Bright Light. Ian Douglas

Rosette phenomenon, Captain,” Vasilyeva said. “Are you going to change course for an intercept?”

      Gray considered the question for only a second or so. “Negative.”

      “Captain!” Commander Rohlwing said. His executive officer sounded shocked. “If that’s the Rosette entity … I mean … it’s not supposed to be here! Earth will need every ship to mount a defense!”

      Gray closed his eyes. He was being presented with the same impossible choice twice within the space of a few weeks, and it freaking wasn’t fair!

      “First,” he said, “a light space carrier does not have the sheer firepower to make a difference fighting that thing. Second … and more important, right now Earth’s only hope is for us to get to Deneb and get help. And that’s precisely what I intend to do.”

      “But—”

      “Comm! Transmit corrected images of what we’re seeing out there back to Earth and include a warning. Tell them what’s coming.”

      “Aye, aye, Captain. Speed-of-light transmission time currently is eleven minutes.”

      “Will it get to Earth before that … thing?”

      “Yes, sir. Our message will beat it … By about eight minutes.”

      “Then that’s the best we can do.”

      The next dozen minutes passed in silence, as Gray and those members of the crew not actively engaged in operating the ship watched the unfolding patterns and shapes of light. They’d all seen much the same at Kapteyn’s Star, or heard about it from men and women who’d been there.

      I wonder, Gray thought with some bitterness, if Earth will still be there when we return.

      It was distinctly possible that even if the Denebans agreed to help them with some incredible high-tech weapon they could use against the Rosette, they’d get back to Earth only to find that they were too late …

       Chapter Four

       1 February 2426

       New White House

       Washington, D.C.

       1802 hours, EST

      “Incoming message, priority red one-one, Mr. President.”

      “Thank you, Pierre,” Koenig replied. “Decode and play.”

      “Yes, sir.” The voice was that of a new AI built into the New White House. It had been named after Pierre Charles L’Enfant, the French architect who’d designed the layout of the original Washington, D.C., in the late eighteenth century.

      “Excuse me, Gene,” Koenig told the tall man with him in the Oval Office. “I need to take a call.”

      “Of course, Mr. President.”

      Leaning back in his chair, Koenig closed his eyes and opened an inner window. The transmission was from the Joint Chiefs, and had been relayed from the Republic, now an hour outbound. Though made grainy and low res by distance, Koenig could see the image well enough. Light exploded out of empty space, unfolding like a flower, opening and expanding. Moments later, a faint haze appeared to be streaming from the effect’s central core.

      “That smoke or fog is, we believe, a cloud of what our people call fireflies,” Lawrence Vandenburg, his secretary of defense, said in his mind. “Not nanotechnology, exactly, but extremely tiny machines operating according to a set series of programmed instructions. They can be used to build extremely large and complex structures in open space … or they can be used as nanodisassembler-type weapons. The cloud emerged some forty astronomical units from the sun and is now on a direct course to Earth. At their current velocity, they will be here in another two and a half hours.”

      “You need to see this, Gene,” Koenig said as the message ended. Admiral Gene Armitage was senior of his Joint Chiefs of Staff.

      “I thought we might have more time, Mr. President,” Armitage said after digesting the transmission. “I thought we had an agreement …”

      “We were never sure the Rosette entity even understood what a treaty or an agreement was,” Koenig replied, grim. “All we could be certain of was that the Omega Code made that thing sit up and take notice. It may have developed some way of counteracting the virus.”

      “It probably did that a couple of nanoseconds after it was exposed,” Armitage said. “Advanced AIs work on an entirely different experience of time than do humans.”

      “So why did it wait? It’s been over a month since we stopped it at Kapteyn’s Star.”

      “I don’t know, sir. Maybe it just had other things to think about.”

      “Deploy all available ships, Gene,” Koenig told him. “Including anything we have in the naval yards … damaged ships, fighters, the works. We need to stop that cloud from getting to Earth.”

      “Yes, sir.” He hesitated. “What about the Republic?”

      Koenig checked his inner clock. “Unless Gray decided to turn around when he recorded this, he’s already gone into Alcubierre Drive.” Koenig didn’t add that Gray’s orders were to get to Deneb at all costs. He would not be returning immediately.

      Not that a single light carrier would add much in a stand-up fight against that, he thought, watching the vid once more.

      He opened another channel. “Konstantin?”

      There was no reply, and that was profoundly troubling. Konstantin was arguably the most powerful super-AI in the solar system, and Koenig depended on the artificial mind’s guidance … especially when faced with existential threats.

      “Konstantin?”

      Pierre responded. “Mr. President, Konstantin is no longer on-line.”

      “What? Where the hell did he go?”

      “I’m guessing, sir, but it seems likely that he became aware of the threat posed by the Rosette entity and has made himself difficult to detect.”

      Great. Just freaking great. The most strategic powerful mind in Humankind’s arsenal had taken one look at the threat and jumped into a cyber-hole … then pulled the opening in after him.

      “Send a transmission to Fort Meade,” Koenig told the White House AI. “And Crisium … and Geneva. We need the Gordian Slash … and we need it now.”

      He just hoped they had something, and that it could be deployed in time.

       VFA-211, Headhunters

      TC/USNA CVS America

       Earth Synchorbit

       1913 hours, TFT

      Lieutenant Jason Meier braced himself as his SG-420 Starblade dropped into its launch bay. “Headhunter Three, ready for drop,” he announced.

      “Copy Hunter Three,” a voice said in-head. “Stand by. America is pulling clear of the gantry.”

      What was her name? Fletcher, right. His new Commander Air Group, or CAG; she sounded near-c hot, and he was looking forward to meeting her, really meeting her and not just listening to her give a standard “welcome aboard” speech to the squadron. Yeah … her mental voice was all business, of course, but Meier thought he could detect some warmth there, and maybe a need for exactly what he could provide.

      He was certainly looking forward to trying.

      Jason Meier was still getting used to the changes in personnel since the Headhunters had been transferred over to the