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Dane stood on the balcony with Rijkard, surveying the vast bay. The men and women far below were working industriously, oblivious to the two men watching from the heights. No one had to tell these people about their jobs, they had trained for them all of their adult lives. As Dane watched, a Lightship was moved by antigravity field from its storage bay to a launching pad. The movement was swift and seamless, like the vessel itself. It moved from right to left past the two observers, then curved off into the distance where a fog clouded the far reaches of the rocky cavern.
“Are the crews trained?” Dane asked. “Each ship is fully manned and operational?” he said.
“Yes. They are prepared for battle,” said Rijkard.
“What about my Quantar commanders? Will they get to participate, or will your men do all the fighting?”
“It would be impossible for us to train your officers now, at this late date. But all of my men have sworn oaths to take up the Quantar flag. You can place a commander on each ship in the fleet, to report to you and follow your orders, if you wish. The pilots will take orders from the Quantar officers in your command. But for this battle your people will be far more observers than commanders.”
“Why do you say that?”
Rijkard pursed his lips. “You have a misguided idea of how this battle will be fought, Dane. The individual commanders will not be necessary because you will be controlling every ship in the fleet.”
“Me? How?”
“With your mind, by your own will.”
Dane shook his head. “I don’t understand.”
Rijkard tried to explain. “The flagship is coded to accept the DNA of only one man for a merging. Each ship in turn will be guided by you through a virtual link. You will be able to “see” every movement of every ship through the link. All ships in the fleet will be controlled by your thoughts, your strategy. The pilots will only be present in the unlikely event you are killed or the flagship is disabled.”
Dane felt a chill up his spine. “Rijkard, I trust you, seeing all that I have seen here and on Earth. But what you describe disturbs me greatly. I don’t know if I’m up to this... merging.”
Rijkard put one hand to Dane’s shoulder. “When you merge with the flagship, you control it, it does not control you. You are up to this, Dane, more than able. Your intuition must tell you this is right.”
Dane shook his head, puzzled. “But my intuition has never been identified as being special in any way. I was tested at the Academy for psionic gifts.”
Rijkard was unwavering. “You have grown into your gift, Dane. It’s obvious. The knot in your stomach is merely the sign of your maturity. Your intuitiveness is the key to being able to lead the Lightship fleet. Without it, you cannot do this. But the time has come for you to find out. We must take the flagship into space, and then you must fly her.”
Dane faced the older man square-on now, his doubts about his own abilities flushing to the surface. “And if I’m unable? If I don’t have this gift? If the Lightship rejects my DNA?”
Rijkard hesitated only a moment.
“Then you will die.”
***
DANE AND RIJKARD MOVED swiftly through the throngs of workers preparing the fleet, towards the Lightship Rijkard had called the flagship. Rijkard talked as they walked.
“Your DNA will be the code that allows you access to the command matrix. You must make this link to guide the fleet. If you can’t, if you don’t have the gift, the ship will ‘reject’ you. I am told the process is painless.”
“That’s a comfort,” said Dane, his voice quavering a bit. Rijkard acknowledged Dane’s fear with a nod, then continued.
“Once coded, any attempt by someone other than you to access the command matrix and enable the fleet will result in death to that person. The code, I am told by our scientists, can never be changed or updated. It was built in to be used by only one man. If that man isn’t you, then when you die the Lightships will be disabled forever.”
Dane said, “But if the scientists can discern the method of coding, and that it is coded for only one person, can’t they test the code and compare it to my DNA? Then we would know for certain if I’m the one to lead the fleet. And if they could determine that, why couldn’t they reconfigure the DNA code to accept another?”
Rijkard shook his head. “There is much that even today we don’t fully understand. Much of what you see here, this technology, was inherited by us, left by previous generations, from First Empire times. As near as we can determine, the vessel contains living matter, bio-organic material, like cells of a body. You will bring it to life, with your DNA. You will function as the brain, giving instruction to the many parts of the body. The Lightships will respond to your will, your thoughts, your desires. Without you, the body dies. The Lightships will cease to function,” said Rijkard.
