Usurper of the Sun

by Housuke Nojiri

  Aki realized she hadn’t eaten. She entered a command on her screen to warm her food.

  “Don’t worry. I’m fine. A little disappointed, that’s all.”

  “You have a harder shell than I thought,” Raul said.

  “It thickens with age. How are you and the others holding up?”

  “Aida is kind of down. The others are doing better than she is.” Aida had shared Aki’s dream of connecting with the Builders. Aki would never forget her stern determination when Aida had told Aki how much she wanted to be part of the Contact Team. Her positive personality had been an asset.

  “I’m bummed our job has gone from being ambassadors leading humanity’s first contact with an alien intelligence to spectators to the destruction of that same alien intelligence,” Raul said.

  “Maybe your shell is more delicate than mine. Observing will be handled by the automatic computer system.” Aki took a sip of the creamed stew the alimentation system served her.

  “I don’t get it. How could this tyrannical consciousness evolve to the level of an interstellar civilization?” Raul asked.

  “Maybe tyranny is the key to their success.”

  “What, it’s crappy luck that we’re on their list of solar systems to conquer?”

  JULY 30, 12:55 AM GMT

  EARTH WAS ON the brink of its first interstellar war. The initial cluster of missiles was twenty thousand kilometers from what the UNSDF considered to be the Builders’ blind spot. The spiderwebs had already expanded and were on course to impact with the vessel. The nuclear missiles each contained four independent warheads that would separate from each other and fly distinct courses as they approached the target. The changes in trajectory were limited, because expanding that capacity would have required more fuel and reduced the carrying capacity of the missiles. The UNSDF had determined that the ability to destroy was more important than the ability to maneuver.

  The main body of the missile was designed to confuse the Builders by exploding into fragments of radar-scattering flak. This flak, along with a decoy heat source, had been designed to create diversions sufficient for stealth bombing.

  The fact that the missiles were loaded with multiple warheads and configured with decoy devices had been hidden from the public. At the demonstration, the four missiles had been programmed to hit in synch, the precaution taken in case the Builders were monitoring radio transmissions.

  The War Zone display at UNSDF Fleet Headquarters showed the alien vessel surrounded by numerous blips closing in on the target. The ship showed no signs of reorienting itself to destroy the missiles that were approaching its blind spots. On the Phalanx, Aki sensed that the battle was going to be unpleasant.

  Then the nuclear pulse engine went dark again. Unexpectedly, the spokes connecting the center of the ship to the surrounding Torus disappeared. The center of the ship separated from the Torus. The iris reappeared and the vessel assumed its attack position.

  The center spun. The attack beam fired in multiple directions in rapid succession. Every missile and spiderweb was disintegrated, nothing but clouds of slowly dispersing vapor that floated along the original trajectories. Within several minutes, the center of the ship returned to the Torus, extended its spokes, and the two pieces rejoined as if nothing unusual had occurred.

  “If this is their way of communicating, their message is obvious. Humanity is so low on the evolutionary scale that we’re not even worth acknowledging,” Raul said. Aki hmmed in agreement. He continued, “Their reaction is to destroy anything of ours that impedes their mission. They see us as annoying houseflies that won’t leave them alone. Even if we execute our best attack, they take one swing and splat!”

  “Now is the wrong time to be cynical, Raul.” Aki was thinking along similar lines but felt that voicing negativity when the situation was this dire was inappropriate.

  “Okay, fine. Let’s look at the situation logically. They only acknowledge us when we get in their way. Is that communication? No. As I see it, there’s no way for us to get through to them. Damn, this situation seems familiar.”

  “Familiar? How so?” Aki asked.

  “Forget about it,” he said dismissively.

  ACT V: JULY 30, 2041

  8 AM GMT

  “IF WILLING TO assist by observing, comply by advancing to twenty thousand kilometers from the alien vessel. Please respond,” said the message from UNSDF Fleet Headquarters. The question was simple but reaching an answer forced Aki to risk her crew.

