A Sword Into Darkness (21 page)

A silvery beam, either larger and brighter than the others or merely closer, shot out from the primary vessel and struck the
Promise
mid-frame.  Where the beam made contact, the surface of the probe wavered and became indistinct.  The effect slowly spread out from the point of impact, and static began to show up in the remaining camera views.

Promise
had been programmed for hostility, though.

The photon drive fired at full thrust, forcing the probe out of the beam’s path at several g’s of acceleration.  The spar holding the probe’s self-camera bent down under the thrust, pulling the probe out of the central view.  Despite that and the vibration from the engine,
Promise
was still visible and still transmitting.

The beam moved to re-engage the probe, causing
Promise
to shift and redirect or reverse thrust each few seconds.  Every time the beam skated by with another glancing blow, the new hit began to waver and become indistinct like the first.  The effect was not reliant upon the beam either.  Damage from the first strike and every subsequent one still spread further, albeit at a slower pace than when the beam had been feeding it.  Sparkling dust streamed away from the probe, crumbs left behind by whatever invisible forces were eating the hull.

Promise
made a valiant effort, but it was doomed from the start.  Whoever it was that controlled the silver beam soon grew tired of the probe’s attempt at being elusive.  An invisible beam, its presence revealed only by its devastating effect, stabbed out from the ship.  A brightly shining cut opened up the reactor and the drive chamber, appearing almost at once.  Chunks of molten debris exploded from the photon drive and the thrust cut out, leaving the probe adrift and twisting.

Static filled the screen and faded away, cycling in and out as the transmission dish was pulled past the limits of its gimbals and it lost the lock on Earth.  The laser did not bother making a second pass, its operator content with only crippling the agile probe.

Maneuvers at an end, the silver beam returned, locking on to a single spot on the probe’s hull.  The disintegrating effect continued on, hull plates, framework and components swiftly transmuting into so much scintillating dust, all of which streamed away to be collected by the ship.

There was a flicker, a flare, and then static.  Nathan watched the static until it froze at the end of the video stream, and then continued to sit there.  His heart pounded at the confirmation of everything they had worried about, and a vision of Gordon gasping upon the floor returned to him, unbidden.

If he was absolutely honest with himself, he had to admit that he had never really, truly believed in the Deltans.  Seeing them disintegrate something you had built with your own hands had a way of convincing even the harshest skeptics, though.

It all came crashing in upon him:  the invasion, Gordon, the ship, Kris, the government, his failure aboard the
Rivero
.  Nathan was one man, caught up in events that had already battered him about, but this was huge, bigger than himself, bigger than anything he had ever been prepared for.

What the hell am I going to do?

He stood and rubbed his face vigorously, trying to banish the chills he felt through sheer manual effort.  He wandered about the office, thoughts wild and unfocused, veering between reasonable worries and irrational, unreasonable terror.

Eventually he stopped, unsure whether his misery would be better dispelled by crying for his lot or laughing at the utter futility of all they had done.  He settled for shaking his head and just looked down.  He found himself standing in the spot where Gordon died.

Nathan resisted the urge to sidestep.  He stood his ground and looked down at the carpet that had been Gordon Lee’s deathbed.  Slowly, but with a noticeable salutary effect, some of the wild emotion dropped away, supplanted by clear, orderly purpose.

Gordon had faith in him.  Gordon had chosen him to do this, and Gordon had invested everything in Nathan, sure that he could indeed handle whatever might happen.  Nathan felt that he himself was a lesser man than his mentor had been, so how could he possibly have the audacity to doubt him?

The fear fell away.  The worries fell into a hierarchy of concerns, none of which was insoluble.  The misery faded.  In their place rose a new emotion, an emotion that could be just as debilitating, but which also was key to striving and succeeding.

Anger.

Nathan knelt, placing one hand on the carpet where Gordon’s head had lain and one hand on the frozen static of the desk screen.  The Deltans had claimed their first victim, the one man who had risen up to defend humanity against an unknown threat, and if Nathan had anything to say about it, he would be the last victim they would ever claim.

