Usurper of the Sun Read online

  She sensed one thing for sure. The Builders were not lacking for backup plans. When the lasers from their deceleration system had not arrived, the Builders had put their mission ahead of their lives and resorted to nuclear-pulse propulsion to slow themselves. A new group of lights appeared in the southwestern horizon.

  “Look, there in the sky! Our ships are about to do a flyby.”

  Aki watched the exhibition play out with its incredible precision. Four hundred kilometers above the earth, the UNSDF battleships were aligned in a parking orbit alongside their support ships. Aki counted seventeen lights in all. She wondered if the demonstration was planned for this moment because the ships were visible from North America. As lost in the spectacle as anyone else at the stadium, Aki snapped back to reality when somebody grabbed her arm.

  “I’ve been looking for you!” It was Collins, her bodyguard. “What were you thinking, alone in a crowd of this size?”

  “Sorry, Collins.” Aki followed his lead as he escorted her out. Looking up to the night sky again, she got into the car that had been waiting for her.

  ACT XI: NOVEMBER 23, 2037

  THE DECOR IN the Strategic Air Command Director’s office was modest. In one corner sat an antique Rand McNally globe encased in glass. The brightly colored globe was the only object in the room that caught Aki’s attention. In contrast, the northern exposure offered a breathtaking view of the main hall below. Standing at the window, Aki realized that the hall was large enough to house two large tanker ships. UNSDF Fleet Headquarters was, in essence, a self-sufficient underground city. The threat of an attack by the Soviet Union during the Cold War paled in comparison to the potentially catastrophic severity of the current situation. Even if Earth underwent an attack by kinetic energy weapons or nanomachines that stripped away the planet’s atmosphere, this facility was prepared to endure the attack and sustain five hundred people for up to two years. For a moment, Aki wondered whether the five hundred would try to rebuild or exact revenge, but she quickly realized the answer.

  Even though it was highly automated, the interplanetary nuclearpowered battleships housed here still needed at least sixty specialists, including relief personnel, to keep them running properly. The UNSDF faced substantial logistical challenges in operating and coordinating the actions of its nine battleships simultaneously. The weapons on each of the battleships were essentially spacecraft unto themselves.

  In addition to the Battleship Group, there was also the Tactical Situation Group, which collected and processed data from the twenty-seven terrestrial and eighteen orbital observation stations. Together, those observation stations monitored the Builders’ ship, Mercury, Venus, various parts of the Vert-Ring, and the area of the inner solar system. Their monitoring processes were managed by computers working in sync with forty human beings to sift through the exabytes of data that poured in.

  The interception point with the Builders’ ship was estimated at what, by now, seemed like a short distance, a mere twenty light minutes from Earth. That interception point was on the opposite side of the sun, meaning that there would be a significant time lag in communications with Earth. Since the battle might need precision down to the millisecond, all major decisions would need to be made by tactical computer systems integrated directly into the weapons.

  This went contrary to the prevailing desire to decide the actions months, if not years, in advance. The battles of this form of space warfare were better suited for long-term strategic planning because it could take months or years for the targets to be within range. Given the high speed of their target, decisions would need to be made almost instantaneously once the target came into range. Besides the time lag, any person or processor calling the shots would face the hazard of metadata inundation. According to the simulations, there could be up to several petabytes of data flowing in at once. Each byte of data needed to be sorted and distributed to the proper team, who would then decide what responses might need to be implemented. The decisions were prioritized and transmitted to the fleet via wide-spectrum laser, high-frequency wave, and microwave lines simultaneously. The fleet would then respond to whichever incarnation of the command signals arrived first.

  Before being seen by the crew, however, these commands were first reviewed, evaluated, and compiled by onboard computers that filtered out commands that had already been executed or had become irrelevant based on real-time changes to the situation. Finally, any commands still left unexecuted and also still applicable were then organized and sent to the crew for interpretation or implementation.

  “What an amazing facility,” Aki said, trying to show more than the minimal interest she felt. She respected how carefully the operational systems had been designed to process chaos and complexity, but could not help but notice that the strategic planning was all geared toward defense, not communication.

  Director Robbins looked like he had not expected her to speak. He stared at Aki and weighed her comment carefully. “You must hate me,” he said.

  “I apologize for turning down your invitation to the ceremony. It was childish of me not to accept.”

  “It’s fine. I worried what might happen if you gave a speech in your current state.”

  He placed two porcelain pedestal cups on a tray and poured coffee from a thermos.

  “I’m a bit sad to know this entire facility will have no use within a few years. Having served in the Strategic Air Command for as long as I have, this kind of extravagant spending doesn’t faze me anymore. When we first scrapped the entire North African radar network, it bothered me to consider how many starving children we could’ve saved with the wasted money. At the end of the day, I accepted that we needed to do what was in the long-term best interest of the whole of humanity.”

  Aki looked at her cup while sipping her coffee. It was a handpainted Nippon cup. It depicted a scene of a country farmhouse.

  “It’s true that you saved the earth, Aki. In my book though, Mark Ridley is just as much the hero as you are. He was navy, right?”