  The plan for the Second Armada was to stagger missile volleys unevenly, sorting the remaining warheads. Some had extra fuel and others were decoys. The extra fuel would allow the loaded warheads enhanced maneuverability in order to avoid the Builders’ attack beam. As the missiles approached target, the decoy missiles would be detonated in sequence, with the hopes that the heat blast, blinding flash, and surge of radiation would confuse Builder sensory and defense systems.

  Instead of targeting the blind spot, this armada’s attack was simple: the missiles traveled at maximum velocity along the shortest possible route. New software had been uploaded to the Phalanx to enhance its observational capabilities, enabling the Phalanx to determine the direction of the attack before the beam fired. From that vantage point, the Phalanx could alert the missile that it was being targeted and should pursue evasive action. The missiles themselves were not equipped with as advanced visual scanning systems. That task was delegated to the Phalanx. The Phalanx was on the opposite side of the alien vessel, and several workarounds had been put in place to allow Aki’s ship to communicate directly with the weapons. In most cases, computer scenarios predicted these difficulties would mean an average delay of one second. Because of this, the Phalanx had been asked to get as close as possible to the Builders.

  Move in close, back off, move in close. Damn it, I wish Fleet Headquarters would make up their minds. Given the fortune invested in the Phalanx, getting the most use out of the ship spoke to Aki’s business sense. She decided that explaining the request to the crew face to face was the best course of action. She sent the request for them to assemble in the crew room.

  “Our observations show their line of defense to be fifteen thousand kilometers. If we move in to twenty thousand kilometers, we should reduce the time lag in communicating with the missiles to an average of under one second and improve the precision of our observations while remaining in the safe zone. What do you think?”

  Everyone looked around the room but remained silent for a long moment. It was Raul who asked the question everyone was thinking: “Is there any basis for the hypothesis that we won’t be fired upon at that distance?”

  “Merely what we have observed,” Aki said. She could not see their eyes or interpret their body language through their suits.

  Raul took a deep breath. “I don’t know about you, but I prepped myself for the risks of this mission before I got on the ship. I’m down if you are, Aki.”

  “This is different than hypothetical scenarios. Our ship would be playing an active role in the combat. If the Builders realize our involvement, they’ll eliminate us,” Igor said.

  At twenty thousand kilometers, if the attack beam were used on the Phalanx, the beam would reach the ship almost instantaneously. Despite its agility and speed, the Phalanx had little hope of dodging an attack by the Builders should one come. Though the Phalanx flew outside of the line of defense, Aki knew that the Builders’ line of defense had nothing to do with the range of their beam weapon.

  “This is scary enough that I hadn’t thought about it at all. What about the graser? Isn’t that the UNSDF’s ace in the hole? Why put our butts on the line when the second round of missiles will get destroyed as quickly as the first?” Aida said as she adjusted the strap on her chair.

  “I think the UNSDF realizes that the graser may not work,” Aki said, making sure to keep her voice even and speak clearly. “I assumed the graser would recognize the Builders’ ship when it approached Mercury or the Vert-Ring, with the i
dentification being made by the collimation telescope on the Island. Now the Builders’ ship, since so much was burned for fuel to decelerate, looks nothing like it originally did—different mass, different shape. But the Builders were heading, without trepidation, toward Mercury. They are confident of being recognized by their own security. If I am right, that means the graser will still recognize them too.”

  “Of course,” Igor said. “The graser on the Thompson no longer had the collimation telescope attached. But if the telescope is still able to receive a signal from the Builders, there would be the chance that a fail-safe mechanism could activate, preventing the graser from firing. The UNSDF has no idea how the graser actually functions; the discovery of the triggering mechanism was just dumb luck.