10:  “FATEFUL MEETINGS”

February 24, 2045; Joint House/Senate Secure Briefing Center - TS/SCI Level; US Capitol; Washington DC

The
image on the large display screen dissolved into a wash of static, and the assembled lords of government responded with complete silence.  Nathan hit a button on his remote and the static froze, to be replaced by a diagram of the trajectories defining the rendezvous between the Deltans and the
Promise
.  He turned back to his audience in the somber, austere top-secret briefing chamber.

His table and the screen behind him were the focal point to stepped tiers of stadium style seats taking up the majority of space in the wood-paneled, brushed-steel room.  Seated there along the four rising levels, favoring him with unknowable expressions in the darkness, were senators and representatives of the House and Senate Armed Services committees, DOD officials, NASA representatives, and key Cabinet members, including the President’s Science Advisor, the Secretary of Defense, and the National Security Advisor.  Little, unlit placards with thin lettering identified each person, but he could only make out a few.  He recognized even fewer by sight alone, such as the Security Advisor and the SECDEF.

Nathan smiled grimly.  His nerves at confronting such a high-powered audience had mostly settled down, but the video and the stark memory it brought up had set them jangling once more.  Still, there was no alternative, no choice.  The project needed him here, on their turf, in the basement of the Capitol itself.  He needed to do this and do it well, both for Gordon’s memory and for their own potential survival.

“Ladies and gentlemen, all telemetry ends soon after the conclusion of the video-stream.  We must assume that the
Promise
was either destroyed or was captured for study.  The radar and lidar telemetry, as well as the passive sensor data support what the video shows for the most part.”  Nathan clicked his remote again, changing the diagram to one of the Deltan ship-system.  “The aliens travel in a convoy of sorts, with their ships in orbit around their main drive.  It looks a bit like a miniature solar system, with the vessels laid out almost perfectly on the classic Lagrange points, but the drive is not a star, and the vessels are not planets.

“The drive is the largest component, a constrained sphere of plasma approximately 1000 kilometers in diameter, emitting a photon reaction thrust along one polar axis.  The vessels all maintain a circular orbit around the equator of the drive, at a radius of approximately 800 kilometers, held there by some mix of electromagnetic fields, gravity, and possibly some undetectable forces.

“The vessels are as follows,” he said, highlighting each in turn with a click of the control.  “The control ship.  The junkyard.  The cathedral.  And the polyp.  The control ship is the smallest at twenty kilometers in diameter, and the others are all about the same size at 45 kilometers each.  We don’t know the purpose behind any of them, or why their designs all vary so greatly.  All we know is that the control ship seems to take an active role in controlling the drive and the rotation of the convoy, and that it collected all the debris from the
Promise
’s sub-probes.  Presumably, it gathered up the probe itself after it stopped transmitting.”

Nathan set down the control and looked over the darkened assembly.  “That’s pretty much all we can say about the rendezvous.  You each have full briefing packets before you which cover the video and telemetry analysis in greater detail.  If you have any questions, please ask, but remember that all we know is there in the briefing.  Anything else is nothing more than pure speculation, at least until
Promise II
makes its rendezvous.  That includes conjecture over whether or not this was an overtly hostile act, whether it was some form of defense, or even if this was just a common, innocent reaction that we’re simply misinterpreting.  We won’t know the answers to those questions until we are in direct contact.  Now, given that, are there any questions before I continue with current ops plans and any future initiatives?”

The lights in the room came up somewhat, and he now faced a room peppered with expressions ranging from shock, to incredulity, to fear, and to amusement.  He scanned over the room of darkly polished wood and brushed steel, hoping there would be no redirect, that he could continue before his confidence had a chance to falter, but in a room filled with people who were paid to pontificate, there was little chance of that.

