The Engines of Dawn (14 page)

It was all a big mystery, and now a small part of it was about to be revealed.

The Enamorati had been hard at work already and had most of the Engine removed from the immense Engine nacelle. Captured in the full light of the star-sun Kiilmist, the Engine was almost entirely black, barely visible at all. Tongues of fire damage coated much of its hulk with soot and it trailed behind it massive pipes and loose wires.

George Clock's voice sounded in their ears.
"We've only got seventeen minutes of sun left. When we go into shadow, we won't be able to see a thing."

"Affirmative on that," Ben said after Jim did not respond. The quiet young man beside him already seemed consumed by the spectacle before them.

Ben noticed that there were no space-suited Enamorati assisting in the process of jockeying the Engine away from Eos. Instead, small, single-individual Enamorati EVA craft glowing bright yellow moved here and there like gnats in a slow ballet, settling to one side or another of the big dead Engine, pushing here or pushing there.

Several moments later, however, three larger EVA craft, these glowing a bright blue, appeared from the nacelle and encircled the Engine.

"Tugs?"
Clock asked.

"I don't know what they are," Ben admitted. "We certainly don't have anything like them."

The trinity of blue orbs took equidistant positions around the Engine and began to rotate slowly.

"Wow," Ben said.

The trio of bright blue orbs, however, did cast enough light about the Engine that the Bombardiers could see more details of the Engine, or at least its cowling. To Ben, the Engine resembled a blackened-and very
big
-almond seed the size of a small, sleek asteroid. It probably took decades to build. Ben felt a new respect for the Enamorati. This was an astonishing feat of engineering.

"Look at it!" Jim said in an excited whisper.

The Engine also had an opening, like that of a ramjet scoop, or a jet intake valve at its front. It was impossible to see inside it.

They watched in silence as the small EVA vehicles made a fairy ring of pretty lights around the Engine and escorted it away from Eos. The ceremony was beautiful, majestic, and quite mysterious. Whatever lack of respect Ben may have had for organized religion in general, and the Ainge religion in particular, he gained a whole new level of admiration for the Enamorati. This was a machine that took them into the realm where their god lived. Humans had nothing like it.

The EVA vehicles then turned the Engine facing the star-sun, ninety-four million miles away. Then all the vehicles-the smaller, bright yellow craft and the three large blue orbs-began to spin around the dead Engine. Faster and faster the ring of vehicles raced until they were almost indistinguishable as single points of light. The dead Engine began to move away from Eos, out of orbit. The peculiar halo of circling EVA vehicles was apparently acting like some sort of catapult or energy funnel.

Tommy Rosales suddenly said,
"I'm getting an infrared signature deep inside the Engine amidships. Very small but it's definitely there."

"It probably hasn't cooled down all the way yet," Ben said.

"Maybe it's a reactor fire,"
Tommy Rosales said.
"Ix! Maybe that's why they're in such a hurry to get rid of the damn thing."

George Clock began to pull the extended observation pod down as the Engine and its fairy entourage moved past Eos, retracting the pod so as not to attract any attention.

"Look!" Ben said. "Look what's following the Engine!"

Behind the fairy-ringed Engine escort appeared small, erratically moving lights, much, much smaller than the smallest EVA craft. These came almost out of nowhere as if they had been trailing the giant university at a great distance and were only now catching up. These "lights" humans had seen before, but no one knew what they were.

"Wakesprites!"
George Clock said.
"Look at them go!"

Wakesprites were a peculiar side effect of Engine acceleration. They mysteriously appeared just as Engines revved up for transition into trans-space and pursued Engine-driven ships when they raced off. What they were, no one knew. Not even the Enamorati. Their best guess was that Wakesprites-called
moira
by the Enamorati-were a product of trans-space insertion, an aftereffect of trans-space engagement.

The halo-shrouded Engine suddenly shot off straight toward the sun, taking the madly racing ring of EVA craft with it. The wake-sprites followed as well.

"Wait a minute! Were there Enamorati In those EVAs?"
George Clock asked.
"You think they sacrificed their priests?"

