S. Swann - Prophets

Parvi pulled herself upright. “Is he okay?”

Over the PA system, Bill’s synthetic human voice spoke. “I find myself and my support systems unharmed.”

Mosasa turned around. His dragon tattoo seemed particularly sinister in the dim emergency lighting. “What the hell happened to my ship?”

“An unprecedented surge in the engines,” Bill said. “It is unique in my experience, but the energy surge was exponentially higher than expected for normal tach-drive interference.”

“Did you see what the fuck happened to that drive?” Wahid said.

“I salvaged the data. And I have detected something I believe is important.”

Mosasa floated up and grabbed the console next to the navigator’s station, bringing himself to a stop. “What?” he asked.

“I have connected to an external camera array. I will patch the images up to you. Can you see the data?”

“I’ve got it, Bill.” Wahid said.

As Wahid connected Bill’s data to the main holo display, Tsoravitch floated up next to Parvi.

The holo shimmered and stabilized into a view of a star field that, at first, looked unremarkable.

“Well, what the hell? Look at that.” Wahid broke out in a grin. “Look at that!”

In a moment, Parvi could tell why Wahid was grinning. Centered in the image, barely visible, was a pair of spacecraft. As she watched, they got noticeably larger.

Tsoravitch grabbed Parvi’s arm and shouted, “Yes! Yes!”

“Can we magnify this at all?” Mosasa asked.

“Sure,” Wahid said, and the image zoomed in on the two vessels. One was clearly a drop-ship with a smooth skin and the profile of a lifting body that could provide some sort of maneuvering capability in an atmosphere. The other had the spidery appearance of a vessel never meant to descend into a gravity well.

Parvi could also now see the green-and-white crescent markings of the Caliphate.

“Apparently,” Wahid said, “we didn’t beat them here.”

“Do we have any of our communications array up?” Parvi asked.

“Not yet,” Tsoravitch whispered. Parvi could tell that she was remembering the holo of the attack on Mosasa’s salvage yard.

Parvi hugged her shoulder. “Don’t worry. If they had evil intent, we’d know by now. We’re well within range of that ship’s missile battery.”

Mosasa shook his head. “It’s wrong . . .”

“What’s wrong?” Wahid asked. “You said yourself that they were going—”

Mosasa slammed his hand against the console. “They didn’t have the time .”

“Uh, should I point out the obvious,” Wahid said. “They are here. You know, maybe your crystal ball’s a little cloudy.”

Mosasa looked at Wahid, and all the expression drained from his face. “Perhaps it is over,” he whispered.

The flat way he said it chilled Parvi. It was as if he had given up.

“Are you still there, Bill?”

“Yes, Mr. Mosasa.”

“They will probably come through the cargo bay. Prepare to greet our visitors.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Descent

Know when to hang on, when to let go, and when not to get on the ride.

—The Cynic’s Book of Wisdom

On the road to hell, seat belts are optional.

—ROBERT Celine (1923-1996)

Date: 2526.6.3 (Standard) 750,000 km from Salmagundi-HD 101534

Hours after they took Nickolai away, Mallory prayed for the wisdom to know what his purpose in this debacle was. Even as they approached a planet and relative safety, Nickolai’s words still burned in his ears, his accusations about Mosasa and his fatalistic belief that the Eclipse was doomed.

Half of him wasn’t even surprised when the cabin started shaking.

The klaxons and emergency lights announced a hull breach and Parvi’s panicked voice burst though the PA, “Everyone to the nearest lifeboat/cabin now! We’ve had a critical overlo—”

A massive explosion threw Mallory out of his cot. When he pushed himself off the floor, he found himself floating upward. Something jerked, and the lights went out.

After several moments, a dull red light came on above the doorway and began flashing rhythmically.

The lifeboat’s going to launch.

Mallory pulled himself to the wall so he could fold the cot shut, locking it against the wall. Then he pushed himself to the opposite wall as his cabin vibrated with the first shock of the bolts blowing free between the lifeboat and the rest of the ship. He unfolded the acceleration couch as the second shock hit. How many? he wondered as he wrapped himself into the safety harness. He counted the third shock, and the cabin felt as if it was half floating. Four. Five. Six.

A giant invisible fist slammed into his gut as the lifeboat’s engine kicked in, blowing him away from the Eclipse . It only took a second or two for him to realize that the lifeboat was doing more than clearing the vicinity of the Eclipse. Even through the blast of two or three Gs of forward acceleration, he could feel the pitch and yaw of the boat maneuvering beyond the impulse to escape.

The too-long acceleration must have nearly played out the small disposable drive attached to the boat. Once it cut out and Mallory was able to free himself from the acceleration couch, the nav computer spoke over the PA. “Three hours until atmospheric insertion.”

Date: 2526.6.3 (Standard) 300,000 km from Salmagundi-HD 101534

All the lifeboats would have jettisoned, and the nav computers would attempt to put them down in a cluster close to population, if there were any obvious population centers. The computers would try to put the boats someplace survivable—no mountain ranges, deep oceans, desert, or tundra.

The operative word there was try .

If they were lucky, the beacons would be working and the survivors would be able to reach each other on foot. Mallory pulled out the emergency kit and found the comm beacon for his lifeboat. He pulled out the little handheld unit and scanned for the other lifeboats. The display showed six active beacons out there, but no sign which of them had survivors—no transmissions other than the standard emergency broadcasts.

Someone has to be first, Mallory thought. He switched the unit to transmit.

“This is Fitz—This is Mallory, from the Eclipse. Is anyone receiving this transmission?”

He repeated himself a half dozen times before he heard a voice return, “Hello, hello, hello?”

It was coming from beacon number five.

“Yes, I can hear you.”

“—bzzt—ron Dörner. I’m with Dr. Pak and Dr. Brody. Dr. Brody’s injured.”

“What happened?”

“—bzzt—during acceleration. His wrist is broken—bzzt—unconscious.”

“Do you have the medkit out?”

“Yes.”

Mallory talked her through treating Brody. The doctor had a compound fracture and a head wound. Fortunately he was breathing okay and his pupils were responsive. Mallory spent a half hour talking Dr. Dörner through stabilizing the fracture and getting Brody strapped into one of the acceleration couches. If they were lucky, that would be enough to get him to ground safely.

“Stow everything you can for reentry.” Mallory told her. “It isn’t going to be pleasant.”

“Yes—”

“When you land, don’t leave the vicinity of the lifeboat unless you’re in immediate danger. These things will try to cluster their landings, and if you stay by the beacon, I can probably reach you before anyone else.”

He could hear the hesitation in her voice before she said, “Yes.”