The Sails of Tau Ceti (35 page)

“Comm!”

“Yes, Captain.”

“General order to the fleet. It looks like they are trying to run away. All ships stand by. We’ll pick up the chase on the next orbit.”

“Aye, sir.”

“Captain!” Bremer shouted.

Van Zandt felt irritation at his first officer for interrupting him while he was issuing orders to his command.

“What is it, Mr. Bremer?”

“Captain, look at the Earth!”

Van Zandt glanced at the aft viewscreen. The Earth was a round glowing ball hanging low over the lunar limb. It would set in another few minutes as
Aurora
’s orbital velocity carried it across Luna Farside and out of sight of the home world. At first Garth did not understand what his first officer was talking about. When he finally understood, he realized the starship did not intend to run away. He swore under his breath and issued orders for an immediate departure from lunar orbit. Unfortunately, he and his command were out of position. There was not a damned thing he could do to counter the alien maneuver.

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The light streaming through the transparent dome of the great hall weakened minute by minute. As darkness fell in the world outside, panic ensued within. Tory had never seen a solar eclipse. The moons of Mars were too small. Only the inner one was capable of casting a shadow on the surface, and then only fleetingly.

She had heard about eclipses, of course, and was surprised at the psychological effect the eclipse was having on her. It was as though the superstitious dread of a thousand generations of ancestors who had feared the dark suddenly came boiling to the surface. Her reaction was especially surprising since this eclipse had been her idea. She wondered what thoughts must have been running through the minds of those who had no idea what had happened to the sun.

In a natural eclipse, the shadow of Luna sweeps across the Earth in a band of totality less than five hundred kilometers wide, while people a few hundred kilometers to either side barely notice any change at all. Tory had read of nineteenth and twentieth century scientists who had traveled halfway around the Earth to be present for the few minutes that an eclipse lasted.

This eclipse would not be normal in any fashion. The Earth was a sphere 12,800 kilometers in diameter.
Far Horizons
’s light sail was more than 20,000 kilometers across. At Faslorn’s instruction, the Phelan commander of the starship had altered his course slightly to interpose his light sail directly between Earth and the sun. Since the starship was only 600,000 kilometers distant — one-and-a-half times the distance between Earth and Luna — Earth fit completely within the light sail’s cone of shadow. Nor was the solar corona visible as it was during natural eclipses.
Far Horizons
had plucked the sun totally from the sky, causing night to fall all across the planet’s lighted hemisphere.

As the light sail’s shadow first touched the Earth, Far
Horizons
’s commander reoriented the sail to match his ship’s orbital velocity with that of Earth. The sun would remain blocked for more than an hour before orbital mechanics forced the sail out of position. To the frightened billions of terrestrials, that hour would seem an eternity.

To judge by the reaction of those in the hall, the eclipse was having all the effects Tory and the Phelan had hoped. Not a hundred meters from her, a grizzled veteran of the political wars cried like a baby as he stared upwards with mouth agape. Everywhere couples were holding onto one another for comfort. A chill had fallen in the chamber. Whether that was psychological or real, Tory was not immediately sure.

She activated her implant and tuned into the news channels. They too were in pandemonium. Correspondents were crying freely as they announced that darkness had fallen across the planet. Only those reporting from the hemisphere that had already been in night seemed calm. Yet, the panic of the daysiders seemed contagious as more of those for whom night had fallen began to question what was going on.

Tory called up the views from various traffic control cameras throughout the city. Everywhere people were pouring into the streets to congregate under the lamps that had come on automatically as darkness fell. As she scanned randomly across the city, she discovered a park where the lamps were few and far apart. It, too, was filled with surging humanity and a vast crowd that heaped fuel onto a newly lit bonfire.

Tory glanced upward through the dome. Someone had dialed for full transparency, giving those in the hall a clear view of the stars overhead. She estimated where the sun should be and squinted at that particular patch of blackness. No, the darkness was not total. She could see a faint grouping of stars that looked like the Pleiades looks from Mars. These were caused by sunlight shining through small rips in the surface of the light sail, the same rips that had disabled the Phelan ship’s ability to communicate with the fleet.

