by Chris Walley
For a fraction of a second, Merral thought that the reference was to someone else. Then he turned to see a young man dressed in blue.
“Yes, I’m Merral D’Avanos. Can I help?” As he said it, Merral realized that a decisive “What do you want?” would have been more in keeping with his rank. Oh well, he would learn.
“Sir!” The young man saluted again. “Sentinel Enand wants to see you, promptlike. There’s a problem. This way.”
With a nod and a shrug to Anya, Merral followed.
An evidently agitated Vero was waiting by a four-seater. “We have a difficulty at the entrance. It can be handled, but I’ll need your help. Get in. I’ll explain as we go.”
Carefully, Vero turned the vehicle through the equipment and set off toward the line of wire they had come through earlier.
“The problem is,” Vero said, “that two people from the Menaya news team have turned up. They have seen the Emilia Kay and the activity and—quite naturally—want to see what is going on.”
“Vero, that could be disastrous! I mean, everybody on the planet will know.” Merral looked at the activity behind him. “We can’t disguise this. What can we do? Can we make them promise not to tell?”
Vero frowned and shook his head, “They would still know and it might get out. We could get it banned temporarily through Corradon. But that raises monumental constitutional issues. There is another way.”
“How?”
A look of cunning flickered over Vero’s face and then disappeared beneath a bland gaze of innocence. “Ah, secret. No, you introduce yourself as the ‘head of what is going on here’—now use that exact phrase—and then designate me as the person who will talk to them. With my accent they may be uneasy about me, but if you back me that will be acceptable. Then get back to the vehicle and stay out of earshot.”
“Why?”
Vero winked. “I just don’t want you standing by when I talk. Trust me.”
Merral had seen enough reporters at sports matches, weddings, and festivals to recognize the type, especially when they carried the trademark recording gear on their belts as this young man and woman did. The way they were sitting cross-legged on the ground suggested the sort of dedication associated with reporters who refused to leave the stadium without interviewing the losing captain.
Merral walked over, shook hands, and introduced himself by name, but without mentioning his rank, and then introduced Vero to them. As he walked back to the four-seater, he saw that Vero had gotten the reporters into a huddle with him as if they were discussing something confidential. A few minutes later, the group broke up with the shaking of hands, and Vero walked back with an awkward smile on his face.
“Back to work,” Vero said and then, whistling tunelessly, lowered himself into the driving seat and switched on the engine.
“So what did you say?”
Still whistling, Vero set the vehicle rolling back toward the freighter where the painting machine had now risen above the wings. Only when the four-seater had sped up did he speak. “Promise you won’t be angry?”
“No,” Merral replied suspiciously. “I will probably be furious. What did you say?”
“Ah . . . I told them the truth. In a, well . . . modified form. I told them that there was a group being set up to carry out rescue operations within Farholme, in the event of forest fires, earthquakes, volcanoes, and other perils. To do the sort of things that the Assembly would normally send ships for.”
“Good grief—”
Vero continued as if he hadn’t heard Merral’s expostulation. “But, I said, we were keeping it secret because we didn’t want to alarm everybody. As everybody was already concerned about the Gate loss, we didn’t want to make it worse. So I asked them not talk about it. Not yet. And they were persuaded.”
Merral could barely believe what he was hearing. “Vero! You lied to them!” he shouted. “Completely and utterly!”
The response, when it eventually came, was thoughtful and restrained. “Hmm, that’s open to debate. You see my definition of ‘perils’ was sufficiently broad that it would allow for the invasion of hostile aliens. Or similar. And my definition of ‘rescue’ was, likewise, broad.”
“But, Vero, you fell well below the standards of openness and truth that we have always held to. Far below.”
“Yes, well, remember Rahab the whore in Joshua, chapter 2—one of those Old Covenant stories we pass over quickly with children?”
“That? . . . That was in the bad old days.”
“Merral,” Vero replied, with a tone of exaggerated weariness, “wake up! See those robot arms climbing over the top of the dear old Emilia Kay? It’s painting her in camouflage. We are loading her now with explosive charges and guns. These are the preparations for war. As captain of operations it would be a help if you acknowledged this.” Vero threw Merral a look that was somehow both critical and sympathetic. “See, my friend, the bad old days are back.”
Back at the Emilia Kay, Merral decided the best thing he could do was stay out of the way and try and master what he was going to be responsible for. So he made himself comfortable in a patch of shade in the back of an empty LP4 and spent some hours alternatively reading the leader’s handbook and then flicking through the folder with its details of the men he was commanding. Some things, he was glad to see, had already been done. The assignment of seven lieutenants and sergeants and the heads of medical, logistics, and communication teams had also been made. Vero, he saw, had even made a choice of someone as chaplain. As a starter, Merral decided to memorize those names, faces, and details.
