S. Swann - Prophets

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Hubris

Great power does not foster great flexibility.

—The Cynic’s Book of Wisdom

The love of power is the love of ourselves.

—WILLIAM HAZLITT (1778-1830)

Date: 2526.6.4 (Standard) 1,800,000 km from Salmagundi-HD 101534

After an hour of chaos, the bridge on the Voice had settled down into a more normal operation. The battle group had disengaged and spread out into a close formation around the Voice . The Jeddah and the Jizan had established radio contact with the Eclipse, and the Jizan was in the process of docking. And Admiral Hussein had recorded a revised diplomatic message for the planet, one that the Voice ’s communications officers were repeatedly beaming down to the surface. They still waited for a response.

And all the shipboard clocks turned over to mark a new day. As the timer on the main holo changed to read 00:00:00, one of the ensigns from navigation walked up to Captain Rasheed.

Admiral Hussein distinctly heard Captain Rasheed say, “That can’t be right.”

“What’s the problem, Captain?”

Captain Rasheed straightened up and said, “Give your report to Admiral Hussein, Ensign.”

“Yes, sir!” The ensign came to attention facing the admiral. “The observatory data we’re receiving is not syncing with our mapped projections, sir.”

Admiral Hussein frowned. “You’re not saying we’re not on course, Ensign?”

“No, sir. The map projection is only wrong for one star.”

Captain Rasheed called over to the nav station and said, “Put the anomaly up on the main holo.”

In response, the main display for the bridge changed to show a segment of a star field overlaid with the vector map generated by the navigational system. The actual stars fit in the overlay, none off by a fraction of a degree. However, in the center of the display, a single red circle was disconcertingly empty. There was no sign of the star that should have been contained within the marker, it wasn’t off by a degree here or there, it was just gone .

The text next to the empty circle read “Xi Virginis.”

Admiral Hussein’s first thought was of their sister ship, the Prophet’s Sword, which had tached to Xi Virginis barely a week before their own departure. Things had already gone far beyond the operational parameters of this mission; this did not feel good.

“Is some outer planet eclipsing the star?” he asked.

“We’ve been checking for something occluding our observations, sir. If anything is, it’s showing no detectable radiation of its own, inherent or reflected, and it is far enough away not to interfere with any other visible landmark.”

Coincidence? Something just happened to be eclipsing the destination of our sister ship so precisely?

Admiral Hussein leaned forward and said to Captain Rasheed, “I want every scrap of data you can get on Xi Virginis, and scan for any tach-transmissions from the Sword .”

“Yes, sir.”

Communications identified a signal almost instantaneously. They had a lock on a data transmission, a tach-burst specifically coded for the Voice, and the encryption wrapping it identified the Sword better than a fingerprint.

When the signal was decrypted, the main holo on the Voice ’s bridge filled with the face of Admiral Naji Bitar, the commander of the Sword ’s fleet. Hussein wondered if his discomfort over Bitar’s grinning expression was simply a matter of decorum.

“Greetings, Admiral Hussein,” said Bitar’s smiling face. “My communications officers have timed this to reach you upon your arrival. I wish to provide you with some good news. Our contact with the colony at Xi Virginis has been quite positive. Not only are they enthusiastic to ally with the Caliphate, but they have been willing to share technological advances that are . . . extraordinary.”

The star. What happened to the star?

“Your observations will have detected that the star Xi Virginis has ceased radiating. This shouldn’t alarm you. The colonists here have discovered a means to harness all the energy produced by the star. This technology is part of what they wish to share.”

A Dyson Sphere? Is that what he’s talking about?

“Needless to say, you must communicate home as discreetly as possible. The Caliphate has many enemies, and we cannot risk communicating this news back in any way that might alert them.”

Admiral Hussein heard Captain Rasheed pass some orders on to the communications officers, restricting physical access to the tach-comm.

“You will receive a more personal contact within eighteen hours standard after your arrival.You will have a more in-depth briefing on what we have discovered here. We are about to embark on a new age, Muhammad, my friend. God is great.”

The feed swapped Bitar’s face for the green-and-white crescent of the Caliphate, then ended. Admiral Hussein didn’t know what to make of the transmission. It felt inauthentic from the address all the way to his closing. There was an aggressive cheer pervading the message that was more than unprofessional. . . .

Creepy, Hussein thought. The word is “creepy.”

Captain Rasheed turned toward Hussein. A gulf of silence filled the bridge. All waiting for him.

Hussein had known the operation had changed as soon as he had seen the Eclipse . Now, after hearing Bitar’s message, he wondered if there would be anything of the original operation left. At the very least, Bitar’s short speech, bolstered by the missing Xi Virginis, completely revised Hussein’s risk assessment.

He looked up to the bridge at large. “No mention of Admiral Bitar’s speech or Xi Virginis is to occur beyond the people present here. You are not to discuss it among yourselves unless a superior officer is present and has given permission. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” from the bridge crew.

“If anyone mentions the disappearance of Xi Virginis to any of you, you will only confirm that command is aware of the situation. That is the only statement permitted. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

He looked down at Captain Rasheed. “I want you to detail a science officer and someone from the medical staff to analyze that tach-broadcast. Now.”

Date: 2526.6.4 (Standard) 750,000 km from Salmagundi-HD 101534

Mosasa stared at the holo, where the security cameras showed the spidery form of the Jizan drawing the wreckage of the Eclipse into itself. A dozen robots, and a half dozen men in hardshell EVA suits, crawled through the wreckage by the drive section like fat white aphids invading a rotten log. The invaders connected cables, secured debris, and attached umbilicals from the Caliphate ship to what remained of the Eclipse ’s power and life support . . .

And data . . .

He barely listened to Parvi as she talked to the crew of the Jizan, guiding them through the heavily modified and severely damaged systems. For all the activity, movement, the babble around him, he felt as alone as he had ever been at any point in his ersatz life. His world had shrunk from the universe to the claustrophobic prison of the Eclipse . For the first time in hundreds of years, he felt trapped inside his own skin.

He had built his identity on being aware. Unknowns were solidly delineated areas to explore, not this vast all-encompassing darkness.

The Caliphate should not be here. Not yet. Not with this kind of force. They had no political or economic impetus to launch their reclamation of the colonies out here so soon. Travel time and the limits of tach-drives made it impractical for them to take physical possession. Of course they’d come out here eventually, but only after the forces impelling the various states out here had reached a political equilibrium and they put in place the infrastructure to support the journey out here.