Doomsday minus 357 Earth days.
The past twelve intervals had elapsed on Daisy Hub without any major incidents. Everyone was back on speaking terms. The Nandrian field generator (with its new alarm system) had been up and running reasonably smoothly for ten intervals. Meanwhile, Gouryas and Singh’s efforts to control the invisibility cloak without setting off the aforementioned alarm were still ongoing.
Once Teri’s costumes had been repaired, she and Drew had begun planning and producing shows on K Deck for the crews of Daisy Hub and Zulu every couple of intervals, conscripting as many crew members as possible to work on each one. The Doc had been devoting her time to studying the stasis fluid provided by the Nandrian high speaker. Ajda Gray and Lucas Soaring Hawk had been experimenting with creating explosives out of organic material (with mixed results and minimal damage so far). Ruby had taught herself how to fly Odysseus’s ship and had begun taking it out for practice rides. Lu had thrown himself head first into honing the martial arts skills of his crewmates. And O’Malley…?
Townsend found out what O’Malley had been up to when the ratkeeper burst out of a tube car on AdComm and rushed excitedly to where he was sitting.
“Boss! I did it!” He reached into his pockets and began spilling handfuls of datawafers onto the desktop. “These are messages from family members of everyone on the crew.”
Momentarily stunned, Drew stared at the growing pile in front of him. “Everyone? Holchuk and Lydia too?”
“Yep. Some of the deceased relatives were actually dead, but I kept digging and found live ones, all over Earth space. There’s no word from Madeline Holchuk or Walt Garfield yet. But Lydia has a sister on one of the colonies, and I found Holchuk’s father, retired and living on Vegas Hub.” He plucked a wafer from another, separate pocket and held it out. “This one’s for you.”
Townsend eyed it warily. “My sister?”
“Your parents. They’re on Schweitzer Hub in Sector Three. Permission to hand out the rest of these?”
Drew accepted the wafer and nodded, not trusting his voice.
O’Malley stuffed the datawafers back into his pockets and returned to the tube car, declaring with satisfaction over his shoulder, “And the Daisy Hub Resistance is in business!”
—— «» ——
Caroline Townsend’s voice on the playback sounded as though she was choking back tears. “Drew, I can’t begin to tell you how thrilled your father and I are to know that you’re alive and safe on Daisy Hub! Even though we weren’t able to stay in contact with you, we’ve never stopped thinking about you, son, never stopped loving and missing you. Losing your sister in space was devastating for us, but we were comforted by the knowledge that you, at least, were being cared for back on Earth. I’ll admit, when we heard about the recent events there, we worried that you might have been caught up in the rioting and injured, or even killed. Then your message arrived, and it was such a relief! Please reply soon. We have a lot of catching up to do. We want to know how you are, and everything that you’ve been doing. We love you, Drew, and we want to be part of your life from now on.”
Unexpectedly, Townsend found himself swallowing tears of his own. Cut off from Earth and knowing that his fate was sealed, he had resolved himself to being among the first casualties of the Corvou attack. Now his resolve was fading. And if the rest of his crew were listening to messages similar to this one from his mother, then they all had to be having second thoughts as well.
In retrospect, it was clear to Drew that his plan had backfired. He had wanted to give these people he cared about a chance to say goodbye to their loved ones before they died. Instead, the Daisy Hub Resistance had probably given them the strongest possible motivation to survive. And Caroline’s message had just given him another idea.
“A news feed?” O’Malley said slowly when they met up later that day on AdComm. “You do realize that all the news feeds on Earth originate with the Data Management Department’s media server?”
“You already have a pipeline to Earth’s database,” Townsend pointed out. “How much different can this be?”
“Very. The database server receives and stores information. There are times when it’s down, and I can reach through those windows and plant or copy files. The media server is a pass-through with multiple filters, constantly running and constantly disseminating information. I might be able to plant a story upstream of the server, but pulling unfiltered news out of it is a whole other challenge.”