  “He is a hero in my book as well.”

  “Then you understand when I say that I don’t want his sacrifice to be in vain.”

  Aki looked up from the porcelain cup.

  “I’ve gotten your attention. Let’s get down to business. We cannot accommodate your request to allocate three of our ships for the Contact Phase.”

  He motioned for her to sit in the chair facing his desk, then pulled an envelope from the top drawer of his desk.

  “There will be a single contact ship—the Phalanx. You will be in charge of that ship. You are the only one for the job.”

  Aki tore the envelope open. It contained military orders requesting her to report for duty as commander of the UNSS Phalanx.

  “Oh, and don’t think that we’re going to send you up in that bucket of bolts the way she was before. We’re doing major modifications, bringing her up to date, even adding an atomic second stage. Only the Phalanx will be capable of rendezvousing with the Builders’ craft. I’m taking a lot of flak from my superiors for making this decision.”

  The Phalanx alone would meet the Builders’ ship and attempt to make contact. The other eight craft would be in position for interception. For the plan to succeed, the fastest ship needed to be her contact ship. The other eight ships needed payload capacity more than they needed speed.

  “Your contact ship will be weaponless. As you can guess, it’ll have a high risk of being destroyed. You accept the position?”

  “Without hesitation.”

  “Excellent. Congratulations, even though there wasn’t any doubt. You’ll have a crew of five. A team of three—the Contact Team—will attempt to board the alien vessel. You, of course, must be one of them. The second will be a Marine guard for protection; you may select the guard, or we can assign one. The third should be another science expert, one with an engineering background. I would like you to decide who that one will be too. There is no need for an application process or approval by committee. This is
a military mission: make your selection and it will be done.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  WHILE RIDING AWAY in yet another black limousine, Aki wondered what qualities to look for in the other two members of the Contact Team. She imagined that there were millions of people who would do anything for the chance to speak with the Builders. She thought of several dozen people she knew fairly well who had the drive and skill sets required to be part of the mission. Of them, there were only two whom she would want to have at her side at this incredible moment of truth. Of those two, only one of them was still alive.

  Selecting him would cause talk, but this is too important for chatter to be relevant. I should ask him right now. She decided to ask him over the phone since calling him to her office by official request struck her as pretentious.

  “Hi, Raul,” she said. “I wanted to thank you for your help the other day and your encouragement. I hope you’re glad to hear from me again.”

  “Maybe I am, maybe I’m not,” said Raul. “Every time we talk, you give me something hard to do, crazy lady.”

  “I bet I can change that maybe to a definitely.”

  “Oh, yeah? How?” His enthusiastic reply was what she had hoped for.

  “I want to invite you to come on a little mission with me, on my new ship.”

  “Your new ship?”

  “Yeah, I just got one. I am the commander of the fastest nuclearpowered space vessel in the solar system. Interested?”

  The line was silent for a long time, but she knew he had not hung up.

  CHAPTER 3: CONTACT

  ACT I: MARCH 4, 2041

  “WE HAVE IGNITION, ladies and gentlemen. Nine nuclear battleships are on their way! In the lead is the UNSS Phalanx, the contact ship commanded by Aki Shiraishi. The UNSS Rutherford and Chadwick are now leaving orbit. Let’s go to a live image from Christmas Island. It’s 5:15 in the morning there, so we would appreciate it if everyone remained quiet.”

  The laughter faded and was replaced by gasps of awe as thin bright streaks trailed across the horizon behind the three specks of light. The streams grew as halos formed around the glowing engine blasts. As the fiery spheres dipped below the horizon, the networks cut to following each of the three ships separately; around the world people could choose which feed to follow. The networks also broadcast speeches from various heads of state, followed by the Pope and other religious leaders, a number of celebrities, luminaries in astronomical studies, and Nobel laureates.

  The media coverage and the quality of their images was a far cry from the fuzzy, monochrome video of the first moon landing that had been broadcast seventy years earlier. The live shots of the UNSDF battleships launching were shown from every imaginable vantage point. The images underscored the advancements that had been made in space technology and also in broadcast technology. The primary video was circumscribed by a number of constantly changing thumbnail images. The secondary images included still and video shots from dozens of sites on Earth and from various altitudes in orbit, as well as live feeds from the surfaces and orbits of the moon, Mercury, Venus, and Mars. Unless the viewer intervened by making a specific selection, the primary image feed was chosen by the content provider to best fit the audio. A Worldunity viewer could select from eight hundred different commentators speaking in any of a hundred languages or watch the channel that ranked the talking heads by their real-time popularity.

  From her cocoon, Aki watched the sensor readouts during the fully automated launch sequence. Intermittently, she glanced at another monitor that showed the broadcasts from Earth. She switched her secondary monitor from a speech by the young Dalai Lama to a concert at Carnegie Hall. The conductor was leading the orchestra in a rendition of the Star Wars theme. Aki chuckled at the jingoistic irony.

  Raul was watching the same channel and chimed in. “The doubters are rocking their victory song.”

