“This is scary enough that I hadn’t thought about it at all. What about the graser? Isn’t that the UNSDF’s ace in the hole? Why put our butts on the line when the second round of missiles will get destroyed as quickly as the first?” Aida said as she adjusted the strap on her chair.
“I think the UNSDF realizes that the graser may not work,” Aki said, making sure to keep her voice even and speak clearly. “I assumed the graser would recognize the Builders’ ship when it approached Mercury or the Vert-Ring, with the identification being made by the collimation telescope on the Island. Now the Builders’ ship, since so much was burned for fuel to decelerate, looks nothing like it originally did—different mass, different shape. But the Builders were heading, without trepidation, toward Mercury. They are confident of being recognized by their own security. If I am right, that means the graser will still recognize them too.”
“Of course,” Igor said. “The graser on the Thompson no longer had the collimation telescope attached. But if the telescope is still able to receive a signal from the Builders, there would be the chance that a fail-safe mechanism could activate, preventing the graser from firing. The UNSDF has no idea how the graser actually functions; the discovery of the triggering mechanism was just dumb luck.
“Because the UNSDF’s secret weapon might not work, we’re expected to risk our lives to boost the second missile attack’s chances. Think of the resources spent on building this ship that could’ve been used to heal the sick, all to give us one chance to communicate with the Builders.” Igor paused, then said, “But I’ll be honest. This isn’t panning out and I think we should do something useful if we can. The personal consequences we face aren’t as important as the consequences to Earth.”
“Are you saying that the contact mission was nothing but a shot in the dark all along?” Aki asked. She knew Igor was not really condemning the contact mission, but she wanted to make a point of having everyone’s thoughts on the table before she went forward. Even though she was the leader, they were in this together now.
“Whether I thought so or not, it’s turning out to be.” Igor shrugged.
“The chances were slim, but it was our obligation as civilized, humane, and sentient beings to try,” Aida said.
Aki looked around the room. “Does anyone else have anything they want to add?” That was it; the crew of the UNSS Phalanx agreed to comply with the UNSDF request. Aki dismissed her crew, then wrote a brief reply. Igor and Aida began to plot the course to approach the Builders’ ship. Raul tested the new observation program. He used a record of the attack beam to test the software’s ability to predict where the beam would fire.
The Crookes, the Einstein and the Millikan launched their missiles. The warheads would not reach their target until the next day.
Aki tried to rest but sleep did not come. Instead, Aida’s feelings of frustration over the poor mission planning and being put in harm’s way echoed through her head. The day she had interviewed Aida, she had canceled the remaining interviews. Aki ordered a lemonflavored sedative from the alimentation system. Before drinking it, she opened a private channel with Raul.
“Are you awake?”
“Wide awake. I’m still in my sexual prime, you know.”
“Well I’m not,” Aki said. “I have a favor to ask.”
“Shoot.”
“Can you try to comfort Aida? She is not dealing well.”
“What do you expect me to do?”
“I don’t know. Ask her to meet you in the crew room for coffee? Talking to you might cheer her up. She has feelings toward you.”
“I would rather be cheering you up,” Raul said.
“Don’t worry about me. I’m not fragile,” Aki said tersely.
“I guess it’s my imagination then.”
“If it makes you happy, I was about to take a sedative and get some sleep.”
“I’m being sent on a comfort mission while you take a nap? I know it’s wrong to say this to a commander but you’re being a coldhearted bitch.”
“I didn’t mean it the way you’re taking it.”
“Then don’t take this the wrong way, but whatever, Aki. You got me roped into this mission, and it looks like we’re not going to get back home. For all we know, this is one of the last conversations we’ll ever have.”
Aki knew Raul was trying to get her to invite him to come comfort her in her cocoon. In the seventeen years they had known each other, there had been several times where they were almost intimate. Aki had always turned him down, sometimes after a few kisses, not because she disliked the idea, but because it was always bad timing and her research had been more important. When she had not been caught in the moment, Aki had always pretended to be oblivious to his advances.
Aki considered how keeping someone at a distance by pretending not to notice them was also a form of communication. She wondered if the message the Builders were trying to convey was similar to what Aki’s reluctance said about her feelings toward Raul. She realized that, despite his motives, this really was likely to be one of her last conversations with Raul. Memories of embracing a different man, twenty years ago, flooded through her. Aki realized that keeping her distance was what the situation demanded, regardless of the fact that it was not what she really wanted.
“We have a big day tomorrow. On second thought, you should just get some rest too, Raul. Goodnight.”
ACT VI: JULY 31, 2041
THE FIRST BURST of light appeared at a distance of seventeen thousand kilometers from the Builders’ ship. The attack beam pointed in the direction of the closest missile, fired, and transformed the missile into a patch of superheated vapor. The image on the viewscreen filled with a blinding flash.
The observation program was still at work; the laser communication systems still transmitted data to the warheads. The missiles responded with their most recent positional information. One by one, the decoy warheads activated and were picked off, causing the attack beam to stop to recharge for a moment. The window was a brief one—no more than ten seconds. The missiles crossed the ten thousand kilometer mark. Six active warheads remained.
Another flash of light appeared as a warhead carrying a spiderweb was hit. The webbing vaporized into a plasma cloud. The remaining missiles scattered to avoid being hit. Two more flashes followed, both from the destruction of decoy warheads.
While the beam was destroying those decoys, two active warheads reached the five thousand–kilometer mark. Relative to their target, the missiles were traveling at fourteen kilometers per second. At that speed, they had to evade the attack beam for six more minutes to strike effectively.
The attack beam fired again, disintegrating one of the active warheads. Then it took out the last of the decoys. The final active warhead had three thousand kilometers to go and had nothing but its own maneuverability to distract the attack beam from homing in. On its final approach, the missile began to exhaust its fuel to increase its acceleration. Aki could hear the three minutes ticking inside her head.
The missile’s angular speed relative to the alien vessel increased, evading the attack beam twice.
At the two thousand–kilometer mark, Aki could not help but feel conflicted. At that moment, the needs of humanity seemed greater than her desire to finally communicate with the Builders. And then the final warhead was disintegrated by the beam. All that remained were twisted fragments of spiderwebs. After a few moments, even those burned away. The only object in close proximity to the Builders was the Phalanx.