Sunborn (37 page)

    Lamarr interjected, “And what would they want with us?”

   
“We do not know precisely where they are from. They are a collection of forces with their locus of power near the center of this galaxy. We have never pinpointed their exact place of origin.”

   
Lamarr looked as if he were having trouble maintaining his facade of skepticism. The translator continued without pause.

   
“There is much to tell about the Adversary, and much more we do not yet know. Perhaps later we can discuss this in depth. But for now: we believe the Adversary is an artificial lifeform, and one that threatens organic worlds throughout the galaxy. It has destroyed or tried to destroy nearly three hundred worlds since your species reached its hunter-gatherer stage. The Adversary does not intend to allow your world to become a starfaring race—or to survive at all, for long.”

   
Julie closed her eyes, trying to shut out a roaring in her ears. “Why?”

   
“The reasons are complex, and rooted in deep history. But they appear not to wish to share the galaxy with organic life.”

   
“So—are you saying that John’s sacrifice was wasted, because they’re just going to kill us anyway?”

   
“No. John saved your world from imminent danger. It was a heroic deed, and your people owe him a great debt. But the victory was not permanent. It may never be permanent. There is always another danger. In this case, the new danger is following unusually quickly. And we must act quickly, to preserve John Bandicut’s victory.”

   
Lamarr was rubbing his right temple, as though he had a headache. When he spoke, his voice was low and careful. “This is all, to say the least, very disquieting. But you haven’t shown us any evidence—or told us what you want us to do. Not meaning any offense—but how can we be sure that you’re on our side, and this other thing isn’t?” When the translator was silent, he went on, “I mean, what sort of a craft
is
 this object? If it threatens Earth, it must be huge. If we knew where to look, would we see it?”

   
“As for the former question, only you can decide whether to trust us. As for the latter, it is an excellent question. Perhaps we can test it. We estimate the craft to be between one millimeter and one meter in diameter.”

   
Julie rocked back as if a gust of wind had hit her. “Are you sure you converted our units right? That’s tiny.”

   
“The units are correct. You must not equate physical size with power.”

   
Lamarr rubbed his thumbs and forefingers together nervously. “All right, I will grant you that power can come in small packages. Clearly you are a living example. But even the most powerful nuclear bomb couldn’t come close to destroying a planet. So I don’t understand—”

    “Wait,” Julie interjected. “Is it...some kind of black hole? A quantum black hole?”

   
“That description is imprecise. But the object does control a small singularity, and that is the peril.”

   
“A singularity?” Lamarr was clearly struggling to absorb all this. “That makes it sound like—well, let me put it this way—what could
we
possibly do about it? Look at us!” He gestured around the cargo hold, a cramped compartment holding crates and mesh bags. “We don’t exactly control cosmic forces here. Can
you
?”

   
“If we interpret your intended meaning correctly...yes, we believe we can intercept and neutralize the threat.”

   
The intercom buzzed, and a voice called out. It was the ship’s master, Captain Iacuzio. “Are you doing something down there that could be affecting our instruments on the bridge? According to my navigator, the radar and lidar transmitters have just come on by themselves. They’re sending out pulses in frequencies they’re not supposed to be capable of using. Do you know anything about that?”

    Lamarr’s eyebrows shot up. “Let me check, Captain.” He asked the translator, “Did you hear that?”

   
“Yes. We are performing long-range scans to see if we can confirm certain information about the Adversary intruder. We will be finished shortly.”

   
“Hmmh.” Lamarr turned toward the intercom. “Captain, the translator is indeed making use of your instruments. It will be done shortly.”

    There was a pause long enough for someone to have assimilated that statement and perhaps sworn silently. “Come talk to me when you’re finished down there, would you please?”

    “Affirmative,” Lamarr said. To the translator, he said, “Will you let me know when you’re done?”

   
“We are done.”

   
Lamarr acknowledged, rubbing his jaw. “Was that a demonstration of power? I think we all know that your powers greatly exceed our own. But our lives depend on that navigational equipment. We would appreciate it if you didn’t—”

   
“Understood. We will need to use the equipment again tomorrow—with your permission.”

   
“Do you mind explaining why?”

   
“To confirm course and velocity measurements on the object.”

   
“You—” Lamarr caught himself. “Are you saying you just detected the object with our equipment?”

   
“That is correct.”

   
Lamarr swung away, frowning, then swung back. He started to speak to the translator, then instead called to activate the intercom. “Captain Iacuzio? Are you free to come down here?”

*

   
Captain Iacuzio was a short, trim man in his late forties, with streaks of gray in his hair. He had bright blue eyes and a no-nonsense manner. “I’m here,” he said, loping toward them with the ease of someone to whom low gravity was home. Henry made the introductions, and Iacuzio faced the translator. “I meet our guest at last,” he said. “I’m honored.” He smoothed his navy-blue uniform jacket. “Would someone be so kind as to brief me? Dr. Lamarr—when you called, it sounded urgent.”

    Lamarr summarized, then invited the translator to elaborate. This time the device wasted no time.
“We must intercept the object and destroy or neutralize it before it can cause harm to your planet.”

    “Well, we on
this
 ship don’t have the capability to do that,” Iacuzio said. “But we can pass on any information you give us to the authorities and the military. They’d be in a better position to take action.”

    The translator spun and twirled, as if it had been doing so forever.
“Your authorities cannot respond in time. And their ships would not be able to neutralize the threat.”

    Lamarr made an
urk
 of frustration. “They have nukes, and speed. If that’s not enough, then I don’t know what—”

   
“Your nuclear weapons would be ineffective against this foe.”

