A Sword Into Darkness

by Mays, Thomas A.

  Surrounding the drive, but unconnected to it by any visible means, were four shapes. The configuration of those shapes had perplexed Gordon for years. He had never figured out what significance they had, but it all seemed obvious to Nathan upon seeing it now. The bodies orbiting the Deltan drive were positioned directly upon the classic Lagrange points—three of the shapes in an equilateral triangle around the drive, with the fourth shape stuck in the middle of one of the sides.

  For any two bodies in a gravitationally bound system, where one body is much more massive than another, there were points of gravitational minima and maxima, where another body so placed would be in equilibrium with the first two bodies and the whole system could exist in stable harmony. These were known as the Lagrange points, designated L1 through L5, and these were the points that the four constructs surrounding the drive were configured around.

  The drive obviously filled the role of the central, massive body. The other body of the “two body problem” was the smallest of the constructs. Illuminated by a brilliant violet-red glow from the equator of the drive, this vessel was the most starship-like of the four. It appeared as a dully metallic, plated ovoid, with various projections and hatches of unknown purpose adorning its hull. The vessel had none of the comforting normalities of a human construct—no recognizable docking points, solar panels, thrusters, or view ports. Nathan could hardly even tell the front from the back. The overlapping rings of plates which formed the hull gave it a vaguely arthropod-like appearance, but Nathan was probably more closely related to a lobster than these things were. Below this vessel, all of the silver-white bands of energy around the drive sphere came together, though for what purpose, Nathan was not ready to guess.

  At the L3 point, directly opposite the first vessel across the drive, was an irregular sphere of plated metal. It looked … incomplete. The coloring was not uniform, and there appeared to be nothing purposeful or special about it. There was no reason to believe he could tell anything from first appearances, but to him it looked like nothing so much as a junk heap. It was easily twice the size of the first vessel, but if this really was a Lagrangian configuration, it would have to be much less massive.

  At the L4 and L5 points, 60 degrees ahead and 60 degrees behind the first vessel in its orbit about the drive, were the last two constructs. Similar in size and basic shape to the junk pile at the L3 point, these appeared in no way incomplete. These were nothing less than the cathedrals Gordon had spoken of in his last words.

  The one orbiting at L5 was somewhat spherical or polyhedral, and was covered with long, curving chambers defined by angular ribs, adorned with almost gothic arches. The structure appeared to be made of dark gray, polished stone blocks, accentuated by copper and silver edgework and statuary. There were no lights to reveal its darkly shadowed alcoves, but half of the structure was illuminated by the deep carmine glow from the drive. Nothing about it seemed practical or spaceship-like. Instead, it appeared to be the illegitimate offspring of Notre Dame and Westminster Abbey as interpreted by Salvador Dali or M. C. Escher.

  L4 sported a construct similar in purpose to the gothic structure at L5 (in so far as it bore no relation to either of the two main bodies or the junk heap at L3), but completely different in style and appearance. It was also somewhat spherical, but appeared lumpy and organic. Domes, spires, and hollows adorned the structure, configured in a pleasant, orderly fashion, but which seemed to have been extruded naturally rather than built. It looked to be made of an off-white plastic or polyp, lit on one side by the drive’s reddish-purple glow, while complex geometric designs of intersecting whorls of color and dark, looping lines broke up the uniform surface coloring. By the way the light played over the designs, they appeared to be cut into the surface of the construct vice merely drawn upon it.

  The four structures of the Deltan “system” revolved slowly around the equator of the drive, rotating about their common polar axes so that no one side was tidally locked toward the star-like sphere of plasma. Whether this system was indeed gravitationally bound like a planetary or solar system, or whether there were other forces at play, Nathan would have to wait for the telemetry analysis, but he felt himself making his own assumptions about the system regardless.

  The drive seemed to be an enormously powerful and skilled manipulation of several forces, well beyond Earth’s own capability, but it did not feel magical or beyond all understanding. The drive was apparently controlled by the lobster-like ship, and produced a massive thrust in order to slowly accelerate its immense bulk from star system to star system. The other constructs were then dragged along behind, bound to it by gravity, electromagnetism, or some other force unknown to humanity. The constructs themselves inspired a number of different interpretations, none of which had any validity other than the feeling in Nathan’s gut.

