Obsolescence by Martha Wells

of what they had found and what they were afraid it meant. She knew she sounded shaken, but for once she didn’t care; somebody who knew what they were doing needed to get the hell here and take charge. With the transmission lag, it would take time for Base to respond. It was going to be a nerve-racking wait. She planted her hands on the console. Right, what’s next? Safety. She had to make sure they were secure up here before she command-sealed everything. She called Sully and asked them to take a group to search the module. “Okay, uh, what are we searching for?” Sully replied. That was a good question. Reluctant to admit what she thought was happening out loud, Jixy said slowly, “Do a rescue search.” There was a long silence. That was the search protocol for a missing person, someone who was hurt and stuck somewhere. It meant looking in every spot a person could conceivably conceal themselves in, intentionally or not. Then Sully took a sharp breath. “Will do, Jixy.” Jixy signed off. The command module wasn’t very big, so it shouldn’t take them long. Now she needed to figure out how this had happened. If something small had managed to slip in past the scan buoys and attach to the hull, it might show up on the maintenance stats. She pulled the log and checked it, once hurriedly then again slow and careful. No anomalies on the hull. “Of course not,” Jixy muttered aloud. Why should anything about this be easy? But the sensors were meant to look for leaks and damage. A small vehic