There was faint motion in the lock. Sound sensors detected the whistle of escaping gas. Lock pressurization was automatic. Suit instrumentation immediately analyzed the gas. It was a pleasant surprise to discover that the atmosphere that had been injected into the lock was technically breathable.

“Oxygen breathers like us,” murmured the first observer as she settled to the floor. “Artificial gravity perhaps a tiny bit stronger than ours.”

“Also like the AAnn,” Broh pointed out.

“Not exactly like us.” The second observer was studying his suit instruments. “Check your climatology readings.”

The atmosphere that now filled the lock was breathable, but desperately cold and almost unbelievably dry. Since the air had been provided promptly there was no reason to assume that either factor was the result of a malfunction in the ship’s systems, though such a possibility could not be ruled out.

Broh stared disbelievingly at his humidity indicator, which registered close to zero. As the third observer pointed out, that was disconcertingly like the climate the AAnn were known to prefer.

“That much is true,” the second observer admitted. “The lack of reasonable moisture in the air here is indeed similar to suspected AAnn home planetery conditions. However, the temperature in this lock is low enough to kill them even faster than it would doom us.”

“Maybe,” the first suggested, “this ship’s automatic monitors are functioning properly save for a breakdown in the heating elements.”

“That’s possible,” Broh agreed, breaking into the learned discussion lest it grow too esoteric, “but as near as I can tell everything else seems to be functioning properly. I fear we must assume that holds true for the temperature controls the same as everything else.”

“A frozen race,” the Outside officer muttered.

“Of course,” the first observer continued after making a polite gesture in recognition of the officer’s comment coupled with mild condescension toward one of inferior mental powers, “allies of the AAnn would not necessarily have to enjoy the same climate as the AAnn, any more than their ships would have to be based on similar designs.”

“True enough.” The third looked thoughtful. “I’ve been fortunate enough to have had the chance to study the interior of a captured AAnn vessel. I can say that insofar as airlocks are concerned, the differences between that ship and this one are considerable. I reserve final judgment until we have seen more of this one, of course.”

There was a crackling in Broh’s headset, an urgent flurry of inquisitive clicks and whistles.

“Captain, sir?” said a slightly distorted voice.

“Speaking.” Broh’s reply was sharper than he intended.

“It’s nothing specific, sir.” Broh recognized the voice of the Outsider manning the shuttle. “But we hadn’t heard from you since instruments showed that you’d boarded the alien and closed the lock door behind you.”

“My error,” Broh replied. “We should have checked back with you sooner. The builders of this ship remain unknown and,” he glanced for confirmation at the science council, “at least so far there is nothing to indicate they are AAnn or AAnn-allied. You may relay this very tentative and preliminary information back to the Zinramm.”