Marina Lostetter – Noumenon Infinity (страница 16)

“Starting to get a lean,” said Stone. “Shouldn’t have to course correct this much.”

“Copy. Can anybody tell me where the aberrant energy is centered?” Vanhi asked, bringing up the real-time system log.

“It’s pulling starboard,” Stone said.

“It’s the drive itself,” said de Valdivia. “It’s got to be a malfunction in the AI quantum-reaction regulation. It looks like a compensation, but the main power hasn’t been cued, so there’s nothing to compensate for.”

“Can we reboot the AI?”

“Already initiating shutdown.”

The pod—a blip on her screen—was engulfed in white light.

Everyone gasped.

No, no, no. Damn it. “Did we lose it?” She held her breath, frantically hitting refresh on all of her feeds. “Did we lose it?” she demanded, articulating every syllable.

“No!” It was Stone. “I’m still—it’s fighting me, I can’t—steering’s out, it’s veering back.”

“Talk to me,” Vanhi said, voice even and expression stern while her heart battered itself inside her ribs. Losing a pod wasn’t new. They’d lost plenty, expected to lose the majority of what they had left. But this …

The white light flared out, but what was left in its wake wasn’t debris, or a dormant pod. The probe’s hull glimmered with new life. Around it, some sort of field pulsed, fading from petal-pink to tangerine and back again.

And Stone was right—it was sailing toward the convoy.

“Convoy Control—”

“We’ve alerted Captain Tan. He’s standing by to take evasive action.”

“Copy that. ADCO, TRAJ, any way you can reel it in, get it to stop?”

“It’s not responding,” Stone gritted, pounding the holokeys at his station.

“What happened? What went wrong, MID AIM?”

“I don’t know,” de Valdivia insisted, hands flying over his keyboard, brow furrowed, jaw stiff. “I rebooted. It should have gone dead. Should have—unless … Unless the meters were off, and we weren’t detecting … No … wait, wait …”

He didn’t have to elaborate. Vanhi’s internal monologue started to hammer out two words on repeat: Oh shit. Oh shit.

Oh shit.

The AI wasn’t malfunctioning, it was doing its damned job. It was trying to keep the system from engaging. Somehow the SD drive had started to pull power, to dive, and the AI was trying to hold it back.

But then they’d shut it down …

“Are we getting any readings from Thirty-Three’s external sensors? Talk to me, people, that’s not an SD bubble like I’ve ever seen.”

“I’m getting unusual readings,” called a woman’s voice with a heavy Danish accent—Esmée Jensen, Mechanical Maintenance Officer. “Power surges.”

“Distance between the pod and the convoy is shrinking, sir,” said Stone.

Vanhi had her head down, frantically looking for a way to remotely bar the pod’s path or even destroy it. They could launch number Thirty-Four. ADCO could pilot it on an intercept course, crash the two pods—

“These are similar to the same kind of surge forces found inside SD drives when they’ve hit main sequence,” Esmée called again.

“Copy,” Vanhi gritted out.

Breath lurched. Captain Tan must have ordered the convoy to move.

“Doctor Kapoor!” Stone shouted.

Her head snapped up. She followed his outstretched hand, pointed like an arrow through the casement.

Thoomp, dooooozsh. Thoomp, dooooozsh.

There was no noise, but the sudden slow-motion leapfrogging of the pod created dramatic sound effects in her mind.

For a moment the pod looked like it was imploding, the pinkish-orangish field shrinking, turning in on itself, until there was nothing, it was gone.

That was the thoomp.

Half a second later, the field and probe appeared again, kilometers closer than before.

The violent, static-encrusted expansion—sparking, widening—engulfed her mind like a deluge of water. Dooooozsh.

The lights in the observation lounge turned purple. Captain Tan’s voice echoed over the comms system. “In order to avoid collision, we are engaging the SD drive—”

Thoomp.

Dooooozsh.

Closer. It kept coming, kept coming.

“Please, everyone, remain calm and secure yourself and any loose belongings that may pose a danger to—”

Thoomp.

Dooooozsh.

Vanhi could see the antennae groups on the pod clearly. It was so close, so—

“Dive!” Tan ordered.

Thoomp.

This time there was sound. Eardrum-bursting, earth-shattering, bone-vibrating ssssshhhhhhcrrrrash.

The pod collided with Breath, below the window deck. A white spark-lined leading edge of sunset orange passed unperturbed through the observation window, through the hull.

Vanhi’s feet left the floor as the gravity was disrupted, or damaged, or whatever was happening. She tried holding on to the desk, to keep herself grounded as chairs and mugs and monitors sailed up and away, with no clear direction, but soon she, too, was floating, aimless.

Until the strange field slammed into her, throwing her sideways, blotting out the purple light and turning it chartreuse. Her eyes snapped closed, and her breath punched its way out of her body.

Her head went light, fuzzy, nothing but …

… nothing …

… but …

… a …

… haze …

CHAPTER TWO

CONVOY SEVEN

CAZNAL: IN SEARCH OF THE LESSER REDOUBT

ONE HUNDRED AND SEVENTEEN YEARS SINCE THE INCEPTION OF NOUMENON INFINITUM SEPTEMBER 5, 117 RELAUNCH 5274 CE

… Convoy Seven has been assigned a new mission, designated Noumenon Infinitum. Its express purpose is to travel to the variable star LQ Pyxidis and complete construction of the alien megastructure, thought to be a Dyson Sphere and known as “the Web.” Once complete, Convoy Seven is to charge the batteries on the ship designated Zetta, then return to Earth …

Confidential addendum to official statement, Convoy Seven crew only:

In addition to the official mission parameters appointed by Earth, Noumenon Infinitum is to investigate the craft known as “the Nest.” Any information garnered from the investigation pertaining to alien involvement with the Web is to be applied …

… The final clause of the official mission statement can be struck. Convoy Seven need not return to Earth …

It started with a map, like all good treasure hunts do. One alien in origin, and not immediately recognizable for what it was. But it had led them here.

Caznal the Fourth gazed out of the shuttle porthole and into the inky night beyond. It wasn’t the total lightlessness of an SD bubble; it was a dark monolith of matter. A planemo—a systemless planetoid—wandering and alone. Starless, moonless. Naught but a black disk against the stars, and it blotted them out one by one as the shuttle shifted.