Dane resigned himself to the fate of the situation, his pace slowing slightly. “All of this isn’t much comfort,” he said again.
Rijkard stopped Dane with a hand. “There is no easy way in all of this, Dane. You have to choose if this is what you want.”
“What I want?” Dane shook his head and then looked up to the towering mass of the Lightship looming over him. “This is far beyond what I want.” He put his hands to his hips. “So how do we begin?” he said.
“A shuttle will tow the Lightship up into space, then release it to your control. If you can fly the vessel, then we will know all is truly in place.”
“Rijkard,” Dane’s face looked as if the blood had gone from it. “What if this doesn’t work? What if I’m killed?”
The older man looked at him with true compassion. He spoke softly. “Dane, I cannot do this for you. You are frightened of dying. Almost every sensible man is.”
Dane looked at the older man, for the first time seeing him as he once saw his father, as a man whom he trusted implicitly. A man who had already saved his life. He weighed the risks, and chose.
“We’re wasting time,” he said. They began walking rapidly again.
***
ONBOARD THE LIGHTSHIP, Rijkard glanced at the display nearest him. “We are almost to the release point,” he said. The command module of the vessel, attached as it was to the very pinnacle of the ship, was just big enough for the two men and their acceleration couches. Rijkard had referred to it as ‘the chapel’. It was obviously designed for a single user to be the primary occupant, with sparse room for a backup of any kind.
Dane studied the lines in Rijkard’s face, saw the concern etched there despite his brave words. Then a realization hit him. “Rijkard,” he said quietly. Rijkard distracted himself with adjusting dials and examining computer settings.
“Yes?”
“You said that if I fail, the Lightship will be permanently disabled. You will die with me.”
The older man only nodded. “That is what I have chosen. The tug will be out of range, and I frankly do not know what will happen to the ship. It may drift, out of power, and crash to the surface, or it may shut down life support. I don’t know how long I could survive.”
Rijkard turned to look at his young companion. Dane saw true compassion in his eyes. “And I decided on the day I first saw you that if you were not the one, then I had no more wish to go on living. I have given orders that there is to be no rescue mission.”
“I understand,” said Dane. The two were quiet for a short time. Then the tug severed the field between them and broke off, moving left on the screen and out of sight.
“We are alone now,” said Rijkard.
Dane merely nodded in reply, then stood silently. The blank gray luminescent material of the merge link occupied the center to the control panel. Dane stepped over from the co-pilot’s seat and stood over the merging panel. Rijkard assisted Dane as he attached a soft black headband with a liquid crystal display built in, then lowered it to cover Dane’s eyes, like goggles. “This will assist you to see the link,” said Rijkard.
Dane adjusted the goggles to fit more comfortably, then took in a deep breath. “I’m ready,” he said.
“Extend your hands to the console. Touch it lightly with your finger tips to activate it, then proceed when you are ready.”
Dane extended his hands, adrenaline pumping through him, but no sign of the knot in his stomach, no warning. The console was warm, like bathwater, to his fingertip touch. Dane was reminded of the texture of soft clay, which he and his mother had used to build small pottery when he was a child. Dane decided if that was to be his last remembrance, then he would die at peace.
“I’m ready to proceed,” he said.
“May God be with you,” said Rijkard quietly.
“May God be with us all.”
Without another word Dane pushed his hands into the console, not knowing if he would find his destiny, or oblivion.
A maze of colors swam through his optic sense, confusing, and yes, frightening him. Slowly the colors began blending into geometric wireframe, outlines of shapes yet discerned. Then began a process of repainting, each time the images becoming more solid. In what seemed like a few minutes, Dane was able to visualize all of the ship’s systems and its full functions became accessible to him. He had merely to reach out and “touch” any portion with his mind, and it would do his will. This he knew by instinct. Dane activated a monitor, and was able to see a picture of himself, hands and forearms fully imbedded in the console. Rijkard sat in the pilot’s chair, concern etched on his face. Dane felt compassion for his companion, and broke his exploration long enough to speak. “All is well my friend. Prophesy or not, I am in control of this vessel.”