She slowly became aware of frantic activity to her left. There in the well of the chamber, dozens of councilors were crowded around information screens. Some of these were tuned to news channels, while others communicated directly to the councilors’ homes around the globe. There followed curses and prayers as the Solar System’s mighty realized the full extent of the darkness.

By the time the eclipse had lasted twenty minutes, Tory was no longer in doubt about the temperature in the chamber. It was definitely getting colder. She thought of the quintillions of ergs that normally shine down on the Earth each minute, ergs that were being intercepted by the light sail far out in space. She shivered as heaters turned on to glow cherry red around the walls. The temperature continued to drop. What had been a balmy late summer day was now frigid. It would get colder. A lot colder!

At forty-two minutes into the eclipse, snowflakes began to fall. Tory had made a point of looking at the sky before entering the building. There had been a few fleecy white clouds, but nothing to indicate a midday storm. “Warm air is able to carry more moisture than cold,” her sixth grade teacher’s voice said inside her brain. At the time, the concept had been an alien one for a twelve-year old on a planet where atmospheric moisture was unknown. The concept was alien no longer. She watched the tiny flakes pelt against the dome transparency, then melt as they contacted the still warm glass.

She wasn’t the only one. A thousand ashen faces were upturned in astonishment at the mid-summer snowstorm. Much of the pandemonium had subsided. News channels carried reports from ships out in space that described the cause of the eclipse. Officials were pleading with the populace to stay calm. The smell of smoke coming in through the air conditioning ducts told Tory that not everyone was taking their advice.

Reporters at naval headquarters cited unconfirmed reports that the entire fleet had sortied toward the alien starship. Still, the closest ship was reported more than a hundred thousand kilometers from the light sail, still too far away to do any good.

Throughout it all, the four Phelan sat impassive and observed the frightened humanity around them. Only Neirton showed any emotion. He was in a vast laboratory practicing his specialty, and had to be fascinated. Tory found herself watching various people around her. The most interesting were the Fleet Marines who had surrounded the central dais within minutes of the onset of totality. They, too, shot worried glances at the sky every few seconds, but that did not stop them from doing their duty. They formed a cordon around the aliens who had caused this calamity, both to make sure they did not leave and to protect them.

At precisely one hour into the eclipse, Faslorn stood and mounted the podium. It took a minute before anyone noticed him, then several more before sufficient order had been restored so that a speaker could be heard above the din. Order might never have been restored, but for the wan light that was beginning to show through the snow flurries. Faslorn waited until twilight returned to the world outside before he continued his interrupted speech.

“Know you, people of Sol, that this is the least of our powers. Our ship’s light sail could just as easily have concentrated the sunlight onto this planet and vaporized great regions of its surface. Twenty thousand such ships can plunge you into darkness for years on end, leaving this orb a frozen ball of ice; or else sterilize it completely with enough heat to boil your oceans.

“But let us speak no more of horrors. We Phelan are not monsters, merely desperate. Work with us, humanity! Help us! We ask for nothing more than that you have given yourselves — a place to live, sufficient food to eat, and a modicum of safety. I beseech you, humanity! Make room for us close to the welcoming fires of your star so that we too may be warmed by its golden rays.”

Faslorn paused to allow his words to sink in. It was difficult to tell what effect his entreaties were having. Tory detected an angry undercurrent in the susurration of voices around her. Besides, the outcome would depend greatly on how the news media chose to play the story over the next several days. The terror that people felt would fade in memory, to be replaced by a deep, dark anger. As the Phelan had told her, a frightened human being is a dangerous human being. She only hoped they had frightened people enough that they would contemplate the consequences of their actions. It was vital that they begin reasoning again, and stop reacting as though they were on autopilot.

The light overhead had very nearly returned to normal when Faslorn said, “Ladies and gentlemen of Sol. We of the starship
Far Horizons
place our fate into your hands. You may do with us as you will. What will it be? Life for all or war to the death?