  “Check out the Vienna feed. They’re playing Beethoven’s Eroica. Maybe that’s more your speed?” suggested Aida Northgate, the ship’s systems engineer. She was always upbeat; Aida reminded Raul of a pixie, he had told Aki. Aki was pleased that the two of them got along well. Through Aki’s recent tumults, she had forgotten how powerful her intuition could be.

  “Don’t be too sure. A lot of the aliens were friendly in Star Wars. You can’t say the same about Napoleon,” Raul said.

  Aki changed to another channel. In London, the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra was playing a triumphant march by Elgar. In Moscow, the Kirov Orchestra was playing the ballad Stenka Razin. According to the commentary, Stenka Razin was the story of a hero who led an uprising against the forces of bureaucracy. The music helped settle Aki’s nerves. She closed her eyes for a moment, took a deep breath, and tried to clear her head.

  “Joseph, which feed are you listening to?” Aki asked the other member of her Contact Team.

  “Berlin, ma’am,” the young Special Forces soldier replied. Joseph Turnbull was twenty-six years old, laconic yet well educated. Given his military background, handsome looks, and brave demeanor, Aki felt he was the best possible substitute for Mark Ridley. Captain Turnbull was assigned to protect Aki and Raul. During their speed and endurance training, Aki had been amazed by Turnbull’s agility. Having someone who reminded her of Mark made her feel protected even though it pained her to relive the memories of her last voyage in the Phalanx.

  Thinking of how the upgrades made it seem like a different ship even though she had spent so much time on board on the previous mission, Commander Shiraishi switched to the broadcast from Berlin, which was playing orchestral music by Wagner.

  “That is Tannhäuser, right?” she asked, trying to establish some rapport with the soldier.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he replied.

  The opera told of the struggle between sacred and profane love. Aki stayed on the broadcast coming from Berlin, audio-only. Despite being transmitted millions of kilometers, the sound quality of the Deep Space Network was free from static and ghost noises. Aki was intrigued by the fact that it was being performed live but several minutes in the past. She switched her monitor to one of the external cameras.

  As she listened to the scene in which Elizabeth prays and then asks the returning pilgrims for news of Tannhäuser, Aki gazed at the pale blue half-illuminated dot and the smaller white dot next to it. She found the calmer state of mind she sought. All the battles she had fought were behind her. Humanity sometimes seemed both inhuman and inhumane, but she had found a path that brought her a chance to fulfill her dream. She felt that nothing would stop her from making direct contact with the Builders.

  The waiting was finally over at the UNSDF Fleet Headquarters as well. The only questions left for them were when the war would start and how much they would be able to prepare before attacks started. Since the fleet had to depart five months before the Builders’ arrival, almost all tactical strategic contingencies had to be decided in advance. Once the ships were launched, nothing more than minor corrections could be implemented.

  The difficulty came from the ships taking off while the Builders were still outside of Pluto’s orbit, nine billion kilometers away. Raul had once likened it to a soccer goalie trying to defend a net eight meters wide but having to pick a pose and stay frozen even though the opposing midfielders were still dribbling up from the opposite end of the field.

  “Had the Builders shown something besides complete indifference, even acknowledged our presence, we wouldn’t be in this situation,” one of the UNSDF headquarter members had told Aki.

  Despite the actions taken by people on Earth, the Builders never deviated from their original trajectory for even a second. The Builders gave no warnings to humanity. They had not shown any indications that they would attempt to thwart the attack. The possibility remained that life on Earth was insignificant to their plans. The Builders could not be bothered to acknowledge human existence. If the Builders wanted to eradicate humanity, they could have done so long before now. Sometimes, Aki wondered why they had not done
so.

  The deceleration of the Builders’ ship was constant at a force of 1/100 of a G. Normally, the deceleration of a slowing vessel increased as it burned off fuel and became lighter. Instead, the Builders modified their thrust to keep their deceleration constant. Six years earlier, when the first sightings were made, eight engines had been burning. Now the Builders were down to only one. The Builders, in their relentless commitment to achieving their goal regardless of the costs, had used matter from the engines they no longer needed as fuel for the only engine still intact. This was another achievement brought about by their mastery of nanotechnology. To be able to maintain constant deceleration while consuming their own vessel for its stored energy, they had to push their ship’s structural integrity to its limits. If the Builders continued to brake at the same rate of deceleration, the last of their speed would burn off inside the earth’s orbit and the remainder of their ship would enter into an orbit around the sun that ran alongside the inner planets. Before becoming an artificial planet, Aki presumed that the Builders would need to stop to replenish the resources they had converted into propulsion fuel during the years of their arduous voyage. The five potential candidates were, in order of likelihood, the Vert-Ring, Mercury, Venus, Earth, and the moon.

  No one knew why the Builders were not stopping sooner. Destinations like the Kuiper Belt or one of the outer planets had seemed logical to Aki. The most plausible theory was that their nanotechnology was partially powered by solar radiation—Ring architecture forcing individual photons to interact with single atoms in order to produce energy. The Builders had located their Ring production plant as close to the sun as possible. Once the Ring had finally been constructed, a secondary fuel source appeared to include the antimatter generated by the Ring.