Rijkard let out a deep breath, then sat back in his chair. Dane’s own ‘voice’ seemed strange and distant to him, and he noted that his lips did not move as he visualized himself in the monitor. The voice he ‘heard’ was emanating from the ship itself.
“I’m exploring all functional systems of the Lightship. Firing the engines now,” Dane didn’t know how he knew what he knew, but his intuition told him what every system was for, and how to operate it. Within a few moments he had gained access to the main computer, and began receiving telemetry from it on the Lightship’s operations.
Dane looked on at his friend inside the chapel. Rijkard seemed aware of the momentum of acceleration, and the powerful hum of the main engines going on line.
“I’ll take us to 3,000 kilometers per second,” said Dane’s voice through the intercom, relaying information to his friend, more for Rijkard’s comfort than for his own need to communicate. He realized he would be perfectly happy, and less distracted, operating the ship alone.
Dane called up the Lightship’s tactical display. The weapons computer locked onto the departing shuttle as the only nearby target. Dane probed further, quickly gaining confidence that the Lightship could take out the shuttle even at their greatly diverging distances. The type of weapons the ship had was not revealed, only targeting and distance telemetry.
Astrogation was also operational, displaying positions of nearby bodies, with travel times to get to each from their current position. A stellar cartography display contained the same data for nearby and distant stars.
Dane found a virtual link to the vessels on Luna, and found he had the ability to activate them in their bays. He did so instinctively, knowing that their crews would need time to get used to the powerful vessels.
He performed a host of other checks and operations, ran algorithms and diagnostics, all within seconds. Then he set course for the nearest world, Mars, and engaged the engines fully.
Inside the cabin, mere moments had passed for Rijkard. The young man who had been his charge only weeks before was now fully enveloped by the vessel he commanded. Rijkard looked at him with a mix of awe and pity. Awe that he was the promised one, and God had blessed the Sanctuary leader with his presence. And pity for the great sacrifices he knew to be ahead for the boy. Boy, he thought. It is how I have thought of him from the beginning. Whatever he is now and is becoming, he is no boy. He felt the acceleration of the vessel, the hum of the engines in operation, it’s complex and mysterious fields of energy pulsating as they passed at increasingly blinding speeds through space, so much so that Rijkard stopped bothering to watch the monitor. At these speeds, it simply became irrelevant.
“My god! Rijkard!” Dane’s voice was excited, even if it was dampened by mechanistic tones of the intercom. “I don’t believe there’s any upward limit to this vessel’s speed! I can see, if you can call it that, interstellar pathways, conduits to nearby stars! It’s as if the ship grows stronger as we go!”
“Do you find you can operate the Lightship with relative ease?” asked Rijkard.
“Relative ease, yes.”
Abruptly ending the conversation, Dane put the ship through a series of banking maneuvers, pushing the limits of the gothic spire, finding none. Just as abruptly the ship slowed, then ebbed to almost drifting. Dane pulled his hands from the console and removed the goggles to speak directly to his mentor.
“I’ve automated a whole range of operations, limiting myself to tactical concerns. I want to give the ship a good shakedown yet. I’ve sent signal to the Lightships back in the cavern. They are powering up via an automated sequence. I’ve also sent orders to the Quantar forces to man their transports for Luna. We’ll fight the battle from there. All unit commanders should be at the base by the time we arrive back. And I’ve given notice for the Sanctuary troops and local civilians to ride out the battle in the Cathedral. I think they will be safest there. I hope you are not offended?”
“Offended?” Rijkard’s face was a mix of emotions. “No. This is the day I have waited for my whole life, to pass on that which has been entrusted to me.”
Dane bowed his head slightly in humility. “I am the one, then.”
Rijkard merely nodded ascent. “You are the one.”