"Unless the EVAs were being remotely piloted," Ben said. "On the other hand, if they weren't,
that means they engage in blood sacrifice."

"Get us back inside," Jim Vees said.

"You got it,"
George Clock said.

The observation module jerked with a sharp, rearward jolt as Clock retracted them back into the Astronomy blister of the ship a little too fast for Ben's tastes. "Hey, asshole," Ben quipped. "We're not in
that
much of a hurry. Slow down! This has got to look robotic and casual."

There was no response. The pod bumped and jounced violently.

Ben stared at Jim, whose brown eyes were slowly filling with panic. Ben felt his stomach sink.

The pod finally retracted and locked itself back into place inside the blister. Atmosphere hissed into the pod and the seal was then popped open.

Standing at the open door to the pod were Lieutenant Fontenot and elements of campus security. Standing behind them were High Auditor Joseph Nethercott and two junior Auditors, Orem Rood among them.

George and Tommy were already in handcuffs.

"Hello, Bombardiers," Fontenot said, looking directly at Benjamin. "End of the line."

17

Albert Holcombe brooded. His latest wayhigh was running low and it would be a while before he could take the next one, unless he wanted to endanger his health. Heart disease had long ago been eliminated by medical science, but no one knew what wayhighs did to neural cells, they were so new to pharmacology.

From his chair in his office, he gazed at the wall-sized 2D screen, pondering the vast Earth-like world below.
So many worlds to explore, so little time….

The other viewscreens, those of cameras facing the rear of the ship, had been switched off. The Enamorati had notified Captain Cleddman that they were going to proceed with their
Makajaa
ceremony and Cleddman, in turn, accommodated them by locking the service bays and the gondola bays for the duration of the sacred ceremony.
Yes,
he thought.
Very sacred. .. and very secret.

The entire Human Community needed a wayhigh, he thought bitterly, a jolt to get it moving again. Books and scientific articles had been written on the Ennui, but no psychologist, sociologist, or philosopher could get a handle on it. It remained evasive, and still humanity slept. And the Ainge, he thought, were part of the cause, not the cure. "Be in the world, but not
of
the world" was their credo. There was a countersaying among the Gentiles: "A laughing Auditor is an Auditor a day away from excommunication." It was so true. Holcombe had never seen his father-or any of his many uncles-laugh. Ever. Rumor had it that the First Prophet Ixion Smith never laughed, even as a baby. He had just been happy to have arrived to do his work-which was serious work indeed. Holcombe couldn't remember feeling this bleak in his life. He picked up a secure fax that had just arrived. It was from Nolan Porter, the real inspiration of his present mood. The fax was a response to a request from Bishop Nethercott, who had respectfully requested that no science teams go down to the planet's surface until the new Engine was installed, which could take weeks. Nolan Porter acquiesced without consulting any faculty member or even Captain Cleddman.

The fax reeked of Ainge influence. They were the only group of humans to actually venerate the Enamorati. After all, hadn't Ixion Smith
proven
the existence of God? Hadn't Smith
found
the realm within which He lived? Didn't this almost require a privileged relationship between the Ainge auditors-humanity's "Listeners-to-God"-and the Enamorati?

"Blow me," Holcombe said, wadding up the fax and tossing it into a nearby waste chute. Tomorrow, six research gondolas would be leaving Eos as planned, and the only person who could stop them was Captain Cleddman, not Nolan Porter.

Holcombe stepped out of his office and walked to the faculty lounge, thinking to get a bite to eat. Wayhighs tended to burn calories and often required a person to seek immediate replenishment before torpor set in.

He heard a transit-portal chime ring out. He was the only one on the floor and he found it odd that anyone would be transitting to the department now that classes had been canceled.

Somebody started calling his name frantically. "Professor Holcombe! Professor Holcombe!"

Before he could respond, Julia came running into the lounge.

"Dr. Holcombe!" she said. "They've arrested Ben and his friends! It's all over the university!"

"I hadn't heard this. What did they do?"

