Starflight (Starflight, #1)(81)
All eyes landed on Doran for his answer. He felt Solara squeeze his hand under the table, and when she peered up at him with that dimpled grin, he was forced to admit to himself that he would have done the same thing in Cassia’s and Kane’s position. That didn’t mean he trusted them, and it didn’t mean he was ready to forgive. But he gave a begrudging nod along with his answer.
“That’s what I thought,” Kane said, and returned his attention to his bowl. “You’re no different from us.”
Much as Doran had expected, Planet X was a frozen wasteland.
Its distant sun, visible as a pinprick of warmth on the horizon, cast a slanted glow over the landscape that seemed to create more shadow than light. The contrast allowed him to see that its hills were made from belts of ice stacked into tiny steps. Everywhere else, the terrain was relatively flat, dented with shallow pockmarks that reminded him of a scarred face. If any useful or dangerous ore existed down there, he’d need an industrial drill to find it.
What did his father expect him to do at these coordinates?
As Doran stood in the pilothouse and scanned the desolate panorama, it became clear there were no signs of life down there—plant or animal. And yet the Banshee’s sensors detected enough electrical current to power a town. Something was lying to him, either the equipment or his eyes.
“When was the last time you had your sensors checked?” he asked the captain.
“There’s nothing wrong with my equipment,” Rossi said, stroking his beard and staring out the windshield with a frown. “If we’re picking up a charge, there’s machinery running.”
“Maybe it’s cloaked,” Doran said. “Or buried underground.”
They ran a scan for metals and detected a disk embedded in the ice near the heart of the power source. From the computer’s preliminary sketch, it appeared to be an air-lock hatch, which supported his theory that something was operating beneath the planet’s surface.
“Whatever’s down there must be huge,” the captain mused. “It’s using a ton of juice.”
“Try to land by the hatch,” Doran said. “I’m going to suit up and see if I can get inside.”
“Take Renny and Kane with you,” the captain told him. “Armed, just in case.”
Doran hesitated. He didn’t want Kane anywhere near him. “I can manage without—”
“Renny and Kane,” the captain repeated. “That’s not up for debate.”
Doran knew better than to argue.
He made his way to the cargo level, and by the time the Banshee alighted on the planet’s surface, the three of them were securing oxygen helmets to their pressurized suits.
To test out the suit’s com-link, Doran glanced at Renny and warned, “I don’t know what’s down there, but I think Infinium might be a weapon. And if I’m right, whoever’s building it won’t appreciate a visit.”
“Not a problem,” Renny said. “We’ve got your back.”
Kane froze for a second while pulling on his gloves. His lips tightened beneath the fiberglass helmet, but he nodded in agreement. Renny handed them each a pistol, and after strapping the weapons to their hips, they exited the ship.
The insulated suits didn’t do much to keep out the chill, and even with weights at their ankles, their boots slipped and skidded over the icy ground as they fought their way toward the hatch. A fierce wind howled across the stark landscape, fighting their every move and creating a creepy whistle when mixed with the steady release of oxygen inside Doran’s helmet. By the time they reached the hatch, his skin was covered in goose bumps, more from the eerie surroundings than the temperature.
They couldn’t find an automatic switch, so Doran grabbed the manual lever and tugged it aside while Kane hauled open the thick metal door. One by one, they descended the ladder leading to the air-lock chamber. Doran was about to close the hatch when a new helmet appeared out of nowhere, and he flinched, nearly losing his grip on the steel rung.
It was Solara.
“There’s no way I’m missing this,” she said through the com-link.
Doran exhaled in relief. She’d promised to stay behind until they knew it was safe, but secretly he was glad to have her here. “Fine, but hurry. That wind is killing me.”
After she descended the ladder and closed the hatch, they flipped on the oxygen switch and listened to the low hum of heated air filling the chamber. A green light flashed to indicate optimal pressure and oxygen saturation, and a door in the chamber wall clicked ajar. Doran removed his helmet and hooked it to the utility belt on his hip, then pulled open the door and peeked through to the other side.
“It looks like a bunker,” he said, taking in the concrete walls and floors of the dimly lit hallway. It led to a corner about ten yards ahead, then continued to the right. He noticed the slightly stale scent of recycled air, but nothing out of the ordinary. No reek of decay or musty odor of neglect. But despite that, his instincts told him this place was no oasis.
“I don’t see anyone.” He cocked one ear and added, “Or hear anything.”
A computerized voice called out from the chamber ceiling, making everyone jump in shock. “Interior air-lock port closing in ten seconds,” it said, and began counting backward.
Doran shared a nervous glance with the others. Because it seemed they had no choice but to continue or turn back, they made their way inside the corridor and removed their helmets as the air-lock door sealed behind them. In tentative steps, Doran led the way into the bunker. As soon as he rounded the corner, motion sensors activated a strip of overhead lights, causing him to shield his eyes from the brightness.