the rear and to port to stop her forward momentum and sent the machine towards the pitch black, ten-meter gap between the primary launch bay module and the base of the command tower. Both modules rode the tensegrity spine (like all the carrier's modules) and when the narrow chasm between them was in shade like it was now, it became a starless, black trench, almost 100 meters deep.
She flew them down into the murk where the only lights were theirs. "We're going to start at the bottom and work our way up. Turn on the scanner, Burr. Start panning around with the IF-13."
"You got it, Chief." It took a couple of seconds of fumbling up on top of the suit for Burr to turn on the survey scanner. He panned the beam across the surface of the command tower's sloping outer hull. It looked like a searchlight beam, but so dim and so very deep red that after you looked at it for a few seconds, you almost couldn't be sure it was still on until you turned it off and looked for the color change.
It wasn't one color or one beam at all, of course. The IF-13 used a whole bundle of frequencies to actively measure. Down in the dark trench, its amalgam light reflected off the belt-iron steel and gave the whole scene a hellish palette.
"Nothin'," Burr said after Horcheese had puffed them all across the lowest point in the trench. "I got nothin'. This outer hull is as smooth as my fresh shav-"
"Keep looking, Burr. The lady is watching."
Fifty meters up the command tower, in the middle of the narrow trench between modules, Burr stopped panning the beam around and kept it pointed at this one spot that was higher up than they were, where she couldn't see so well. "What is it, Burr? You holding out on me?"
"I don't know. Maybe this POS is busted."
"The IF-13 works fine. I checked it myself."
"It keeps changing its dang mind, Chief. Says this one patch of hull is okay, but then a second later, it says it's bulging, and then a second after that, it says it's got a concave deformation, and then it's normal again. Hold the beam still, and it reads normal."
She puffed the knuckledragger up ten meters and to the right, following Burr's beam until they hovered five meters in front of the command tower's outer hull and the spot that Burr still had lit up with the scanner's infernal light. "Normal," he said. Then he shifted the beam a few centimeters. "Now, it reads convex."
"I can't see anything," she said. "Can you localize it? Narrow the beam. Top side. Big knob on the left."
"I know where it is." The beam's edges didn't become any more distinct, but it shrank, making the trench even darker. After he played the narrow spotlight across the outer hull a few more times, he said, "Move us up a meter, and two meters to the right." She moved the 'dragger like he wanted, and he said, "That's it. That's it. I got you, you little..."
"Burr!"
"The messed up part is an area a little over a meter wide on all sides, Chief. And it's rectangular."
"This is gonna' ruin the scanner output. Hold on..." She turned the 'dragger's spotlight on the area and had to double check to make sure she was pointing it at the right spot. Horcheese saw nothing but unbroken, belt-iron steel.
Burr said, "Wait a second." Before she could ask why, he jumped off her shoulder and flew across the gap between the knuckledragger and the command tower.
"Where the hell are you going, Burr?"
"Relax, Chief. I got this." He drifted forward to the questioned spot on the hull, hands and feet out to stop himself. Horcheese just didn't understand what happened next. When he made contact with the hull, his hand went right through meters of armored outer hull, tearing it like it foil. "What the hell?"
He pulled his hand free where it had punched through, and a paper-thin layer of something that looked like hull but wasn't slowly reformed over the hole, healing the tear he'd made. Horcheese zoomed in with her helmet to see it as it was happening – the five or so flaps of material that had torn
She flew them down into the murk where the only lights were theirs. "We're going to start at the bottom and work our way up. Turn on the scanner, Burr. Start panning around with the IF-13."
"You got it, Chief." It took a couple of seconds of fumbling up on top of the suit for Burr to turn on the survey scanner. He panned the beam across the surface of the command tower's sloping outer hull. It looked like a searchlight beam, but so dim and so very deep red that after you looked at it for a few seconds, you almost couldn't be sure it was still on until you turned it off and looked for the color change.
It wasn't one color or one beam at all, of course. The IF-13 used a whole bundle of frequencies to actively measure. Down in the dark trench, its amalgam light reflected off the belt-iron steel and gave the whole scene a hellish palette.
"Nothin'," Burr said after Horcheese had puffed them all across the lowest point in the trench. "I got nothin'. This outer hull is as smooth as my fresh shav-"
"Keep looking, Burr. The lady is watching."
Fifty meters up the command tower, in the middle of the narrow trench between modules, Burr stopped panning the beam around and kept it pointed at this one spot that was higher up than they were, where she couldn't see so well. "What is it, Burr? You holding out on me?"
"I don't know. Maybe this POS is busted."
"The IF-13 works fine. I checked it myself."
"It keeps changing its dang mind, Chief. Says this one patch of hull is okay, but then a second later, it says it's bulging, and then a second after that, it says it's got a concave deformation, and then it's normal again. Hold the beam still, and it reads normal."
She puffed the knuckledragger up ten meters and to the right, following Burr's beam until they hovered five meters in front of the command tower's outer hull and the spot that Burr still had lit up with the scanner's infernal light. "Normal," he said. Then he shifted the beam a few centimeters. "Now, it reads convex."
"I can't see anything," she said. "Can you localize it? Narrow the beam. Top side. Big knob on the left."
"I know where it is." The beam's edges didn't become any more distinct, but it shrank, making the trench even darker. After he played the narrow spotlight across the outer hull a few more times, he said, "Move us up a meter, and two meters to the right." She moved the 'dragger like he wanted, and he said, "That's it. That's it. I got you, you little..."
"Burr!"
"The messed up part is an area a little over a meter wide on all sides, Chief. And it's rectangular."
"This is gonna' ruin the scanner output. Hold on..." She turned the 'dragger's spotlight on the area and had to double check to make sure she was pointing it at the right spot. Horcheese saw nothing but unbroken, belt-iron steel.
Burr said, "Wait a second." Before she could ask why, he jumped off her shoulder and flew across the gap between the knuckledragger and the command tower.
"Where the hell are you going, Burr?"
"Relax, Chief. I got this." He drifted forward to the questioned spot on the hull, hands and feet out to stop himself. Horcheese just didn't understand what happened next. When he made contact with the hull, his hand went right through meters of armored outer hull, tearing it like it foil. "What the hell?"
He pulled his hand free where it had punched through, and a paper-thin layer of something that looked like hull but wasn't slowly reformed over the hole, healing the tear he'd made. Horcheese zoomed in with her helmet to see it as it was happening – the five or so flaps of material that had torn
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