Julia gulped air. "Campus security says that Ben saw the Engine being removed. About thirty minutes ago."

"It's all over the university?"

"Two reporters from the student newspaper followed campus security to the astronomy department's telescope pod bays. There was a fight and they say campus security beat them up!"

Holcombe activated the wall screen in the lounge. Instead of the menu appearing, what he got were four pages of
The Alley Revolutionary.

"What's this?" he asked.

"It's the student newspaper. They figured out how to run the newspaper without the need for a printing press," Julia said. "They've got an illegal tap into the computer's main com system. This way everybody gets the news whenever they log on."

"I'm impressed," Holcombe said.

The paper told of the capture of Benjamin Bennett and his friends, as well as the fight that ensued, a fight, the
Revolutionary
stressed, caused by exuberant members of campus security. One other detail emerged: The Auditors helped physically restrain the four boys. There were photographs of this: the sneaky reporters had shouldercams. Holcombe's rage went up a couple of degrees when he saw one photograph of Ben wrestling two Auditors to the ground, each of whom he had in a hammerlock.

"Those motherfuckers," Holcombe snarled. "So now the Auditors work for campus security. We've got to put an end to this nonsense."

They made for the nearest transit portal.

There might have been four Bombardiers in the detention cell, but the Accuser only had eyes for Ben.

An
Accuser.

Ben had never seen an Accuser before. He hadn't even known that the Enamorati had such a caste. The Accuser was of average Enamorati height, but his-
her? its?
-environment suit was made of a dark bluish chitinous substance hard enough to be body armor. Inside the alien's helmet, a collar concealed the creature's mouth and tiny nose, leaving only its small eyes exposed.

And all it did was stand outside their jail cell and stare.

Ben rose from the cot and stood at the bars of the jail cell. "If you've got something to say, you worthless piece of shit," he said angrily, "say it!"

The alien Accuser said nothing. It just stared at him.

Ben tried to grab the alien through the bars, but the Accuser was just inches out of reach. Ben turned around. "George, let me have the cot. I need something to poke this guy with."

Clock didn't move from the cot where he lay. He had bloody knuckles, a bruised rib, and a torn shirt. "No way am I sleeping on the fucking floor."

Ben turned to Tommy Rosales. "Tommy, help me take the cot apart. All I need is something long enough to get this guy."

Dour Rosales was sitting calmly on the floor. He had two black eyes. "You want to add 'destruction of university property' to whatever else you've got coming? I don't think so."

Their captors were currently in the outer rooms debating on what to do with the Bombardiers; what sorts of punishments to levy; and what they could do to keep the Enamorati Compact. Their grumbling voices could be heard like distant thunder, the Fates at work building the scaffold of the Bombardiers' doom.

"I thought you said we wouldn't be caught," Ben said to Jim Vees, who was standing against the far wall, hands behind his back. He looked like St. Sebastian.

Vees was their noncombatant. He had gone quietly. "My mistake. Sorry."

"But how did they catch us?" Ben asked.

Vees pursed his lips and looked away. "Nethercott read my mind. They say all Auditors have that skill. All those years in their Auditor boxes …"

"What are you talking about?" Ben asked.

Jim looked at him. "If they can read minds, then we might be in more trouble than I thought."

"Well,
that's
good to know," Ben said.

At that juncture, several individuals emerged through the door that led to the detention center. The group included Professor Holcombe, Julia Waxwing, Lieutenant Fontenot, and several of his staff-but no Ainge Auditors. The security staff had crowd-stunners in their hands. They came directly for the cell in which the Bombardiers languished.

Then the newcomers saw the Accuser.

Julia fell back. "What is
that?"
she burst out.

Ben watched everyone's response to the creature.

"This is an 'Accuser,'" Ben said, hands dangling through the bars of his cell door. "But it doesn't do much of anything except stare at us."

More people were crowding in the corridor beyond. Two reporters from the nonexistent student newspaper were among them. Their shouldercams craned upward like cobras to get a better view.

Dr. Holcombe faced Lieutenant Fontenot. "I want these men released. I'm posting bail, whatever it is."