The Dying Light
Page 7
“Maii?” Still no reply. She touched the girl’s shoulders and tried again: “Maii, can you—?”
Startled, Maii jumped back in her seat, pushing Roche’s hand away.
After a moment, the girl’s panic subsided and her breathing eased.
Roche winced as a wave of images and emotions washed into her mind: fear, loneliness, darkness, panic... She concentrated, doing her best to hold the mental inrush at bay while trying to radiate reassurance to the Surin child. When the torrent of emotions ebbed, Roche continued.
Roche searched the girl’s blank face. The blood on her cheek stood out against pale skin and hair.
Almost imperceptibly, Maii shrugged.
Maii nodded slowly.
Roche’s understanding filled the void of the Surin’s unfinished sentence. The thought of Maii locked in the darkness of the blind and deaf-mute easily overrode her reservations—even though it meant having the girl constantly at her side. The last person to have depended on her so totally had killed himself to save her—
She stamped down on the memory. The last thing Maii needed right now was to have both of them dwelling on Veden’s death.
“Is she all right?” Cane called out from his station. “She will be,” Roche replied, then said to Maii:
Triggering her implants, Roche spoke aloud: “Box, if you’ve got the time, I’d like to talk to you about Asha’s Gauntlet.”
“Of course, Morgan.”
“We studied them under Weapons Conventions in Military College,” she explained to the others. “The idea is to turn a star into a giant hypershield generator or something. Is that right, Box?”
“Essentially,” replied the Box. “A primitive ‘solar envelope,’ as it was originally known, was designed by the Eckandar Trade Axis several thousand years ago. Two prototypes—called K’mok ni Asha, which translates as ‘Asha’s Gauntlet’—were built in the 38th Millennium by the Kesh government. They tested one on a frontier system, but the experiment was a failure. Because of the disastrous results the second prototype was never used. It was rumored to have been dismantled, although this was never confirmed.”
“I remember,” said Roche, nodding. “The Gauntlet was supposedly designed as a means of protection for a system against attack, but the one experiment they conducted ended up completely destroying the system.” Roche looked at the screen, and the sky empty of stars—all but one; the reddened Hintubet now occupied center stage again. “And now it seems we’re inside one.”
“At first,” said the Box, “I was reluctant to accept the possibility that Palasian System had been encapsulated in such a fashion—even though the data suggested as much. It wasn’t until we arrived at the point-source—the external manifestation of the Gauntlet’s boundary—that the evidence became too conclusive to ignore.”
“How does it work?” asked Cane.
The Box explained: “By manipulating a star in precisely the right fashion, it is possible to create and sustain a Riem-Perez Horizon large enough to enclose an entire system.”
“That’s the same sort of shield COE Intelligence HQ uses, isn’t it?” said Roche.
“Correct,” said the Box. “And the Ana Vereine, and most other ships large enough to power one.”
“But we couldn’t see the system from the outside,” Roche said. “A hypershield isn’t the same as camouflage—”
“No; hypershields are used as barriers against hyperspatial attack rather than to hide something from view. However, scale comes into play for Riem-Perez Horizons greater than two thousand cubic kilometers in volume. Space-time can only tolerate such a disturbance on a small scale; any larger and the enclosed area is parceled off and lifted to hyperspace.”
“Where we are now,” finished Roche.
“Thus the area of space contained within the affected area cannot be seen, because it simply no longer exists in the ‘real’ universe,” said the Box. “The anomaly—which is a boundary effect—is all that remains.”
“That explains why the engines stopped in mid-jump,” said Kajic. “The jump was literally open-ended—across the boundary and into the space within.”
“In a sense, we are still jumping,” said the Box.
Cane moved closer to the screen, studying the image with fascination. “It’s a remarkable concept,” he said. “To move an entire system—”
“No distance at all, really,” said the Box. “It has no vector relative to the real universe, and will not travel in the same way this ship slow-jumps.”
“So I assume it will return when the Gauntlet is switched off?”
