In the Black Spaces

005: Myrr Idol

The Merlin pulled up alongside them two hours later.

The vessel was a cataphract warship like the Cobra, but an older model with ageing plates of armour darkened with smoke and heat. It had a few dozen meters shaved off its length, a smaller engine and not quite as many guns crammed into its lower decks, but it could still pack a hefty punch if the occasion called for it.

Wraia was fairly sure it would call for it. She sat at the head of the oval table in the Cobra's primary tactical suite, Gallagher and Ratcliffe to her right, Hooper and Whitlock to her left. A square screen sat in the centre of the table, ready to run the camera images of the Manticore's ravaged interior for their visitors.

So far Gueller hadn't responded to briefing packet they'd sent across in advance of this meeting. Evidently the other commander wanted to wait until he could look her in the eye to air his opinions. She didn't know the man personally, but his service record was an unremarkable beige of patrol assignments and policing actions.

Nonetheless, the record also stated in inarguable black and white that he had seniority, having received his commission a year before her. Technically he was in command, if he had the stomach for it. Part of her wanted that, and another part of her loathed to give over control of the operation to someone who didn't seem any better qualified than her to tackle it.

The door of the tactical suite hissed open and she looked up to see Deck Officer Mayeda poke his head into the room.

"Reporting as ordered, ma'am," Mayeda said with a salute. "I've got Commander Gueller and his command crew with me."

"Show them in, Mr. Mayeda," she confirmed with a nod.

"Ma'am."

He disappeared back through the hatchway for a moment, then reappeared leading the command crew of the SNV Merlin into the room.

Lt. Commander Gueller was scarily tall but spindly with it, his Sol-Navy uniform struggling to fit his gangly frame. His narrow face formed a scowl as he crossed the threshold, hands clasped behind his back, and followed by his senior officers. His skin was ghost-pale, cheeks hollow – clean shaven and putting Wraia uncomfortably in the mind of a skeleton.

He folded himself down into the chair opposed her, bringing both hands together in front of him in a manner than somehow reminded her of a preying mantis. As the rest of his command crew filed in he fixed her with an expectant stare. Reports were one thing, but by now Gueller had had a chance to see the wreck of the Manticore for himself. The man undoubtedly had a lot of questions, and she was the only one who could even attempt to answer them.

"Take a seat, Mr. Mayeda," Wraia said once Gueller's crew had made themselves comfortable. Then she nodded to two deck guards. "That will be all."

The pair saluted, and eagerly retreaded back into the passages of the Cobra, leaving those of higher rank and pay to grapple with the impossibilities that they'd discovered out here. Mayeda wasn't so lucky, and he was a picture of discomfort as he sat down. Right now Wraia didn't much care for his discomfort – he was the senior deck officer and he'd been aboard the Manticore. She needed his voice.

"Commander," she began with a cordial nod to Gueller. "I'm sorry we haven't met under better circumstances."

"Quite," he replied, in a raspy, growling voice. His long fingers twitched as he continued. "I've read your report on the Manticore. This is ... a strange situation. I understand you were able to pull the physical drives from the Manticore's bridge?"

"That's correct."

"I would very much like to see their contents."

"It's being worked on," she told him. "I have a team of technicians assigned, but the drives were badly damaged by whatever wrecked the ship. It will be several hours before we will know if there's any intact information on them."