Faslorn moved away from the podium and made his way toward the steps that would take him down to the main floor. Maratel, Raalwin, and Neirton rose to follow. So, too, did Tory. The Phelan eschewed their knuckle gait, choosing instead to walk erect like humans. Tory held her head high as she descended the steps side by side with Maratel. They reached the bottom to find their way blocked by an officer of Fleet Marines.

“Faslorn, Maratel, Neirton, and Raalwin. I arrest you in the name of the council, and of all humanity. The charge is threatening to make war upon the human race. Victoria Bronson, I arrest you on the same charge, and on the charge of treason. Will you come peacefully, or must I order my men to use force?”

CHAPTER 28

Tory’s cell might easily have been mistaken for a suite in a hotel. In addition to bedroom and bathroom, it held a small living room with an entertainment screen. Only the lack of a phone revealed the true nature of the facility — and, of course, the fact that her implant steadfastly refused commands to synchronize with the city computer. No doubt there were hidden cameras in the overhead to follow her every move as a precaution against suicide. Twice biological necessity had forced her into the bathroom, and both times, she had answered nature’s call with clenched jaw and a self-consciousness she had not suffered since the second grade.

The plush furniture was more an obstacle than a comfort as she paced a lopsided triangle around the living room. It had been hours since she had been locked up, hours in which she had been cut off from the Phelan. They might be in the adjacent cells, across town, or on the other side of the planet, for all she knew. It was the not knowing that wore on her nerves.

Earlier she had made the mistake of turning on the screen. The airwaves had been filled with news of the eclipse and its aftermath. She’d turned it off after the third time she had watched herself and the Phelan being arrested by the tall Marine officer. It sickened her to think of those same images winging their way toward the alien fleet. She could imagine the reaction a few months hence when the Phelan commanders saw how their emissaries had been treated. In Tory’s imagination, six-fingered hands were already powering up neutrino generators and swinging them into line with the sun.

For the thousandth time, Tory had visions of the sun’s fires reaching out to engulf terror stricken humanity as they filled the light sails of the Phelan. The vision had a new, terrifying solidity about it. Always before she had been able to rationalize that things would never go that far. No longer. The last few days had made Sol’s destruction seem almost preordained.

It was all so damned stupid!

A mind numbing, consciousness-defiling rage descended on Tory as she contemplated the full import of the disaster. The emotional storm was like a physical blow as she slowly sank to the carpeted floor and curled into a tight fetal ball.

The rage was unfocused and all consuming. Damn Boerk Hoffenzoller and the system council for the fools they were! Couldn’t they see that the Phelan had no choice but to seek sanctuary around Sol? And damn the Phelan for thinking they could lie their way into favor with humanity! What fool had thought up that idea in the first place? Damn the Usurpers, without whom none of this would have happened! But most of all, damn Tory Bronson for being too dimwitted to think her way out of this mess!

The realization that the human race was going to die because of her ate at Tory’s insides. Her parents, her sister, her friends, her relatives, even that pimple-faced boy she had had a crush on all through high school — all were doomed. It was hard to grasp the idea that everyone she had ever loved, hated, or been indifferent to; everyone she had yet to meet and would never meet; all would be dead within a few years. Hard? No, impossible. Even the babes in arms would die.

It just wasn’t fair!

With that most useless of all complaints, Tory began to gain a grip on her emotions. Slowly she concentrated on slowing her breathing and quelling her racing heart. When she could no longer feel her heartbeat in her temples, she unwound and got unsteadily to her feet. The aftermath of the storm was a lethargy that was palpable. It required all of her concentration to make her way to the bathroom where she dashed cold water on her face. Glancing into the mirror, she noted red-rimmed, puffy eyes and wished she could repair her makeup.

Her self-inspection was interrupted by a quiet chime from the living room. It took a moment to get over the incongruity of placing an annunciator in a jail cell. It was with a bitter smile that she moved to the door and voiced aloud permission to accept the visitor.