“No,” said the Box.
“That’s where the original Kesh experiment went wrong,” added Roche. “It can’t be switched off.”
“The process is extremely energy expensive,” explained the Box. “The sun’s fuel is exhausted in a matter of weeks, during which time the Gauntlet gradually collapses back to a point. The system is destroyed in the process.”
Cane tilted his head. “Then employing a Gauntlet to defend a system would be a pointless exercise.”
“Which is why the Warfare Protocol forbids its use.” Roche nodded at the screen. “It’s no use at all for defense, and would make too destructive a weapon.”
“I can think of only one possible explanation,” the AI said. “Any attempt to cross the external boundary of the Gauntlet without simultaneously slow-jumping back to the real universe will result in complete annihilation. Similarly, any attempt to use a hyperspace drive while within the space contained by the Gauntlet will render the drive useless.”
“So if the Sol clone warrior has no access to a hyperspace drive,” Haid cut in, “or doesn’t know how to employ one properly in the Gauntlet, he’ll be unable to leave the system.”
“Exactly,” said the Box.
“A trap, then.” Cane nodded. “And one which is not immediately lethal. But why go to so much trouble?”
“And who laid the trap?” asked Haid.
“Whoever got their hands on the second prototype, I guess,” Roche said. “Which could have been almost anyone, depending on where the Kesh stored it.”
“At least we know one thing,” said Kajic. “It probably wasn’t the Sol Wunderkind.”
“Don’t be so sure about that,” said Haid. “We’re trapped in here, too, remember?”
“Not ‘trapped,’” said the Box. “We can leave any time we wish, simply by crossing the boundary the correct way.”
“But the boundary is shrinking, right?” said Haid.
“Yes—”
“And we can’t signal for help if we get into trouble.” Haid grimaced. “That makes us a little more vulnerable than I like to be.”
“As long as we do not employ our slow-jump drive while inside the Gauntlet, we will be able to leave.” The Box sounded weary of the argument. “And even so, the natural collapse of the boundary is relatively slow. Should something go wrong, we would have several weeks to find another means out.”
“Your confidence is admirable,” said Haid, “even if I find it slightly naive.”
Roche decided it was time to change the subject. “Uri, how long now until the first probe arrives at Voloras?”
“One hour and fifteen minutes. That’s when you can expect the first decent pictures, anyway.”
“Good. I suggest we get back to work until then. We might need to move fast, depending on what we see.”
Haid scratched his scalp with his new fingers as he swung back to the weapons console. “Chances are it won’t be a welcoming committee.”
* * *
For Roche, finding something to keep herself occupied while the probe was in transit proved to be easy. With repairs still to be completed, the transmission waiting to be translated, and small amounts of long-distance data still trickling in, there was more than enough work for a crew of several dozen. Even with the Box and Kajic both able to perform multiple tasks at once, running a ship the size of the Ana Vereine under such conditions would never be straightforward.
Nevertheless, Roche had the opportunity to double-check her memory of Palasian System’s records against the data the ship-bound detectors had collected.
The COE navigation register had been updated during the last survey, in ‘850 EN. Since then, few changes had been appended to the record. Palasian System had never been fully colonized; given its lack of a planet with a breathable atmosphere, that wasn’t surprising. The innermost world was a rocky ball boiling under the glare of the F2 primary and was home only to an automated solar research facility. The remaining seven planets were gas giants, two of them bloated with hydrogen. All possessed numerous moons; two had extensive ring systems, but it would take more than pretty scenery to attract colonists. As it was, only the system’s proximity to a Kesh border had earned it an Armada base and a refueling station. Not even the presence of three mineral-rich dark-body halos around the sun had tempted more than a cursory mining presence, an arm of the same company that had run the operation—and the penal colony—on Sciacca’s World: Dirt & Other Commodities, Inc.
Still, Roche told herself, almost half a million people had called Palasian System home—at least temporarily. And she had to admit that there was plenty to look at. In all her travels for COE Intelligence, she had never had the chance to see a double-jovian before.
