Salvage Rights on the Down Low

Coarse sand, jumping as it slid down the smooth metal ramp.  The sun a hair's breadth from subsuming itself beneath the earth, eaten before being vomited up on the far side of the plains.  Heat traveled between it all, more real than the air you breathe and the ground you stand upon.  That's the picture of the ship as it was when I saw it.  The thing was half buried, and only half because of the desert wind scraping off a thin layer that had disguised it as a sand dune the night before.  

Lucky of me to have camped right next to it you might think, but the coordinates the locals gave me were good.  Most of the time they lead you right to the site.  Only when they have somethin' to hide does it get tricky.  Hard to hide a giant metal hulk like this one for too long though, and that might be what made the chief give us the directions right away instead of putzing around for a tribal meeting.  Might have been a monarchy for all I know, though.  

Was surprised the sand wasn't turned to glass where I stood there though, long shadow stickin' out beside me to parallel the beached whale of a thing where it lay.  If I'd just walked up and touched the hull my hand woulda been crisped, burnt down to the bone with the way that it reflected light off at just the right angle and soaked up the rest for its own personal use, black skin fueling the little whirring and clicking that went on down deep inside.  Couldn't hear it from there 'course, much too thick of a hull for that, but this wasn't my first salvage, that's for sure.  

Gettin' in was almost always the hard part.  Only time I got in clean with no fuss there were bandits in there 'fore me, seein' as how they didn't need no particular set of skills to blast open the doors and head for the larder.  Once you get in, you just gotta climb and crawl your way around to see how it looks, maybe poke a few things, and that takes time, not effort or cunning.  Gettin' a hole in this one without fillin' with sand, well, that was a mite bit tricky, since they only ever send me down with a hull knife and some sticky-gloves.  Can't give official reasons why a recon man needs more, really, 'least without the captain makin' it painfully obvious what he's been doin' down on junk planets like this.  Enough of a trail with the 'porter logs and don't need more recon things cleaning a trail for inspectors to get at.  

So I got to think of a way and get into the shell while maximizing the ability to keep the thing fresh as it came.  Some of them it don't matter if you let a bit more in, but this one was sure sealed up there.  Nothin' pokin' holes in it 'fore it landed, and the model that done clunked down there was sturdy 'nuff that no mere desert coulda more'n dented it.  Two options really to do for me then.  Either I gotta cut in through the side, cover it up real quick, and hope it holds when the thing gets scooped up again, or I try and tunnel down through the sand to get to the real door and manage to keep my hands un-seared as I pop the lock and get in.  Problem was that the sand was a bit too shifty and hot to really get around to diving in and huntin' around for a door, 'specially with no light to see by once I was under.  On the other hand, wasn't anything really strong out here that I'd seen.  Tent's the locals had made from some sorta leather only managed to bend around the sand, and they dug 'em out every morning from what I saw so they wouldn't break under the stress.  That an there wasn't any adhesive to attach it with anyway, gotta tie the stuff down and that was mighty leaky.  No bottoms on the tents, so those worked with it, just couldn't expect it to work as a real sorta doorway.  

That year had been a good year though, really great for us so I thought I might as well go for a risk.  Most ships have some sorta hull-breach sealant, leastways most good ships.  That gives it moderately alright odds that a beached one would too, 'specially a sealed one like this was.  Figured I'd cut myself in, try and get to a cabinet or somethin' and get back to seal 'er up before too much got in.  Don't like takin' chances though, so I wrote this one off my list 'fore I started so I wasn't too attached headin' in.  Anyway, I get some more substantial padding for the close up cutting, jam the knife in and get a little gap open real quick like.  Didn't even flatten myself with the new door as it fell,  some fellows don't remember that bit of caution.  I've ran into at least three door-squashed varmints in my day, all a while later than the date, and they just look a whole bit foolish is what it ends up as.  

Whole lot of black inside.  Even with the big black body should be pumpin' the place with juice it's all quiet as the grave it is and dark as the outside was, minus the reflections that is.  Floor's slanted down a ways so I put the sticky-gloves on for the climb in.  Creepiness don't get to ya after the first few, least not for me.  That's in a normal wreck though.  'F you climb in a normal onea these you just get a big can fulla dead guys.  This one had extra atmosphere.  Little trickle of sand comin' in the new door, wind doin' an eerie impression, and no lights at all.  My hair was at full attention tryin' ta look out for me as I crept around in there.  Took me a while to get to a storage area, found me the sealant but I wasn't sure I really wanted to seal myself in there by that point.