DSS Vincent Capozza, David's Star, Tisha b'Av (9 Av) 2541 AS

22.7 megaseconds since the catastrophe

If Jonathan Donato, Admiral of the Outbound, had been forced to name his mood at this moment, the only word that would have suited would be, "cranky".

He had reasons enough.

Start with the broad crisis. David's Star was not a signatory to the Tau Ceti treaty. This fact had proven a blessing in disguise, since it meant that their technical base had never been brought into harmony with that organization. This, in turn, meant that David's Star suffered only a glancing blow from the AI rampage that led to the destruction of most of the Tau Ceti fleet's ships and city-stations.

None of which had made it "somebody else's problem." Once Zephyr had arrived with as much news of the catastrophe as they had at the time, it had become his problem. The long-term mission of the Outbound was the survival of all humanity in the diaspora. He was not merely Admiral of the David's Star Republic Navy. He was Admiral of the Outbound. He and the Governor General had immediately devoted DSR's resources to the investigation.

Now it was clear that, even if he had taken a more parochial attitude toward the crisis, his more immediate charge was also involved. The attack on the DSR had merely been different, slower, more subtle. The body count was lower, which he certainly could not complain about. But the fact remained that the green space that Newer York, New Anaheim, and New Albany all relied on was now badly compromised.

Layers and layers of contingency planning were a deep-seated cultural value since before Dream of Spring's keel was laid. It was a kind of defense in depth against unforeseen disaster. There were stockpiles of food—both real food and emergency rations of various kinds—in caches throughout the system. Even now, dozens of inspectors were fanning out to those stockpiles to ensure their readiness and lack of contamination. There were also dozens of smaller agricultural stations, and so far they seemed to have escaped the attack, as had Revi'i.

Add all this to the news out of Thessalia, and it was clear that someone had been running a long game to disrupt everyone at once, or as close to "at once" as relativity allowed. There remained the open question as to why the TCTO had been hit so much harder, but the fact remained that someone wanted everybody focused on their own problems, unable to coordinate.

Well, he had no intention of allowing that part of their scheme to succeed, and neither did the others. But he needed more resources. He needed Captain Erasmus to get his ass back here with Buzz Aldrin so he could get him and at least some of his crew aboard the newer, faster Vincent Capozza. He needed whatever news Erasmus could add to the bigger picture.

And he deeply itched to do something. Anything more than just co-ordinate. This was one of those moments he genuinely hated being an admiral and not still just a captain.

It was weird to say he envied young Commander Singer. He would not wish what she and her crew had been through on anybody. But she had a command. He had a desk.

Except right now. Right now he had a command of sorts. Vincent had been ready for shakedown, and Erasmus wasn't back. Now, Donato was giving Vincent his sublight shakedown delivering inspectors to stockpiles and ag stations, commanding the ship personally.

Which was great, but didn't really offset that he really needed Erasmus here.

And to top it all off, he was hungry, not because of rationing, but because it was Tisha b'Av. Few would credit him with any degree of observance of the old faith, but fast days still called to him for some reason, even if he rarely spent them at prayer of any kind.

With Vincent currently pacing one of the ag stations, even being in command wasn't particularly diverting just now. He was considering turning the watch over to his exec and hitting the gym when he saw the comm officer reach for their board.

He waited. A moment later, the officer, Lieutenant Marshfield, said, "Relay from Tower, Admiral. They say Aldrin has arrived. They also pass along a two word summary from Captain Erasmus."

What those two words were, however, seemed to stick in Marshfield's throat. Donato gave them a minute, which stretched almost to two before he finally said, "Well?"

"Yes sir. Two words: 'Black Twenty'."

Donato's throat was suddenly dry. "Black Twenty" was an index out of the Contingency Files, handed down from the Founders. It was part of that defense in depth, a compilation of every scenario humans had ever imagined for things that could go wrong in a space-based community. The fungal infection DSR was now experiencing, for example, was Green Five.

Marshfield's hesitation showed they had studied the files. Most officers had, but not everyone took them seriously.

Donato managed to croak out, "Are we on the right side of the orbit to talk direct?"

"Yes, sir."

"Make it happen. I'll take it in the briefing room. Joe," he turned to his exec, "you've got the watch."

"Sure do, Admiral!" Yosef ben Yosei was not known for his adherence to protocol. But then, honestly, the DSR "navy" was even less of a true military operation than the TCTF was.

Had been. Dammit.

The light tone was almost certainly forced. Ben Yosei knew the Files as well as anyone. He was telling his CO that he had the ship in hand so Donato could go deal with the crisis.

So he did.

On screen in the briefing room, Captain Erasmus looked haggard and weary, and something else it took Donato a moment to pin down.

Haunted.

Black Twenty.

There was just enough lag that it was going to be a bit more like exchanging email than a conversation, and Erasmus wasted no time opening the ball.

"Admiral, I regret my tardiness. Herewith is my summary report. The detailed written report has already been transmitted and should be in your queue.

