hesitated, glancing at his nephew. He raised a dark hand, gesturing Chris closer.
82
He put his mouth close to Chris’s ear and whispered, ‘I don’t know.’
The cutlery started rattling again.
Later, Chris took the tray back to the galley. Iaomnet and Zatopek stopped talking the instant they saw him, and glared at the table. ‘Good night,’ he said, quickly stacking the tray in the cleaner.
‘See you in the morning,’ said Iaomnet as he retreated.
Chris really wanted to stretch his legs, but the Hopper didn’t even have a gym. He could run in circles around the cargo bay, but it just seemed pointless. He went back down the corridor to the bridge.
The Doctor was sitting in one of the chairs, his face lit in slow-moving patterns by the telltales. The view through the front window was blackness marked with rainbow streaks. Chris tried to ignore it – hyperspace did strange things to your eyes as they tried to focus, and it always made his head ache. The Doctor was watching it as though it was a particularly interesting television programme.
‘I think there’s a lover’s tiff going on in the galley,’ murmured Chris, turning one of the chairs backward and sitting in it. He leant over the back of the seat. ‘Iaomnet and Zatopek.’
‘Or a professional disagreement, perhaps?’ The Doctor raised an eyebrow. ‘The geologists appear to have neglected to fill their assistant in on all the details of the mission.’
‘I was right, wasn’t I? Those images were military. Probably classified.’
‘Of course. Most likely, they’re from Mei Feng’s original expedition.’
‘I can’t believe the military would miss the significance of that line down the mountain.’
‘Maybe they didn’t bother to examine it,’ said the Doctor.
‘Then why take the picture in the first place?’ Chris said.
‘Besides, after what happened to the first expedition, you think they’d be looking for an explanation.’
83
‘Good point.’ The Doctor drummed his fingers on his mouth, thinking. ‘I wonder if someone pulled a few strings, and this is the first expedition to get permission…’
Chris insisted, ‘Even if it was low-level security info, there’s no way that a couple of university geologists could have gotten their hands on it. Who are these people?’
‘Good question,’ said the Doctor. ‘Though at this point I think we’d be a little hypocritical to complain that they weren’t who they say they are.’
Chris spent the next morning helping Zatopek work on the sensor array. The young academic monitored the links from a palmtop while Chris and the Ogrons unpacked huge antennae and scanner dishes from their plastic crates.
After lunch, Chris crawled out through the airlock and spent an hour welding things together on the hull. Zatopek watched through Chris’s suit camera, giving him terse instructions.
Back inside, he’d showered off the sweat, his elbows knocking against the walls of the tiny cubicle in his cabin. Feeling pleasantly scrubbed, he wandered up to the bridge. The smart systems were quite capable of handling the entire trip from one Clytemnestran moon to the other, assuming it was all routine; they needed a human pilot only to handle the last stages of the journey, where there’d be no automatic beacons to guide the ship in.
But it didn’t hurt to run your eyes over the controls every so often. Chris had heard of a ship on the Earth–Titan run which had got so nervous about one of its retros that it changed course for the nearest repair station, and the crew didn’t even realize until they were halfway to Mars.
The door behind him slid open and Iaomnet came on to the bridge. Maybe she’d heard the same story. ‘What is that noise?’
she asked, and sat down in the co-pilot’s position.
‘The Communards,’ said Chris.
‘Who are they when they’re not strangling cats?’
Chris passed her the cassette case. She turned it over in her hands. He noticed her frown when she
82
He put his mouth close to Chris’s ear and whispered, ‘I don’t know.’
The cutlery started rattling again.
Later, Chris took the tray back to the galley. Iaomnet and Zatopek stopped talking the instant they saw him, and glared at the table. ‘Good night,’ he said, quickly stacking the tray in the cleaner.
‘See you in the morning,’ said Iaomnet as he retreated.
Chris really wanted to stretch his legs, but the Hopper didn’t even have a gym. He could run in circles around the cargo bay, but it just seemed pointless. He went back down the corridor to the bridge.
The Doctor was sitting in one of the chairs, his face lit in slow-moving patterns by the telltales. The view through the front window was blackness marked with rainbow streaks. Chris tried to ignore it – hyperspace did strange things to your eyes as they tried to focus, and it always made his head ache. The Doctor was watching it as though it was a particularly interesting television programme.
‘I think there’s a lover’s tiff going on in the galley,’ murmured Chris, turning one of the chairs backward and sitting in it. He leant over the back of the seat. ‘Iaomnet and Zatopek.’
‘Or a professional disagreement, perhaps?’ The Doctor raised an eyebrow. ‘The geologists appear to have neglected to fill their assistant in on all the details of the mission.’
‘I was right, wasn’t I? Those images were military. Probably classified.’
‘Of course. Most likely, they’re from Mei Feng’s original expedition.’
‘I can’t believe the military would miss the significance of that line down the mountain.’
‘Maybe they didn’t bother to examine it,’ said the Doctor.
‘Then why take the picture in the first place?’ Chris said.
‘Besides, after what happened to the first expedition, you think they’d be looking for an explanation.’
83
‘Good point.’ The Doctor drummed his fingers on his mouth, thinking. ‘I wonder if someone pulled a few strings, and this is the first expedition to get permission…’
Chris insisted, ‘Even if it was low-level security info, there’s no way that a couple of university geologists could have gotten their hands on it. Who are these people?’
‘Good question,’ said the Doctor. ‘Though at this point I think we’d be a little hypocritical to complain that they weren’t who they say they are.’
Chris spent the next morning helping Zatopek work on the sensor array. The young academic monitored the links from a palmtop while Chris and the Ogrons unpacked huge antennae and scanner dishes from their plastic crates.
After lunch, Chris crawled out through the airlock and spent an hour welding things together on the hull. Zatopek watched through Chris’s suit camera, giving him terse instructions.
Back inside, he’d showered off the sweat, his elbows knocking against the walls of the tiny cubicle in his cabin. Feeling pleasantly scrubbed, he wandered up to the bridge. The smart systems were quite capable of handling the entire trip from one Clytemnestran moon to the other, assuming it was all routine; they needed a human pilot only to handle the last stages of the journey, where there’d be no automatic beacons to guide the ship in.
But it didn’t hurt to run your eyes over the controls every so often. Chris had heard of a ship on the Earth–Titan run which had got so nervous about one of its retros that it changed course for the nearest repair station, and the crew didn’t even realize until they were halfway to Mars.
The door behind him slid open and Iaomnet came on to the bridge. Maybe she’d heard the same story. ‘What is that noise?’
she asked, and sat down in the co-pilot’s position.
‘The Communards,’ said Chris.
‘Who are they when they’re not strangling cats?’
Chris passed her the cassette case. She turned it over in her hands. He noticed her frown when she
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