Free Orphans of Earth by Sean Williams, Shane Dix

tides. Do you think it’s possible?”
    “Possible, yes. Likely?” She shrugged. “I don’t know.”
    Within five minutes, they found four more fragments of varying sizes and a spreading band of rubble that might have become an asteroid belt in an ordinary system. Here, the intense and variable solar wind was causing all sorts of havoc. The fragments were being blasted by radiation and particle winds more dense than anything the planets of Sol would have experienced, even during the worst solar storms. The larger fragment closer in was being blown apart by the wind as much as by the tides, while those farther out were in the process of losing significant percentages of their atmosphere every hour, hence the striking tails trailing away from the primary. Within a few decades, it would all be gone; Alander and Hatzis had timed their visit just right for a truly cosmic spectacle.
    It was only while studying the details of the rubble cloud that Alander noticed the tiny flashes of light winking and darting through the debris.
    “Do you see that,” he asked, “or are my eyes playing tricks on me?”
    This time, Hatzis got up to take a closer look at the expanded image. “Little ships,” she said breathlessly. “Fuck, Peter, there’s somebody here!” “But that’s not possible, surely? I mean, none of the other missions built ships like that.”
    Their eyes met for a second; she wasn’t alarmed yet, but she was ready to be. “Perhaps you should start broadcasting your hellos, now.”
    Before she could open her mouth, an alert sounded.
    “Proximity alert,” said Pearl, its voice even-toned but urgent.
    “Where?” Hatzis demanded.
    The view changed to point at the sun, but there was nothing visible.
    “ Pearl, what the hell are we meant to be looking—?”
    “Wait,” said Alander, taking her arm. “There!”
    At the center of the star was a slightly different white from the rest of its surface, and the discolored patch was growing rapidly, spreading like a stain. It looked to Alander as though something impossibly white was rushing toward them. Or—
    The hole ship exploded out of the screen, perfectly white and perfectly spherical, completely visible only once it had grown larger than the star behind it. The smaller, black sphere of its cockpit spun around it like a bola, trailing sparkling motes in its wake.
    “Impact alert,” Pearl warned.
    “Can we dodge it?” asked Hatzis, staring fixedly at the screen as the hole ship swelled to fill it.
    “Taking evasive action,” said the AI. Pearl relocated, but not before a swarm of motes emitted by the attacking hole ship rattled across its hull. There was a sound like hail falling on a tin roof.
    “Are we damaged?” she asked, alarmed.
    “No.”
    “But we were attacked?”
    “From the data available,” reported the AI, “the best answer to that question would be yes.”
    “What the hell is going on?” said Hatzis to no one in particular. She was prowling anxiously around the couch, glancing at the screen in anticipation of them reentering real space. When they did, it was barely a kilometer away from their departure point, and the hostile hole ship was nowhere to be seen.
    “ Pearl, broadcast the following message,” said Hatzis. “This is Caryl Hatzis of UNESSPRO Mission one five four hailing UNESSPRO Mission six six six. We are peaceful envoys representing the survivors of Sol system. Do you read me? I repeat: we are peaceful envoys representing the survivors of Sol system. Please cease all hostilities immediately, or—”
    The hole ship reappeared at frighteningly close quarters, emitting another wave of the sparkling darts. They struck with the same furious staccato as before but again did little more than cause the floor to vibrate beneath them.
    “Or what?” asked Alander dryly.
    Before Hatzis could reply, the attack abruptly ceased. The attacking hole ship stopped dead before them, its midnight black cockpit orbiting rapidly around a