Part of her had hoped that when Kajic finally located the pair on the far side of the system, it would look somehow different from the other faint blobs he assured her were planets—but it didn’t. All she saw was another dot, tinged red by Hintubet’s new color.
With Maii at her side, she returned to mapping the locations of the planets and planning contingency routes between them.
Roche felt the reave’s attention drift elsewhere, studying the files vicariously through Roche’s senses.
Dirt and Other Commodities Inc. had been the main target of Haid’s underground resistance movement on Sciacca’s World. Roche would understand any lingering resentment he might still feel after so many years spent fighting them. At the same time she didn’t want it to get in the way. She would attempt to rescue DAOC employees just as she would anyone else—if there were any remaining in the system...
“The probe’s rounding Voloras,” announced Kajic, breaking the silence on the bridge. Roche cleared the vision in her artificial eye and looked up. The screen showed a close-up of the swollen arc of the gray gas giant’s banded atmosphere. Purple haze tinged the view as the probe used the planet’s magnetic field to brake.
“Seen anything yet?” Roche asked.
“Not much,” Kajic replied. “The other moons appear to be untouched. The change in Hintubet’s radiation has raised a few storms in Voloras’s outer atmosphere, and there’s a little more rubble in closer than the records say there should be. But apart from that, the planet is as expected.”
“Still no signals?”
“All quiet,” said Haid. “I can try provoking something, if you like.”
“Best not to at this stage.”
“I’ve no problem with that.” Haid absently tapped the console as he talked. “Nothing’s obstructed the probes so far, but that’s not to say it won’t happen. They’re not exactly subtle, the way they accelerate.”
“As long as no one traces the tightbeams back to us, we’ll be okay.” Roche gestured at the screen. “How long until the moon comes into view?”
“A few seconds,” said Kajic, his image facing the screen from the center of the bridge. “When it does, I’ve programmed the probe to begin its survey automatically. There’s enough of a delay to make direct control tricky.”
“So it might already be seeing the moon?” asked Roche.
“Or even have been destroyed,” said Kajic. “Although I...”
He stop
ped before he could finish the sentence. “Wait. Here it comes. I’ll enhance the image as much as I can for the screen, but it might be better through your implants.”
Roche put her hand back onto the link and slaved her vision to the probe’s data, at the same time shutting her right eye to prevent overlap. Instantly she found herself hanging over the surface of the gas giant, spearing through space with a magnetic storm roiling around her. Ahead and just over the bulge of the horizon, a reddish dot had appeared.
“That’s it,” said Kajic. “We’re lucky it’s not eclipsed by the planet; the image would have been much weaker.”
“Can you make anything out yet?” Roche asked.
“Nothing definite. The albedo matches, except for a dark patch on the southern hemisphere. You’ll see it as the probe gets closer. It doesn’t appear on the maps, so it probably isn’t a surface feature.”
“It isn’t the base itself?” asked Haid.
“Refueling bases are always around the equator,” Roche answered. “Orbital tethers won’t work anywhere else.”
“Of course.” Haid’s tone was apologetic. “It’s been a while since I last saw one.”
The image sharpened as the moon came closer, becoming a gibbous disc. Its surface was smooth and gray, like its parent, covered with a thick layer of ice. The unusual patch Kajic had pointed out dominated the bottom left quarter: a drop of ink on a circular bloodstain.
“It looks like a shadow,” said Roche.
“I think it might be,” Kajic agreed. “A shadow at the bottom of a crater.”
Roche took a deep breath at the implications of that thought. As the probe swooped closer for its first pass, the details became clear all too quickly. Something had struck the moon’s southern hemisphere with the force of a large asteroid. The resulting impact had torn a sizable chunk out of the moon and rung its cold core like a bell. Deep fault lines ran from pole to pole, where the brittle, icy crust had fractured. In infrared, the heat at the shadowy bottom of the crater was obvious, glowing like a red pupil in a dead, gray eye.