Struck by a sudden thought, Drew asked, “Does anyone on Earth receive unfiltered information?”
A light went on behind the ratkeeper’s eyes. “Somebody must. I’ll find out.”
“Chief, you’re not going to believe this,” caroled Ruby’s voice from the other side of AdComm.
“Try me.”
“The Rangers just challenged an alien vessel crossing into Earth space. According to Zulu’s scanners, it was transmitting a Nandrian identification code.”
“A warship?”
“Nope. It’s a freighter, fully loaded. Its captain — not a Nandrian, by the way — claims to be bound for Earth with a cargo of ships to assist with the evacuation effort. The Rangers have locked weapons onto it, and they’ve ordered it to report here for routine cargo inspection before clearance can be given to proceed. They must think it’s a Trojan cow.”
“Horse,” he corrected her. “It was a Trojan horse.”
“If you say so, Chief,” she replied, deadpan. “But it’s not a horse that jumps over the moon in that old nursery rhyme.”
“You know, Noris said there would be other races helping us. Maybe that’s what this is all about.”
Ruby’s eyes were sparkling with mischief. “It gets better. That ship is supposedly carrying a very important passenger, traveling incognito, and she’s already made a couple of special requests.”
Townsend scowled at her. “Let me guess. The first is that she was never here.”
“Yep. And the second has to do with one of the ships on the freighter. Apparently, it’s a privately-owned vessel hitching a ride, not part of the cargo. She is asking if we would mind storing it on our landing deck until she returns from her errand on Earth.” Ruby swiveled away from her console. “Odysseus’s ship is parked there,” she reminded him, “in plain sight. And if the privately-owned craft is of Nandrian design, and Odysseus comes back and sees it…”
That would be a problem. The little alien had gone out of his mind with fear earlier, when he believed Nandrians might find out he was on the station.
“All right,” Drew decided. “Let’s take things step by step and not leap to any conclusions. First, the freighter has to dock and pass inspection. Then I’ll have a chat with this VIP and decide how to proceed.”
—— «» ——
Doomsday minus 355 Earth days.
“It’s called a Night Cloud.”
The deep, pleasant voice drifted over Townsend’s shoulder as he was walking a circle around the medium-sized alien ship that he had cleared to enter Daisy Hub’s landing deck just one hour earlier. The name was apt. Streamlined, with a tapered nose and backswept wings, it had to be equipped with some sort of stealth technology. No matter how close he stood to it or how hard he squinted, its outline remained blurred, as though if he looked away and back it might have drifted, cloudlike, into another shape.
“It’s a beautiful vessel,” Drew replied, turning around. “Are you the owner?”
A tall alien with dark skin and almost feline features was standing about two meters away, wearing a shiny one-piece garment that bagged generously around the lower part of its body. It wasn’t as immediately intimidating as a Nandrian. Still, there was something about this being’s eyes that put Townsend on alert.
Belatedly, he reminded himself: This was a first contact situation. Care would have to be taken.
“I am,” said the alien. “Are you the one who gave permission for it to stay here?”
Actually, Drew had been talked into it by Yorell Enne, the very determined female who had met him when he boarded the freighter (another first contact situation — they seemed to be coming thick and fast lately), but there was little point in mentioning that now.
“I am. Drew Townsend, originally of Earth. I’m the station manager.”
“And I am Gorse Pirrit, originally of Eggenar. I’m glad you admire my ship. I helped to design it.”
“You called it a Night Cloud. Is it a fighter?”
“When it needs to be. At the moment, it’s our home.”
“You’re not alone, then?”
“My mate travels with me.”
The word “mate” had two possible meanings, and alien genders could be a minefield. Townsend chose his next words carefully. “May I meet your mate? Is this individual inside the ship?”
Pirrit stared across the deck. “She’s over there.”
Following his gaze, Drew saw a second, slightly smaller alien standing near the field generator. His first impression was that her head was surrounded by flame. Then he looked again and realized that the fiery halo was just a mass of upcombed red hair. Or was it fur?
