddered. The similarity to a crypt didn’t end there. The rectangular tunnel led down into an impenetrable darkness. He had to stoop to enter it, and moved forward, feeling along the wall as the tunnel sloped downward. He emerged into a small annexe. Piles of machinery leant against the walls and two doors led away.
A strange glow illuminated the walls. Wolff switched off his torch and pocketed it. The light emanated from a hole in the floor, casting a dynamic incandescence on the dark metal of the ceiling above. It had a glimmering quality, like that cast by light shining through a large body of water.
Moving closer to the source of the light, he saw that the hole led to a lower level via a set of rungs. He lowered his legs into the gap and, bracing himself on the edges of the floor with his hands, tested his weight on a rung. Taking the uppermost rung in his hands, Wolff began his descent. The Archer’s narrow form would easily have fitted through such a gap, but Wolff was broad across the shoulders and had to let himself down at full arms’ length, scraping his back on the edge of the floor. He remembered this entrance, the same as on the Larkspur . No light had shone from its counterpart.
A watery aquamarine light met him as his head descended below the level of the floor, and a low bubbling melody reached his ears. Wolff nearly lost his grip on the ladder at the sight that greeted him when he looked over his shoulder.
The chamber was immense—it must have been an entire, complete level of the Shamrock in itself. Serried glass cases lined every wall, arranged in two levels up to the high ceiling. The light came from behind the tanks, distorted by the gas bubbles streaming through the
But why play aces he might need later when he could get by on lower suits?
When he’d hidden in the uppermost level beneath the arsenal, he remembered the entrance had been sealed off, and it was to this door that he now made his way. The door made a tight seal against the frame, but from the way the dust had settled, Wolff could divine that the corridor had recently been accessed. He shrugged off his jacket and draped it over a crate of esculent canisters. He scrutinised the locking mechanism and the seal in the light of his torch. This lock was electronic, but it was on a separate circuit to Shamrock ’s mainframe. The Shamrock itself had no direct influence over whether this door was opened or closed.
Wolff picked up his laser penknife, and twisted its neck to select the setting. He etched out the perimeter of the lock’s polymer cover with the narrow emerald beam and, sliding his fingernails into the cut, prised the cover away. Beneath it, the matte, flat surface had perhaps an inch square in the center of minute geometric circuitry. Round beads of silver metal marked the contacts with the cover panel, and tiny coloured squares embedded in the polymer showed the positions of resistors and diodes.
Wolff traced the routes of the circuitry tracks and saw at once that the stimulation of a particular wire and the cessation of current through two others would release the locking mechanism.
He snapped a piece from a bundle of hair-fine ductile alloy wire. A touch of the ends against a heated metal claw rendered them soft, and once they were pressed to the relevant contacts, a squirt from a coolant aerosol fixed the temporary short circuit in place. Taking his laser penknife, he burned away through the tracks of the other two connections. As soon as the last one was severed, a green light flashed up on the side of the locking mechanism, and the door retracted into the wall.
The corridor was completely unlit and the air smelled stale, like a long-sealed crypt. Wolff shone his torch over the featureless black metal of the walls as he gathered his tools. He shuddered. The similarity to a crypt didn’t end there. The rectangular tunnel led down into an impenetrable darkness. He had to stoop to enter it, and moved forward, feeling along the wall as the tunnel sloped downward. He emerged into a small annexe. Piles of machinery leant against the walls and two doors led away.
A strange glow illuminated the walls. Wolff switched off his torch and pocketed it. The light emanated from a hole in the floor, casting a dynamic incandescence on the dark metal of the ceiling above. It had a glimmering quality, like that cast by light shining through a large body of water.
Moving closer to the source of the light, he saw that the hole led to a lower level via a set of rungs. He lowered his legs into the gap and, bracing himself on the edges of the floor with his hands, tested his weight on a rung. Taking the uppermost rung in his hands, Wolff began his descent. The Archer’s narrow form would easily have fitted through such a gap, but Wolff was broad across the shoulders and had to let himself down at full arms’ length, scraping his back on the edge of the floor. He remembered this entrance, the same as on the Larkspur . No light had shone from its counterpart.
A watery aquamarine light met him as his head descended below the level of the floor, and a low bubbling melody reached his ears. Wolff nearly lost his grip on the ladder at the sight that greeted him when he looked over his shoulder.
The chamber was immense—it must have been an entire, complete level of the Shamrock in itself. Serried glass cases lined every wall, arranged in two levels up to the high ceiling. The light came from behind the tanks, distorted by the gas bubbles streaming through the
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