One senator stood in the third tier, behind the cabinet members, but Nathan did not recognize him.  He nodded to the man, wishing again for a set of congressional flash cards or at least some brighter placards, and then sat.  The tall, stately, white-haired gentleman from Nebraska looked somewhat adrift, but he flashed his most challenging glare and addressed Nathan directly, though his comments were meant for the crowd.  “Aliens.  You gathered us together, interrupted our very tight schedules, shoved a bunch of spurious charts and analyses in front of us for … what?  For aliens?”

Nathan responded from his seat at the table heading up the assembly.  “Yes, Senator.  I know it’s asking a lot.  I, myself, didn’t really believe for years, but none of us now have the luxury of time to indulge our doubts.  Unfortunately, you need to get on board almost immediately.  There are decisions that have to be made, and you folks are the only ones that can make them.”

The senator just shook his head.  “The Deltan invasion has long been the province of charlatans, madmen, and the ignorantly paranoid.  But now that you have your little movie and your charts, you expect us to join up with the conspiracy theorists and just open the coffers to you?  I really don’t think so.  How do we even know this telemetry is real—that your probe is real?”

Nathan started to speak, but a hand closed over his own to stop him.  Lydia Russ sat beside him, holding him still with a look.  Instead, she rose gracefully to her feet, standing as the newly appointed head of Windward Inc., as decreed within Gordon's updated will.  “Senator James, do we really need to start grandstanding in here?  This brief is above Top Secret.  None of your constituents will ever see it.  C-SPAN Six won’t be covering any part of it.  There will be no sound bites, and no lobbying.  Today is about planning and policy, not politicking.

“Now, how exactly do you think we even got you all in this room today?  Was it because of my winning personality?  Because I’m a veteran Beltway Bandit?  Perhaps out of belated respect for my predecessor and friend, a man who gave so much to this nation?  Not likely in this crowd.  No, we did it by proving the data, to the satisfaction of the DOD, NASA, and top minds in the fields of science and industry.  If you would have bothered to open your briefing, you’d have noted that every bit of it has been vetted and verified already.

“The probe was real—we have video of its launch, as well as eye-witness testimony from our own naval ships.  The telemetry is real—it was received by numerous tracking stations who will each confirm that it was transmitted from deep space.  And though it’s possible that we could have performed some sort of Hollywood magic to show the rendezvous, the briefing package will clearly show that is not the case.  It’s all real:  the probe, the data, and the aliens, certified by your own top government experts.

“So denying the situation at this point is the equivalent of screaming to us that the Earth is flat or that Washington is a bastion of virtue—not only is it crazy, it’s naive, short-sighted, and a waste of time.  Given the evidence we’ve presented, no one should have to stretch their credulity any more than we do for any other piece of actionable intel.  Face it, this is our new reality, and we’re already late in confronting it.  We simply don’t have the time for business-as-usual.  I recommend you start accepting that and stop obstructing the business of this committee.”

Senator James opened and closed his mouth like a gasping fish a few times, but he soon noticed something important among his paperwork and he sat down quietly to examine it further.  Nathan suppressed a grin and stood as Lydia sat.  He looked at her.  He could tell why Gordon had liked her so, why his will had appointed her as his successor.  They were kindred spirits.

He turned back to the room.  “Any
other
questions?”

The conference chamber was quiet for a moment, but eventually a congresswoman stood in the fourth tier of seats, smoothing her dress and capturing the room with her gaze.  When all eyes were on her, she spoke.  “Mr. Kelley, I just want to express what most of us here are probably feeling.  This whole situation has taken us aback.  I don’t want to be obstructionist, Ms. Russ, but briefing package or no, this is something that’s going to take some getting used to.  There are questions that need to be asked, and we can’t even formulate them until we can get our minds around the basic situation.

“Aliens?  Where are they from?  Why are they coming here?  How can we prepare for them without making some critical misstep?  Should your fears prove justified, how can we possibly defend against a capability so firmly beyond our own?  And most importantly, how do we couch this new reality to the people of America and the rest of the planet?”