“Is she from Eggenar too?” he asked.
Pirrit hesitated briefly, then replied, “No. Ixbeth is from Kula’as.”
“She’s Kularian,” Drew repeated, with effort keeping his voice casual. Like the brotherhood?
“You have nothing to fear, Drew Townsend, from me or my mate,” Pirrit assured him.
He frowned. “What makes you think I’m afraid?”
“Apologies. You must be concerned, then, or worried. Ixbeth is so much better at discriminating among Human emotions than I am.”
Ixbeth. Where had he heard that name before? Then it clicked into place in his mind. Ixbeth Minegar. The alien described earlier by Dr. Deneuve as belonging to a race of empaths.
“Wait a minute. Kularians are empathic as well as telepathic?”
Ixbeth trotted over to join them.
“Your thoughts are safe, Mr. Townsend,” she said. “Kularians are telepathic only with other Kularians, and even then, we require a special bond, with a twin or a mate.”
“But the brotherhood—” he began.
“They’re a special case,” Pirrit interrupted. “It’s one of the reasons they’ve chosen to isolate themselves.” He looked about to say something more, but suddenly paused. Then, to Townsend’s growing bewilderment, Pirrit bounded across the deck and placed both his hands, fingers splayed, on the top of the field generator.
“He’s sensing what I’ve been sensing,” Ixbeth explained. “That device is not functioning properly. It’s very close to failing.”
They were clairvoyant too? Perfect.
“And how do you know that, exactly?” Townsend inquired.
“There is a lack of harmony,” Pirrit replied, rejoining the conversation. “Harmony equals perfection — that is one of our basic engineering principles. If you would permit me to explain?”
“Please do,” said Drew, intrigued.
“You called my ship beautiful, so you understand visual harmony. Would you agree that harmony is something that can be experienced by every other sense as well?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Different races have different senses, depending on how their neural networks are constructed. Ixbeth and I have a sense that enables us to experience the harmony or disharmony that exists in technology.”
“And you’re detecting disharmony from my field generator? I don’t suppose you happen to have a spare device sitting in the hold of your ship?”
It was the first con he’d learned from Tommy Novotny: Musical Units. Easy credits, low risk. Most marks never even twigged to the fact that their perfectly good item had been replaced with one taken from a previous mark. Just one little snag in this case — the aliens were right. The field generator in question hadn’t been working properly for some time.
“Regrettably, we don’t,” said Pirrit. “But I am an engineer with some familiarity with this sort of technology. If I can make it work smoothly again, would you consider accepting that as payment for storing my Night Cloud?”
Townsend weighed the odds. It was a gamble, but what wasn’t, these days? Truth be told, it had never even occurred to him to charge a tie-down fee. However, now that the alien had brought up the subject…
“Yes, on two conditions. First, my engineers have been struggling to figure out this generator ever since it was installed. I want you to teach them how to repair and maintain it. And second, if you’re able, I’d like you to show them how it’s supposed to work. We have a hand-held device that we know is part of it—”
“You have a controller?”
“That’s been the theory, but they haven’t been able to prove it. And we really need a fully functioning field generator, now that Daisy Hub is about to become a battlefield.”
Pirrit tilted his head. “You plan to engage the Corvou at these coordinates?”
“We have to try.”
The two aliens locked eyes meaningfully for several heartbeats.
“Then you’ll be seeing us again,” said Pirrit, “when the Eggenali fleet arrives to support your efforts. Eggenar is a shipbuilding world, and Night Cloud technology makes for extremely effective fighting vessels. When the time comes, I expect we’ll be bringing you a number of them.”
Townsend felt as though the gravity field had stuttered, momentarily dropping the deck from beneath his feet. “How—? Who—?”
“We’ll convey your deepest gratitude to the governing panel on Eggenar,” Ixbeth assured him.
“Meanwhile,” said Pirrit, “if you’ll instruct your engineers to meet me here with their toolkits, we can set to work immediately.”
