Unfortunately, that didn’t help them pick the ship they wanted out of the hundreds of small craft filling the asteroid’s berths. “We need you to show us where we can find the ship that entered your facility at, ah, thirty-one eighty local time,” Reed told Kuldip. “A type of vessel called a Grennex G-Seven.”
“Ah, yes, the Grennex section.” Kuldip worked his console. “I am sending the coordinates to your helm now.”
Tallarico turned to look over her shoulder at the captain, her blond ponytail swinging. “Got it, sir.”
“Proceed.”
Reed noticed that Veurk was frowning. “Something wrong?” he asked her.
“Well, Captain . . . Grennex ships are a common make in the Colonies and beyond, and the G-Seven was a popular model for a number of years. I’m concerned that . . . oh. Well, see for yourself.”
By now they had reached the coordinates, and the viewscreen revealed what Veurk had feared. The block of twenty-four berths before them currently contained some nineteen ships of various different configurations—but more than half of them were identical. Reed turned to Veurk. “Are those . . .”
The Coridanite Rigelian nodded. “G-Sevens.”
Reed faced Kuldip’s inset image on the viewer. “Mister Kuldip, you’re going to have to give us a little more help than that.”
“I do apologize, Captain. But I’m afraid our record-keeping system can be rather erratic. Unless you can give me the registration number of the ship in question . . .”
“The ship didn’t broadcast its registry.”
“Then I’m afraid I can’t help you. I suggest you try contacting the owners or previous renters of the various ships.”
“If we knew how to find them—” Reed broke off. It was obvious enough that Kuldip was on the take; trying to reason with him was a wasted effort. “Never mind. We’ll manage it ourselves. Reed out.” He closed the channel, then turned to his right, addressing Valeria Williams at tactical. “Val, scan the ships. Look for any distinguishing features.”
“Aye, sir.” The auburn-haired lieutenant spent some moments coordinating with Yasmin Achrati, the ensign filling in at sciences while Sangupta was away on Rigel III with Commander Mayweather. Finally, Williams shook her head. “I should’ve known, sir. None of the ships shows any significant differences from the others in its displacement, engine specifications, signs of recent usage, anything. In fact, I’d say they’re suspiciously identical.”
“We do have the authority to search them all,” Veurk said. “The right ship won’t elude us forever.”
“But it only has to elude us long enough,” Reed told her. “We need a way to identify that ship as soon as possible.”
At the engineering station, just forward of tactical, Tobin Dax raised a hand, index finger extended. “Ah, Captain, I think I might have an idea about that. If I could ask Mister Kuldip a question?”
Reed nodded to Crewman Konicek at communications, who reopened the channel. “We have a question, Mister Kuldip. Go ahead, Doctor Dax.”
“Uh, Mister Kuldip, hello. My name is—”
“Just ask the question, Doctor.”
“Sorry, sir. Um, could you tell me just what type of hull coating the G-Sevens use? Is it an ablative ceramic, or a carbon-fiber composite, or—”
“Carbon-reinforced thermopolymer,” Kuldip replied, “sandwiching layers of silica-based aerogel foam.”
“Ah, very good, very good,” Dax said.
“How does that help us?” asked Reed.
“Well, normally it wouldn’t,” the Trill chief engineer told him. “But Rigel V is nearly twice as close to the primary star as we are here, so the UV intensity would be nearly four times as great. As you may know, UV exposure can cause degradation in the matrix of a carbon composite.”
Williams shook her head. “Good thought, Tobin, but with this kind of material, the degradation is far too gradual, and it happens over multiple repeated exposures. The amount of time this ship would’ve spent around Five wouldn’t be enough to make any measurable difference in its skin integrity.”
“Ah,” Tobin said, “but that’s under UV exposure alone. It’s a little-known fact that if that type of composite is simultaneously subjected to a particle beam in a state of subspace phase transition, it can leave a characteristic degradation signature in the composite matrix.”
The armory officer frowned. “A transporter beam, you mean.”
“That is what I mean.”
“Doctor, I’ve never heard of anything like that.”