Usurper of the Sun by Housuke Nojiri

makes sense that it would be on the same plane as Mercury’s orbit,” the girl said. She cared much more than most of the callous journalists who began pouncing on Aki once she was selected.
    Aki couldn’t help it. This girl wanted truths that were more complicated than her rehearsed script had room for. Choosing her words carefully, Aki began a statement that was not on the list of approved and rehearsed replies.
    “Direct contact with an alien civilization has always been my dream. I regret that it is turning out this way. Everyone regrets that it is turning out this way. But I am participating in this mission because I hope it leads to a face-to-face encounter with the Builders.” Realizing that Aki was now speaking from her heart and not her press script, the reporter’s face went slack. There was an attenuated moment of silence.
    Finally, the girl asked, straying from her own rehearsed questions, “You really want to meet them in person ?”
    Aki looked at the confused expression on the reporter’s face and surprised herself by grinning. “Yes. I have to find a way. Just like how I have to figure out how to get there and back without being thrown away like any other piece of junk on that ship.”

ACT VIII: AUGUST 19, 2021

    THE TRANSPORT CAPSULE to the International Space Station did not have the luxury of a window. It was not until after docking and entering the habitation module that Aki finally got to see the vessel that would carry her and her crewmembers. A chill rushed over her. Motionless, she stared at the irregularly shaped silhouette that obscured the sun. The UNSS Phalanx . Costing over seventy billion dollars and, tragically, thirty-seven lives in the making, the Phalanx had drained precious resources while the rest of the planet froze and starved. She was the first nuclear-powered spaceship built by humankind—and she never would have come into existence if straits had not been dire.
    She measured an immense 130 meters in length and was fitted with twelve round propellant tanks, each stemming out in a different direction, attached by ribs that jutted from the ship’s spine. If the round tanks had been painted purple, the tanks would have looked like grapes on stems floating in space. The bow, which was covered with a silver thermal insulator, contained the unmanned probehound, a parabolic mirror acting as a light shield to protect the ship from solar radiation, and the cramped living quarters. The stern was crowned with the double NERVA III nuclear engines, attached to the hull via a thirty-meter truss.
    For the moment, a tanker, launched into space on a Titan V rocket, was docked alongside the propellant tanks and fueling up the last tons of RP-1, a kerosene fraction. Aki counted five people in space suits dangling from various parts of the ship’s exterior making last-minute adjustments.
    Two guided missiles earned the Phalanx the right to call herself a warship, and each missile had a five-megaton nuclear warhead. Five megatons. A spark of energy that is little more than a match head when compared to the stars , Aki thought. It was just another reminder that concerns on Earth seemed trivial from a sufficiently distant vantage point.
    “Refrain from getting your hopes up. A direct attack on the Ring by the Phalanx would be like trying to keep the ocean tide from rising by shoveling scoops of sand into the sea,” was the kind of comment made by critics. Even Aki was unconvinced that a direct attack would work, if it were even prudent to try.
    UNSDF Central Command, however, had lost any patience for pessimism and responded by saying, “Our most potent weapon is humanity itself. We believe in the crew of the Vulcan Mission without reservation.” After a brief ceremony that struck all four crewmembers as superfluous, the crew entered a long transparent tube and boarded the Phalanx . They floated through the airlock and into the crew area, a twelve-cubic-meter compartment that was the only