Prophets

Date: 2526.6.3 (Standard) 750,000 km from Salmagundi-HD 101534

In the hours since the engines failed, the bridge slowly filled with floating debris as Mosasa and Tsoravitch pulled out burned-out components from the panels around the bridge. Parvi wasn’t remotely technical, and until they resurrected something she could fly, she was relegated to watching the other three work on the electronics of the bridge in relative silence, retrieving any segments of cable, broken fragments of plastic insulation, or discolored circuits as they floated by. She stashed the debris in a mesh bag so they didn’t float into something important and cause them worse problems.

As if things could get worse.

Despite the best efforts from Mosasa and Tsoravitch to contain the stuff, every few minutes, Parvi had to grab some migrating fragment of flayed electronics. She was in the midst of bagging a fragment of optical cable that had gotten caught in her ponytail when Wahid shouted “I got contact with Bill!”

Parvi pulled herself upright. “Is he okay?”

Over the PA system, Bill’s synthetic human voice spoke. “I find myself and my support systems unharmed.”

Mosasa turned around. His dragon tattoo seemed particularly sinister in the dim emergency lighting. “What the hell happened to my ship?”

“An unprecedented surge in the engines,” Bill said. “It is unique in my experience, but the energy surge was exponentially higher than expected for normal tach-drive interference.”

“Did you see what the fuck happened to that drive?” Wahid said.

“I salvaged the data. And I have detected something I believe is important.”

Mosasa floated up and grabbed the console next to the navigator’s station, bringing himself to a stop. “What?” he asked.

“I have connected to an external camera array. I will patch the images up to you. Can you see the data?”

“I’ve got it, Bill.” Wahid said.

As Wahid connected Bill’s data to the main holo display, Tsoravitch floated up next to Parvi.

The holo shimmered and stabilized into a view of a star field that, at first, looked unremarkable.

“Well, what the hell? Look at that.” Wahid broke out in a grin. “Look at that!”

In a moment, Parvi could tell why Wahid was grinning. Centered in the image, barely visible, was a pair of spacecraft. As she watched, they got noticeably larger.

Tsoravitch grabbed Parvi’s arm and shouted, “Yes! Yes!”

“Can we magnify this at all?” Mosasa asked.

“Sure,” Wahid said, and the image zoomed in on the two vessels. One was clearly a drop-ship with a smooth skin and the profile of a lifting body that could provide some sort of maneuvering capability in an atmosphere. The other had the spidery appearance of a vessel never meant to descend into a gravity well.

Parvi could also now see the green-and-white crescent markings of the Caliphate.

“Apparently,” Wahid said, “we didn’t beat them here.”

“Do we have any of our communications array up?” Parvi asked.

“Not yet,” Tsoravitch whispered. Parvi could tell that she was remembering the holo of the attack on Mosasa’s salvage yard.

Parvi hugged her shoulder. “Don’t worry. If they had evil intent, we’d know by now. We’re well within range of that ship’s missile battery.”

Mosasa shook his head. “It’s wrong . . .”

“What’s wrong?” Wahid asked. “You said yourself that they were going—”

Mosasa slammed his hand against the console. “They didn’t have the time.”

“Uh, should I point out the obvious,” Wahid said. “They are here. You know, maybe your crystal ball’s a little cloudy.”

Mosasa looked at Wahid, and all the expression drained from his face. “Perhaps it is over,” he whispered.

The flat way he said it chilled Parvi. It was as if he had given up.

“Are you still there, Bill?”

“Yes, Mr. Mosasa.”

“They will probably come through the cargo bay. Prepare to greet our visitors.”