"Aldrin made starfall at New China, as a planned port call on our way home. What we discovered made us honestly hesitate to come home at all, on the fear that we were contaminated and could bring the vector home with us. Fortunately, New China's tech base is sufficiently different. So far, there is no evidence of contagion. Despite this, I strongly recommend an ongoing quarantine for Buzz Aldrin.

"Every station in the system was gone, replaced by clouds of nanots. New China itself, the planet, is in the process of being consumed. A true Grey Goo scenario is in progress. No intact system, archive, or person remained to interrogate as to what triggered the event, and we were, as you'll understand, unwilling to risk collecting samples to try to ascertain. The New Chinese are—were—of course known for going further with nanotechnology than most of the diaspora. At this time, we assume that something went haywire and spread rapidly.

"We had originally intended to send a report back via the TCTO's relay network, and remain at a greater distance for quarantine. Several of their nodes should have been on our path home, including one at New China itself. All appeared to be gone or at least offline. We are only just assimilating the news packet received at system login and see that they've suffered their own catastrophe. Should I encounter any of their surviving officers, I owe them an apology for some very unpleasant things I thought about their maintenance of their communication network.

"At any rate, lacking alternatives, we finally resolved that we had to risk coming home to deliver the news. We remain in orbit at twice the usual distance from the heliopause, and will continue here unless ordered otherwise."

A green dot appeared in one corner to let Donato know Erasmus was done for now and that he was "on". He allowed his own distress at the news to be seen, not least of which to cover for how long it was taking him to find words.

"Captain, I'm genuinely glad you're home, and appreciate your efforts to mitigate risks." He took a deep breath before the next part, hating what he had to say. "Unfortunately, I have to agree with your suggestion that Aldrin remain at a distance in quarantine for the time being. This is a problem on several levels, not least being that I had been intending to practically throw you at the captain's chair here aboard Vincent as soon as you got here. Guess that's not happening now. I know you were expecting Baldursdottir, but Hannah got here first and we needed to get her back out there fast. We're expecting her own next check-in soon.

"So that you don't feel like you're out there twiddling your thumbs for the next several weeks, I want you and your people analyzing every shred of data we're going to send you. It's not like we don't have people already doing so, but we need more eyes on the problem. You may have seen something else out there, including whatever you saw at New China, that puts some piece of the puzzle into a context we hadn't considered.

"Pay particular attention to what we're calling the 'big signal'. There's a genuine time-compression broadcast going on. We don't know where from, yet—we're still trying to triangulate it. We have no idea where they're getting the power for such a thing. It carried instructions that triggered the TCTO's catastrophe, and it's still going on, carrying opaque-seeming nonary packets we've had no luck with, yet. Again, it's something we need more eyes and minds on.

"Let me know how you stand for provisions. If you need us to send a pod out with rations, we can do that. Beyond that...ask. We'll see what we can do that feels safe enough. My gut tells me that all of this is probably unnecessary, but if you'd asked me six months ago, I'd have said my gut told me no catastrophe of this extent was possible, let alone likely. We've gotten complacent when we thought we were still vigilant, and if it sounds like I'm kicking myself for it, it's because I've practically sprained my knee doing so since Zephyr first made starfall here with the TCTO's news.

"I may have more for you soon, but for now, your orders are to sit tight and assimilate the rest of the news while we assimilate yours. Donato clear on your final."

There was an expected pause, including facial expressions as Erasmus digested the news and his orders. Even the current situation could not quite keep disappointment off Erasmus' face, for example, when he heard the news that Baldursdottir had gone to bat Chaya. Finally, he responded, "Understood, Admiral, on all points. We stand ready to serve however we might. Erasmus clear."

The screen went dark. Donato's skin was crawling. Like every Spacer for millennia, his own system was full of nanots, mostly providing the smart immune system that was as necessary as the artificial magnetosphere every ship and station generated for survival in the diaspora. The fungal blight that had struck the DSR was almost certainly permitted—not caused, but permitted—by a weakening of similar protections amongst the growing things. Now, it seems that someone had done the same to a human community.

He understood why Erasmus seemed haunted. If someone knew how to do these things, every human being was one malicious signal away from dissolving into a cloud of nanots. It was a nightmare humans had been having since the earliest conception of nanotech, and now, someone had made it real.

He looked up at the wall, where a portrait of the actual Vincent Capozza hung. A slim, slight person with dark hair and piercing eyes. He hadn't been an admiral or even a governor. He'd been a detective in a world that barely knew crime, who ultimately wound up tasked with solving the great mystery of his own day. He had died convinced that Earth's final collapse, even the super-flare that had scorched humanity's cradle, was part and parcel of the events that had kept David's Star off balance.

Now, it was happening again. Someone—maybe the same people, maybe not—was using the same kind of playbook. Someone was willing to commit atrocities to distract everyone from...what? That was the question, of course. What was so big that everything that had happened might only be a distraction?

He needed to confer with the other people involved. Buzz Aldrin's need to remain quarantined but near-system might actually have solved that problem. Erasmus was on the short list for possible successors to the admiralty, after all.

He reached out to controls on the table and had the comm officer set up a call to Governor Silverman.

She was going to hate everything about this.