—— «» ——
Doomsday minus 351 Earth days.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we have a small craft on approach for the landing deck, ETA in approximately one hour. Please stop what you’re doing, batten down anything that might float away, stow what you can, pick up the rest, and get yourselves the hell out of there, now!”
Hearing Ruby’s voice over the comm speaker galvanized the beings gathered around the field generator into action. Forty standard minutes later, they had resealed its casing and vacated the premises.
Ten standard minutes after that, the doors to space opened and a familiar, insect-shaped vessel glided through them and touched down in the last remaining parking spot on the deck.
The stolen Corvou fighter had returned from its mission in alien space.
Once the atmosphere had normalized, Karlov and Odysseus tumbled out of the hatch to be met by a stern-faced Ranger captain, a worried-looking station manager, and a visibly relieved doctor.
“Well?” demanded Rodrigues. “What do you have to say for yourselves?”
Karlov’s eyes sought out Townsend’s face. “We found four bases besides the one Odysseus visited before. At least a thousand ships on each one. But the Corvou home world is gone.”
“You mean it’s been destroyed?” said Rodrigues.
“Not destroyed. Disappeared. Odysseus took us to the coordinates, but there was nothing there but empty space.”
“That’s impossible,” declared the Doc.
“Not impossible, friend-Human.” The voice of Odysseus’s translation device made everything sound like a proclamation. “The Kularian ship-machine folds space. Coravon system is inside a pocket, like the Thryggian system.”
“Noris’s message,” said Townsend, comprehension suddenly dawning. “He told Lania Dedrick that the Kularian brotherhood was already helping us. This must be what he meant.”
The Ranger’s frustration was almost palpable. “But why wait until thousands of their ships have already been sent off-world to be fitted with weapons?”
“To keep the Great Council unaware.” Pirrit had approached the group unnoticed. As all eyes turned toward him, he stepped forward and explained, “Noris knew they would be monitoring the situation on Coravon. We need them to think that the Humans have no allies, and therefore no chance of winning this war.”
Townsend gave him a look. “And by ‘we’, you mean…?”
“All the races who are going to stand with you and help you to defeat the Corvou. As you found out at first hand when the Melkarit docked here, Yorell Enne is a very persuasive individual. She has put herself on a mission to rally as many worlds as possible to your defense. Eggenar was only the first planet she visited. By the time the enemy arrives, there will have been others.”
There will be others. Those were also Noris’s words to Lania Dedrick, a promise Drew had discounted after hearing Takamura describe the brotherhood. Noris was apparently continuing to act on his own alien agenda, but his prediction was turning out to be uncannily prescient. The Nandrians, the Eggenali, the Mitradeans, the Stragori, were all stepping up to help. And according to Pirrit, that was just the beginning.
Townsend felt hope swelling inside him.
This might be the universe in which he got to see his parents again after all.
—— «» ——
Doomsday minus 343 Earth days.
FROM: Rhys Amis, Supreme Adjudicator for Greater Europe
TO: Patricia Chen, Chair, Earth High Council
EARTH DATE: 9 October 2401
SECURITY STATUS: Classified top secret
Regarding the address given this morning in the High Council chambers by Yorell Enne, Prime Docent of the Galactic Central Archives:
The interest being taken by such a high official of the alien government in the continuing survival of the Human species is heartwarming, to say the least. And the thirty-odd small and medium-sized ships that she has brought us to assist with the evacuation will of course be much appreciated and put to good use. However, I can see a disturbing trend beginning here, in that the source of the ships is “offering” to accept up to 100,000 Human refugees for resettlement on the alien world of Eggenar. First the Stragori, then the Eggenali. Enne claims there are no strings attached to this offer, but we’ve all heard that line before, and possession is nine points of the law. If this alien makes good on her promise to recruit other worlds to help us in similar ways, then we’ll have to weigh very carefully what the price might be to get our citizens back once the crisis is over.
I’m not saying we should refuse their help. We still need to save as many Human lives as possible. But I don’t think it’s in Earth’s best interests to send our top people to live in alien space, knowing that they might never return.