   
As Lamarr stuttered in exasperation, Julie tried to hold back a rush of fear. She suddenly knew exactly what was coming. Damn. Oh, damn.

   
“The way to deal with this threat,”
the translator continued,
“is to divert this ship to intervene. In our scan a short time ago, we narrowed the position and likely orbit of the object. If we take another scan tomorrow, we can narrow it further. But we will have to move quickly to intercept it.”

    Captain Iacuzio shook his head. “With
this
 ship? That’s impossible. Our orbit is planned down to the kilometer, and that’s what we have fuel for, plus a modest reserve. I’m afraid this isn’t a holo-thriller. We can’t just change course and zip around the solar system.”

   
“We are aware of your ship’s ordinary limitations. We would not divert using your current methods of propulsion.”

   
“What, then?” Iacuzio asked sharply. “Are you about to share a technological secret with us?”

   
“We would use spatial threading.”

   
Julie closed her eyes.
Spatial threading
. John, in his transmissions from
Neptune Explorer,
 had said he was threading space.

   
“The science is complex. But the procedure is quite safe, and the available energy more than sufficient.”

   
The captain looked like a professor puzzled by a student’s question. “I’m sorry, but what energy source were you thinking of? Our fusion drive doesn’t—”

   
“We’re not referring to your ship’s fusion energy, but rather to quantum vacuum energy.”

   
“Energy from the vacuum? We’ve been trying to do that for a century. Are you going to show us how?”

   
“Perhaps in time. Right now, our only concern is diverting this ship and intercepting the object.”

   
“Ah.” The captain clasped his hands together, clearly trying to decide just how to respond. He puffed out his cheeks and blew into his cupped hands. “Well. You know, it’s not like I
want
to turn down a request from our first visitor from the stars—especially when you’re trying to help us. But...as I’m sure you know, my first responsibility is to the safety of this ship and the fifty-four people aboard. Without understanding exactly what you’re planning to do, I’d have a hard time agreeing to—well, pretty much anything that could put my ship in jeopardy.”

   
“And what about the jeopardy to your homeworld?”

   
Iacuzio blinked hard. “I guess I don’t know enough about that yet. We have only your statement. I’m not saying I don’t believe you. But can’t you give us more information?”

   
“If you will permit us to use your sensor equipment again tomorrow morning, we may be able to provide that evidence. Will you grant permission?”

   
“It didn’t seem as though you required my permission last time.”

   
“Apologies. We do prefer to work cooperatively.”

   
“All right. But could you please give us advance warning, before you take over the grid?”

   
“Agreed.”

   
Lamarr cleared his throat. “May we take the opportunity to confer with our headquarters and discuss this question among ourselves? We have a lot to think about.”

   
“We will take no further action before the next measurements. But time for deliberations is short.”

   
Lamarr turned. “First thing here tomorrow, Captain?”

    “Oh-eight-hundred hours, everyone. And no one is to speak of this to the crew or passengers. Is that understood?”

*

   
It was late—their conversation with the translator had begun after dinner and lasted for several hours—and Julie fervently wished she could go straight to sleep. But back in the cabin, in her bunk, she found her mind churning—and her roommate bursting with questions. She could hardly blame Arlene; all this time Arlene had been observing from the outside, and to suddenly be put in the presence of the translator, and then to hear it talk of doomsday machines roving the solar system...

    Arlene seemed torn between disbelief and terror. She brushed her hair almost violently, shaking her head in agitation every few seconds. “Do you think it’s as serious as the translator said?” she blurted finally. “That the whole human race is in danger? Isn’t that...
extreme
?”

    Julie laughed hollowly, staring up at the ceiling. “Extreme? Oh, yes. It certainly is. But that’s not the question, is it?”

    Arlene looked up at her with frightened eyes. “What do you mean?”

    “The question is, is it true?”

    Arlene murmured something inaudible and climbed into the bottom bunk. Then she said from below, “I suppose the question is not
just
is it true—but if it
is
 true, is it really up to us to do something about it?” She breathed noisily for a few moments, before adding, “Oh dear.”

    “Oh dear,” Julie said softly, “is precisely right. Let’s get some sleep. Good night, Arlene.” She switched off her reading light and closed her eyes. /Stones,/ she thought, /are you going to do to me what you did to John?/ When the stones did not answer immediately, she felt as if she might throw up. /You told me we were going to Earth. Was that a lie, or are you changing the agenda?/

   
*We indicated we were ready for the journey. We did not specify Earth.*

   
/You bastards. You lied to me!/

   
*We gave incomplete information. For that we are sorry. But it was necessary.*

   
Julie grunted silently. After a moment, she shivered.
What the hell am I doing here? Following in John’s footsteps—but with a whole ship full of people? Dear God, will I ever see Earth again?
 Exhaling stiffly, she forced herself to stop that line of thought. But immediately another thought appeared. /If we do this thing, will I see John again?/

    There was no answer from the stones. She rolled over and tried to go to sleep. Impossible. She stared at the backs of her eyelids and thought about what she wanted to say to people back on Earth, if she ever got another chance.
Mom and Dad and Thomas.
Her parents and her brother would never understand, but she needed to say things, anyway.
And Dakota Bandicut: I never said it right to her.
She had sent a couple of holo-messages from Triton, but had never gotten across what she wanted to say—that she felt a special kinship with the girl even though they’d never met, that Dakota should be proud to bursting of her uncle.
And what about John?
 /Are you going to tell me? If he’s alive, where is he?/