  “Because the UNSDF’s secret weapon might not work, we’re expected to risk our lives to boost the second missile attack’s chances. Think of the resources spent on building this ship that could’ve been used to heal the sick, all to give us one chance to communicate with the Builders.” Igor paused, then said, “But I’ll be honest. This isn’t panning out and I think we should do something useful if we can. The personal consequences we face aren’t as important as the consequences to Earth.”

  “Are you saying that the contact mission was nothing but a shot in the dark all along?” Aki asked. She knew Igor was not really condemning the contact mission, but she wanted to make a point of having everyone’s thoughts on the table before she went forward. Even though she was the leader, they were in this together now.

  “Whether I thought so or not, it’s turning out to be.” Igor shrugged.

  “The chances were slim, but it was our obligation as civilized, humane, and sentient beings to try,” Aida said.

  Aki looked around the room. “Does anyone else have anything they want to add?” That was it; the crew of the UNSS Phalanx agreed to comply with the UNSDF request. Aki dismissed her crew, then wrote a brief reply. Igor and Aida began to plot the course to approach the Builders’ ship. Raul tested the new observation program. He used a record of the attack beam to test the software’s ability to predict where the beam would fire.

  The Crookes, the Einstein and the Millikan launched their missiles. The warheads would not reach their target until the next day.

  Aki tried to rest but sleep did not come. Instead, Aida’s feelings of frustration over the poor mission planning and being put in harm’s way echoed through her head. The day she had interviewed Aida, she had canceled the remaining interviews. Aki ordered a lemonflavored sedative from the alimentation system. Before drinking it, she opened a private channel with Raul.

  “Are you awake?”

  “Wide awake. I’m still in my sexual prime, you know.”

  “Well I’m not,” Aki said. “I have a favor to ask.”

  “Shoot.”

  “Can you try to comfort Aida? She is not dealing well.”

  “What do you expect me to do?”

  “I don’t know. Ask her to meet you in the crew room for coffee? Talking to you might cheer her up. She has feelings toward you.”

  “I would rather be cheering you up,” Raul said.

  “Don’t worry about me. I’m not fragile,” Aki said tersely.

  “I guess it’s my imagination then.”

  “If it makes you happy, I was about to take a sedative and get some sleep.”

  “I’m being sent on a comfort mission while you take a nap? I know it’s wrong to say this to a commander but you’re being a coldhearted bitch.”

  “I didn’t mean it the way you’re taking it.”

  “Then don’t take this the wrong way, but whatever, Aki. You got me roped into this mission, and it looks like we’re not going to get back home. For all we know, this is one of the last conversations we’ll ever have.”

  Aki knew Raul was trying to get her to invite him to come comfort her in her cocoon. In the seventeen years they had known each other, there had been several times where they were almost intimate. Aki had always turned him down, sometimes after a few kisses, not because she disliked the idea, but because it was always bad timing and her research had been more important. When she had not been caught in the moment, Aki had always pretended to be oblivious to his advances.

  Aki considered how keeping someone at a distance by pretending not to notice them was also a form of communication. She wondered if the message the Builders were trying to convey was similar to what Aki’s reluctance said about her feelings toward Raul. She realized that, despite his motives, this really was likely to be one of her last conversations with Raul. Memories of embracing a different man, twenty years ago, flooded through her. Aki realized that keeping her distance was what the situation demanded, regardless of the fact that it was not what she really wanted.

  “We have a big day tomorrow. On second thought, you should just get some rest too, Raul. Goodnight.”

  ACT VI: JULY 31, 2041

  5:14 AM GMT

  THE FIRST BURST of light appeared at a distance of seventeen thousand kilometers from the Builders’ ship. The attack beam pointed in the direction of the closest missile, fired, and transformed the missile into a patch of superheated vapor. The image on the viewscreen filled with a blinding flash.

  The observation program was still at work; the laser communication systems still transmitted data to the warheads. The missiles responded with their most recent positional information. One by one, the decoy warheads activated and were picked off, causing the attack beam to stop to recharge for a moment. The window was a brief one—no more than ten seconds. The missiles crossed the ten thousand kilometer mark. Six active warheads remained.