~
FROM: Patricia Chen, Chair, Earth High Council
TO: Rhys Amis, Supreme Adjudicator for Greater Europe
EARTH DATE: 10 October 2401
SECURITY STATUS: Classified top secret
I’m way ahead of you. I’ve commissioned a study on the current/future habitability of the twenty-four Earth colonies that were wiped out by Angel of Death, to see whether we can safely recolonize them. I am expecting a report very soon and will send you a copy for comment.
—— «» ——
Doomsday minus 323 Earth days.
“We’re ready to give a demo, and you’re going to love what we can do now,” Gouryas declared jubilantly over the comm.
A couple of hours later, the viewscreens on AdComm were showing the exterior of Daisy Hub, and Gouryas and Singh were standing at the main console on C Deck, waiting for the assembled crew members to settle down.
Townsend turned and saw Pirrit standing near the tube car door. The alien’s expression was difficult to read. He was either critically assessing the final test of his students’ understanding or proudly watching them demonstrate their skills. Or perhaps both.
“First, we want to say thank you to Gorse Pirrit. Before he came to the station, we’d been struggling for an inordinately long time to figure out the workings of the Nandrian field generator,” Gouryas began.
“An insanely long time,” Singh agreed emphatically.
Shooting him a sharp look, Gouryas continued a little more loudly, “Over the last couple of intervals, he has taught us a great deal. We can now not only maintain and operate the field generator, but also make full use of its features and capabilities. Most importantly, we can do it without setting off any alarms.”
Laughing, people sent appreciative waves and glances in the direction of the Eggenali. He appeared pleased to receive them.
“The field generator does a lot more than we originally thought,” Singh broke in. “That’s what’s so exciting about it.”
“Can you control the invisibility field?” Hagman piped up.
“Completely,” Gouryas assured him. “Just watch.”
For the next sixteen minutes, a dozen Humans observed in rapt silence as he made the station disappear, then brought back the north and south ends of it separately, and finally projected the field onto the nearest comm relay satellite, making it seem to fade away and then back.
The room erupted with excited voices.
“Can you make Zulu go away?”
“How are you doing that?”
“Can anyone operate the device?”
“How far can you expand the field?”
“What about the sensor field?”
“What about the molecular paintbrush?”
“What about—?”
Now wearing broad matching smiles, Gouryas and Singh exchanged proud glances.
“We’ll answer all your questions, one at a time,” said Singh. “But would you like to see what else the generator can do?”
“It plays with light,” Gouryas explained. “So, it can make the station look larger or smaller than it actually is.”
Before all their eyes, the Hub tripled in size, then shrank to a fraction of its original self.
Townsend sat with his gaze riveted to the screen, strategic possibilities running rampant through his mind, while the engineers proceeded to change the shape and color of the station as well.
“Now for the greatest trick of all,” Singh announced.
On the screen, the middle section of the Hub appeared to explode in a fireball.
Townsend gasped and leaned forward in his chair. “We can fake the destruction of the station?” he demanded.
“We can create a whole range of special visual effects. It’s all a matter of programming,” Gouryas told him.
Jason Smith got to his feet to ask, “What about the generator on Zulu? Can it be programmed the same way?”
A pause, then, “Theoretically, yes, but the two units are not identical, so it’s not something I feel confident about attempting at this time,” said Singh.
“Then, can our invisibility shield be expanded to include Zulu?” Smith persisted. He clearly had a strategy in mind. Townsend made a mental note to confer with him later.
“Not at our current distance from each other,” Gouryas explained. “Light normally travels in straight lines. However, if Zulu and the Hub were close enough together in our shared orbit and we were able to generate sufficient power to maintain such a large shield, it might be doable.”
Earlier, Drew had asked these engineers for “some damned impressive defenses”. Today, thanks to Gorse Pirrit, they’d delivered, giving everyone on the Hub reason to hope, including himself. They could do this. They could save Humanity. Maybe they could even save themselves.