Heirs of Empire

He jerked the golden buttons closed, suppressing a habitual stab of annoyance as the tight-fitting collar squeezed his neck. He checked the drape of the dark blue fabric in the wavery reflection of a mirror of polished silver, for it would never do to come before God improperly vested at this of all times. He passed inspection, and he stepped quickly through the door of imperishable metal onto the glassy floor of the Sanctum.

His bishops waited, clad as he in their tight-fitting vestments, as he walked to his place at the center of the huge chamber and felt a wash of familiar awe as the night sky rose above him. The dark sphere of midnight enveloped him, blotting out the polished, trophy-hung walls with the glory of God’s own stars, but awe was replaced by dread as he looked up and saw the scarlet sigil of the demons rising slowly in the eastern sky.

The sight chilled his blood, for it burned still and bright, the color of fresh blood and not the pulsing yellow flicker of Fire Test, Plot Test, or System Check. But he squared his shoulders, reminding himself he was God’s servant. He marched to the altar, and the inhuman beauty of the Voice’s unhurried, inflectionless speech rolled over him, calm and reassuring in its eternal, unchanging majesty.

“Warning,” it said in the Holy Tongue, every word sweet and pure as silver, “passive system detection warning. Hostiles approach.” The Voice continued, speaking words not even the high priest knew as it invoked God’s protection, and he felt a shiver of religious ecstasy. Then it returned to words he recognized, even though he did not fully understand them. “Contact in five-eight-point-three-seven minutes,” it said, and fell silent. After a moment it began again, repeating the Warning, and Vroxhan knelt to press his bearded lips reverently to the glowing God Lights of the high altar with a silent prayer that God might overlook his manifest unworthiness for the task which had come to him. Then he rose, and sang the sacred words of benediction.

“Arm systems,” he sang, and a brazen clangor rolled through the Sanctum, but this time no one showed fear. This they had heard before, every year of their religious lives, at the Feast of Fire Test. Yet this time was different, for this time its familiar, martial fury summoned them to battle in God’s holy cause.

The challenge of God’s Horn faded, and the Voice spoke once more.

“Armed,” it said sweetly. “Hostiles within engagement parameters.”

Amber circles sprang into the starry heavens, entrapping the crimson glare of the demons, ringing it in the adamantine rejection of God’s wrath, and Vroxhan felt himself tremble as the ultimate moment of his life rushed to meet him. He was no longer afraid—no longer even abashed, for God had raised him up. He was God’s vessel, filled with God’s power to meet this time of Trial, and his eyes gleamed with a hundred reflected stars as he turned to his fellows. He raised his arms and watched them draw strength from his own exaltation. Other arms rose, returning his blessing, committing themselves to the power and the glory of God while the demons’ red glare washed down over their faces and vestments.

“Be not afraid, my brothers!” Vroxhan cried in a great voice. “The time of Trial is upon us, but trust in God, that your souls may be exalted by His glory and the demons may be confounded, for the power is His forever!”

“Forever!” The answering roar battered him, and there was no fear in it, either. He turned back to the high altar, lifting his eyes defiantly to the demon light, rejecting it and the evil for which it stood, and his powerful, rolling voice rose in the sonorous music of the ancient Canticle of Deliverance.

“Initiate engagement procedure!”

Chapter Fifteen

“Coming into range of another one,” Harriet announced from Plotting as a display sighting ring circled yet another dot. “A big one.”

Sean felt—and shared—her stress. They were finally close enough for Israel’s scanners to detect subplanetary targets, and the tension had been palpable ever since the first deep-space installation was spotted. There’d been more in the last two hours—lots more—and his hopes had soared with the others’. The first one hadn’t been much to look at, only a remote scanner array crippled by what appeared to have been a micrometeorite strike, but the ones deeper in-system were much bigger. In fact, they looked downright promising, and he kept reminding himself not to let premature optimism carry him away.

“I’m on it, Harry,” Sandy reported from Tactical. Her active scanners had less reach than Harriet’s passive sensors but offered far better resolution once a target had been pointed out to them. “Coming in now. Comp Cent calls it a Radona-class yard module, Tam.”

“Radona, Radona,” Tamman muttered, running through his Engineering files. “Aha! I thought I remembered! It’s a civilian yard, but with the right support base, a Radona class could turn out another Israel in about eight months, Sean. If we get it on-line, we can build us a hypercom no sweat.”

“That,” Sean said quietly, “is the best news I’ve had in the last twenty-one months. People, it looks like we’re going to make it after all.”

“Yes, I—” Sandy began, then broke off with a gasp. “Sean, that thing’s live!”

“What?” Sean stared across at her, and she nodded vigorously.

“I’m getting standby level power readings from at least two Khilark Gamma fusion plants—maybe three.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Sean muttered. He twisted back around to glare at the bland light floating in Harriet’s sighting ring. “She’d need hydrogen tankers, maintenance services, a resource base … She can’t be live!”

“Try telling that to my scanners! I’ve definitely got live fusion plants, and if her power’s up, we won’t even have to activate her!”

“But I still don’t see how—”

“Sean,” Harriet cut him off, “I’m getting more installations. Look.”

Scores of sighting rings blossomed as her instruments came in range of the new targets, and Sean blinked.

“Sandy?”

“I’m working them, Sean.” Sandy’s voice was absent as she communed with her systems. “Okay, these—” three of Harriet’s amber rings turned green “—look like your ‘resource base.’ They’re processing modules, but they’re not Battle Fleet designs, either. They might be modified civil facilities.” She paused, then continued flatly. “And they’re live, too.”

“This,” Sean said to no one in particular, “is getting ridiculous. Not that I’m ungrateful, but—” He shook himself. “What about the others?”

“Can’t tell yet. I’m getting some very faint power leakage from them, but not enough for resolution at this range.” She closed her eyes and frowned in concentration. “If they’re live, it doesn’t look like they’ve got much on- board generation capacity. Either that, or …” Her voice trailed off.

“Or what?”

“Those might be stasis emissions.” She sounded unhappy at suggesting that, and Sean grunted. No stasis field could maintain itself from internal power, and there wasn’t enough available from the powered-down plants of the other facilities to sustain that many fields with broadcast power.

“Humph. Goose us back up to point-five cee and take us in, Brashan.”

“Coming up to point-five cee, aye,” Brashan replied from Maneuvering, and Sean frowned even more thoughtfully. Something about those installations bothered him. They floated in distant orbit around the third planet, not in a ring but in a wide-spaced sphere. There were too many of them—and they were much too small—to be more yard modules, but each was almost a third of Israel’s size, so what the devil were they?

“Sean!” Harriet’s exclamation was sharp. “I’ve got a new power source—a monster—and it’s on the planet!”

His head whipped back up as still another sighting ring appeared in the display and the new emission source crept into sight over the planetary horizon. Harry was right; it was huge. But it was also … strange, and he frowned as its light code flickered uncertainly.

“Can you localize it?”