  Another flash of light appeared as a warhead carrying a spiderweb was hit. The webbing vaporized into a plasma cloud. The remaining missiles scattered to avoid being hit. Two more flashes followed, both from the destruction of decoy warheads.

  While the beam was destroying those decoys, two active warheads reached the five thousand–kilometer mark. Relative to their target, the missiles were traveling at fourteen kilometers per second. At that speed, they had to evade the attack beam for six more minutes to strike effectively.

  The attack beam fired again, disintegrating one of the active warheads. Then it took out the last of the decoys. The final active warhead had three thousand kilometers to go and had nothing but its own maneuverability to distract the attack beam from homing in. On its final approach, the missile began to exhaust its fuel to increase its acceleration. Aki could hear the three minutes ticking inside her head.

  The missile’s angular speed relative to the alien vessel increased, evading the attack beam twice.

  At the two thousand–kilometer mark, Aki could not help but feel conflicted. At that moment, the needs of humanity seemed greater than her desire to finally communicate with the Builders. And then the final warhead was disintegrated by the beam. All that remained were twisted fragments of spiderwebs. After a few moments, even those burned away. The only object in close proximity to the Builders was the Phalanx.

  “Igor, get us out,” Aki said.

  “Already on it.”

  Unlike the missiles, the Phalanx was incapable of flying a highspeed zigzag pattern to avoid being hit. The Phalanx was highly maneuverable but had not been built to evade attacks. Since the ship had been headed toward the Builders, it took a few terrifying moments for the Phalanx to decelerate sufficiently to reverse course. Through a feed from the Phalanx’s telescope, Aki kept a close eye on the attack beam’s base. The base began to move, but Aki realized that the base was not preparing to fire. Instead, the iris opened and the Torus initiated its nuclear drive system. The alien vessel resumed its deceleration as it headed toward Mercury.

  “Stop the withdrawal,” Aki commanded. “That looked closer than it was.”

  “A bit too close,” Igor responded. “Looks like the UNSDF has one shot left. You think they’ll actually fire the graser at the Builders?”

  “We’ll find out tomorrow.”

 
Taking a long slow breath and bringing her eyes away from the monitors to look at the smooth white walls of her cocoon, Aki was surprised by how casually she had replied and the estrangement she felt from the dire predicament. Until now, the subject of firing the graser had been taboo aboard the Phalanx. Her thoughts were interrupted by a call from Raul.

  “There’s something I need but I can’t explain to you. It’s access to one of the communication lasers.”

  “There is one we’re not using, but I’d like to know what you’re planning.”

  “It would take too long. Just trust me on this puppy, okay? This is our last chance.” The desperation in Raul’s voice was clear, despite his attempt to keep his tone light. As commander, it was her duty to oversee the ship, but she had chosen Raul because she respected his commitment to finding a way to contact the Builders. She also, as much as the memory hurt, remembered how what seemed like a last chance had presented itself to her on the Island so many years ago.

  “Fine. I am granting you access now.”

  “Hurrah!”

  Aki opened the system administration screen to grant Raul access to communication laser number four. After a while, a large portion of the operations system was being monopolized by a program running under Raul’s access code. The name of the program was NATALIA. Aki wondered if it was merely a tribute.

  7 AM GMT

  EVERYONE EXCEPT RAUL gathered in the crew room for breakfast. Aki could not help but notice how tired they looked. She removed slices of apple pie from the warming unit and handed them out.

  “Igor, could you hand me a salt packet?” she asked.

  Aki opened the packet of salt water, squeezed it onto her pie, and let the liquid soak into the crust.

  “Commander, I’ll never understand your culinary customs.” Igor chuckled after he said it.

  “The salt? Pie is too sweet for me first thing in the morning.”

  “How does adding salt make food less sweet?”