  For the junk heap at L3, Nathan felt nothing. It was a non-entity, neither alluring nor threatening. For the ornate structures, gothic and organic at L5 and L4, Nathan felt a sense of wonder and enticement. They practically invited exploration as works of art and design—design along two completely different aesthetic frameworks. The whole system was alien, and every part of it seemed alien to every other part.

  Only the lobster-like control ship carried with it any negative connotation. It looked menacing, though not one element of it could be pointed out as threatening, and it did nothing but revolve about the drive, same as the others. Staring at it, though, he could not help but feel a sense of dread. Perhaps he attributed too much to it because of what happened to Gordon, but the plated vessel appeared to be vaguely threatening.

  The view devoted to the sub-probes came to life as one or another made a close flyby of each structure. More detail was seen of the individual vessels, but nothing indicated any life aboard. The vessels cruised on, dragged by the forces of the drive to an eventual rendezvous with the solar system, but they did so without change or response. They appeared to be either dead or asleep. Nathan wondered what the telemetry would show.

  Getting nowhere with the sub-probes, Promise would move to the next step. Lights came on around the probe—with flashing indicators above the auxiliary communication disk and the lidar transceiver, declaring its presence for all to see in case any potential viewers had missed it. He could not tell from the video, but he knew the probe would now begin transmitting to the four vessels, attempting to make contact.

  Nathan began to tap a rhythm on the desk—one, two … one, two, three … one through five … one through seven, and so on. It was the classic “first contact” transmission, the first thirty-three prime numbers, from 2 to 137, the inverse of physic’s fine structure constant. It was a decidedly nonrandom set that would communicate a variety of things to any potential extraterrestrial visitors. Namely, that humanity knew what a prime number was, and its significance, that we were a mathematical, reasoning species, and could thus be seen as potential peers to the advanced race dropping by for a visit. Whether or not this implied message would get across to these particular aliens, Nathan had no idea, but it always seemed to work in the movies.

  Promise would broadcast the prime transmission at a number of different frequencies and rates, from long wavelength radio, to microwaves, visible light, and ultraviolet, hoping to come across something the Deltans would notice. It would keep this up for 24 hours, repeating the sequence over and over again until some response was received. If a response came in, it would reply in kind and then broadcast the greeting message on the appropriate frequency, thus beginning the long process of forming a primer for common communication. If no response was received during that first 24 hours, Promise would release additional adjunct probes, this time attempting a physical touchdown and contact with one of the alien structures.

  Nathan tapped out the twelfth prime (37) when the Deltan system stopped revolving.

  He sat up straight in Gordon’s chair. There had been no other change in radiance or activity, but the four structures suddenly ceased their ponderous orbits a
bout the drive. They stood still, frozen in their positions, belying the necessities of orbital mechanics. Obviously, there were other forces involved than mere gravity and inertia. He wondered how it worked, how much sheer energy it must have taken to stop the motion of those enormous masses.

  Then, even more rapidly than they had come to a stop, the system spun in the reverse direction until the main, arthropod-like vessel was aligned closest to Promise, whereupon it stopped again. Nathan shook his head, in awe of this moment. He could hear his own heartbeat in his ear. Was this sudden activity what had led to Gordon’s attack?

  Promise would have noticed this change in motion and likely taken it as a response. The prime transmission would have ended and the welcome message would go out, a robotic probe acting as mankind’s first ambassador to the stars. In his head, Nathan heard the words in Gordon’s own voice, “Greetings to you, our unknown visitors from a nearby star. We welcome you to our solar system in the name of all the free inhabitants of Earth. Please allow this probe to exchange data with you in our stead, such that we might form some bridge for open and enlightening communication between our two species.” Whereupon, the probe would begin a math lesson, graduating from there to sounds, letters, and pictures, and from there to concepts and actual negotiations.

  Mankind had come far from the days of a golden record slapped onto a beeping probe. Not that it mattered in the least.

  Before Gordon’s message would even have had a chance to finish, the Deltan system responded. Threads of silvery light lanced out from each of the structures to the adjunct probes Promise had fired near them. Telemetry on the third screen turned to static. The silvery light flared about each mini-probe until they were all supplanted by spherical clouds of sparkling dust. The dust clouds then began to break up and stream toward the articulated plate hull of the be-shelled vessel.

  Each stream of dust was drawn up into the main ship through unseen vents, soon vanishing completely. Nathan let loose a ragged breath, unaware he had been holding it. Some of its capability and intent now revealed, the ship appeared even more menacing than it had before.

  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 the
m 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.”