Rake frowned and ran a hand down her face. She didn’t seem quite as ready to joke about Griffith’s condition. The big man’s grin faded, and he wrapped an arm around her shoulder.
Mesa cleared her throat. “That, I do recognize,” she said, her voice quavering slightly. “It is a trecullis.”
“A … what?” Rake asked.
“A type of access door. Absolutely antiquated, by all standards.”
“Antiquated?” Jackin asked. “How so?”
“In theory, a trecullis will scan an incoming ship for relevant technologies to determine if it is friendly,” Mesa explained. “Understaffed or decommissioned posts utilized them to allow access without requiring each vessel to obtain specific clearance.”
“Why not just use a code?” Cavalon asked.
“Most did require a specific data input as well, with the technology scan as a secondary measure to ensure that the access code had not been stolen. Regardless, the Cathians discovered a way to deceive the system by lining their hulls with stolen Viator technology, and they eventually decommissioned the method.”
Cavalon raised his eyebrows. They were really delving into ancient history if Mesa was talking about Cathians. They’d been the first sentient species—that they knew about, anyway—to be ushered out of existence by the Viators, over three thousand years ago, well before first contact with humans.
“There’s no way it’s going to scan us and think we’re friendlies, right?” Emery said.
“I cannot be certain…” Mesa said. “However, this technology was developed and decommissioned well before Viators encountered mankind. They would not have had countermeasures in place to specifically flag human vessels. Besides, much of our modern technology derives from their own, when not simply a direct copy. The warp drive, the control system and computers, the scanners and sensor arrays, gravity control…” She swept a hand out toward Rake and Griffith. “Both of your Titan Imprints…” She turned and looked at Cavalon. “Your original Imprints.” She held up the gold pyramid. “The curanulta. Most of our weapons. It is very possible, if it is in fact functioning, that it would judge us as Viator.”
That assessment sent bile up Cavalon’s throat. Another reminder of everything they owed to the creatures that’d tried so very hard, twice, to exterminate them—and maybe were about to take a third shot at it.
“Everyone okay with this?” Rake asked.
It took Cavalon a moment to realize she actually expected an answer—had called for a vote. Though to Cavalon, it sounded more or less like: “Is it cool with everyone that we might die in a few seconds?”
“Aye,” Griffith answered immediately.
Jackin gave a reluctant nod. “If you say so, boss.”
“Certainly, Excubitor,” Mesa agreed.
Cavalon scratched his neck, unsure if he and Emery were to be included in this decision.
Rake answered his question, looking over at them expectantly. “Oculi?”
“Shit, yeah,” Emery said, chomping a few loud smacks on her gum. She grinned at Cavalon with nervous excitement. This was likely the coolest thing that’d ever happened to her in all nineteen years of her life. Though Cavalon had to admit, it was the coolest thing that’d happened to him in all twenty-seven of his. By a long shot. It might be scary, and they might die, but the possibilities of what might be on this strange, enormous “data beacon” were too fascinating to pass up.
Cavalon gave Rake a nervous smile. “Absolutely, sir.”
“Let’s move forward, Jack,” Rake said. “See what happens.”
Jackin hunched over the controls and mumbled to himself. “See what happens. I’m lovin’ this strategy.” Rake gave him a weak slap on the shoulder and Jackin smiled up at her. “I’m just saying, so much for our ‘master tactician.’”