It was not a very reassuring line of thought to find himself being drawn along.
“Data update from Jevlen,” an operator sang out suddenly. Eubeleus swung to face him from the middle of the floor, his haste betraying a tenseness that he had been striving not to show. “The Shapieron is accelerating out of free-fall now. Readings indicate profile consistent with maximum ramp up to interstellar speed.”
It took Eubeleus a moment or two to register the fact fully. Then, gradually, the realization percolated through that his gamble had paid off. He let his tension dissipate slowly, savoring the feeling of relief flowing over him to take its place.
He had expected some delay, despite the harshness of his ultimatum, for there were bound to be deliberations between those aboard the vessel and whoever else they were in contact with. Their final submission, expressed in the form of the ship’s departure, would come only as a last resort. His worry had been that they would call what they thought to be a bluff and so force his hand, thereby necessitating what would have been a regrettably ugly note on which to begin the new regime. But now the danger was past.
“Our congratulations,” one of the others offered. “This is exactly the kind of unswerving will that the plan needs.”
Eubeleus dismissed the remark offhandedly, as if the fact should have been sufficiently obvious not to need voicing. “So much for their last, desperate attempt, which as you see, turns out to have been a mere distraction.” he said. “And now, back to our main task. Is JEVEX running now?”
“Fully functional, Excellency,” the familiar voice of JEVEX responded. Reassured looks passed between the others around the control center.
“Before we open the links to Jevlen, I want a final check that we are not registering any attempts at irregular access, either via the i-links, or through the conventional Jevlenese planetary system,” Eubeleus said. “I want the system fully secure on all counts.”
“Commencing core reintegration prior to connection to Jevlen,” JEVEX confirmed.
“Breakdown of Shapieron’s stress field is beginning,” the first operator called out. “Ship is decoupling from normal space … Delta index is fading. . . Last readings give acceleration as undiminished.”
At last Eubeleus felt safe, and he permitted a smile of triumph to play around the corners of his mouth for an instant. “It is time to proceed,” he announced. He turned to one of the aides. “I shall guide the Prophet personally, as intended. You watch here until Iduane returns.” He allowed his gaze to drift slowly over the company. “When we see each other again, Shiban will be ours.” Applause greeted his words. Eubeleus turned and left the room.
Meanwhile, in the blackness of space twenty thousand miles above
the surface of Jevlen, a tiny speck that the tracking sensors had missed in the disturbance from the starship’s departure emerged unseen from the electromagnetic upheaval and disappeared into the starry background.
“Probe away, on course, and checking positive,” ZORAC reported. “Well, that’s it,” Hunt said in the center of the Shapieron’s command deck as the screens showing the external views being picked up by the ship’s scanners blanked out. The vessel was now out of touch with the universe electromagnetically, its sole means of communication being by VISAR, using i-space.
“It’s out of our hands,” Danchekker agreed. “There’s nothing more we can do now but play out our role as decoys.” He thought for a moment and sighed. “It’s not an especially gratifying role to find oneself reduced to, considering what’s at stake. In the situations you’ve landed us in before, we have generally been able to contribute something more positive.”
Hunt was about to reply, but checked himself and looked at Danchekker oddly. “Well, that’s not exactly true, is it, Chris?”
“What do you mean?”
“It isn’t out of our hands—not exactly. A lot depends on what those surrogates who are still down in the’ Entoverse have managed to pull off. And they’re every bit as much ‘us’ as you and me, aren’t they—if what Calazar and the others are saying is correct?” He frowned and rubbed his chin, finding the thought as bemusing as the look on Danchekker’s face indicated that Danchekker himself did.