So, as the afternoon passed, he tried to get his mind around the immensity of what he was shortly going to have to undertake. The only relief he took was that, every so often, he emerged from his shaded seat to walk up to the ship and see how progress was being made. On one visit, Vero came over to him accompanied by a man with a familiar open face, carrying a holdall.
“Lorrin Venn,” Merral said, extending his hand to the tall man with the pale brown hair and green eyes. “Nice to see you. Still working in support?”
Lorrin smiled, as if anxious to please. “Sir, that was what I’ve come about. I was wondering if I could be released from that, just for a week, and come and join a team. It was my first choice. I know it’s late. But I have my gear with me.” He looked plaintively at Vero, as if for support.
“He meets the physical requirements,” Vero said. “And we could use some spare men. But it’s up to you.”
“So, Lorrin, you know that it may be unpleasant. Even dangerous?”
Lorrin nodded urgently. “It’s really what I want, sir. It’d be neat. I know Zak. Maybe I could be on his team?”
Merral stared at Vero, hoping for assistance, but found that his friend was looking away. He wants me to make the decision myself.
“Very well, Lorrin. I would imagine we can use you. Get Sentinel Vero here to assign you to a squad when we get to Tanaris. See you on the flight.”
“Yeah! Thank you, sir!” the man said, eagerness written across his face. Then he gave a sharp salute, turned, and beginning to whistle happily, left the ship.
Merral, watching him depart, shook his head in amusement, and turned to Vero. “Was that okay?”
“Yes. I suppose so.”
“You don’t sound convinced. Why wasn’t he put on one of the contact teams first? He’s a nice guy. There’s a contagious happiness about that man.”
“Yes, isn’t there? I refused because he’s an only child. We have made no ruling on it. But I thought . . .”
“I see . . . ,” Merral responded slowly, realizing that Vero expected not just fighting but also loss of life. Chastened, he returned to his seat in the back of the transporter and, preoccupied with unhappy thoughts, stared blankly at his notes for some time.
Late in the afternoon, Merral looked up to see Dr. Clemant, his neat dark suit and carefully parted hair making him conspicuous among the sweaty, dirty, and increasingly disheveled men and women
laboring around the Emilia Kay. The advisor stared at the ship in a thoughtful manner for some time before coming over to Merral.
“Good afternoon, Captain,” he said.
“Advisor, good afternoon.” Merral said, leaping down from the transporter. “How are you?”
“Well, thank you. I thought I’d come and have a look at the preparations. I have followed the planning closely.”
“I’m sure,” Merral said. “I don’t know about you, but I’m awed by everything that has been done.”
Clemant’s eyes scanned the busy scene ahead carefully before answering. “Yes, it is a remarkable achievement. But—alas—it is not here that the plans will be tested.”
“True.”
There was a long silence. “I came to see you, Captain. I thought it right to do so.” Merral felt there was a stiffness in the way Clemant spoke that hinted he wanted to say something.
“Thank you.”
“I am truly delighted that you have accepted the task of leading the approach.”
“I am less enthusiastic.”
“I understand.” Clemant continued to stare at the Emilia Kay. “Captain, let me say that no one is more anxious than me that this operation succeed.”
“Thank you again,” Merral said.
“You see . . . I know this planet well. It is my business; my life. I have my finger on its pulse and . . . ” The advisor paused, stared stiffly at the ground, and when he looked up, Merral could see the fear in his eyes. “And frankly, I am scared.”
“By what?” Merral asked, surprised by Clemant’s candor.
“By the sense that it is all unraveling.”
“I see. . . .”
“Do you?” Clemant said, and Merral was struck by the bluntness of the question. The advisor’s pale face colored slightly. “I’m sorry,” he said awkwardly. “I find it hard to express myself properly these days; it seems to come out wrong. No offense meant. What I mean is . . . ” His words faltered for a second. “What I mean is this: as a world we have been bound together by grace and goodwill. But faced with a return of evil, that may not be enough. In the last month, I have been reading about the past.” His eyes closed briefly as if he was in pain. “I have read and watched horrors. The Plague Wars, the destructions, the burning cities, the victims . . .” The advisor shook his head and fell silent. As he continued, his eyes bore a strangely intense expression. “And each new incident here is another point on a graph that marks out a trajectory. And, Captain, I have seen where it is heading.”
Somewhat shaken by the analysis, Merral found himself denying it. “It may not be that bad. There is an enormous resilience here.”
Clemant gave him a cold, shrewd look as if to say, I know you don’t believe that. “Perhaps. I hope you are right. But you do see that we have no barriers? no defenses? no structures to protect us?”
Merral struggled with the concepts. “I suppose so. We don’t have such things.”
Clemant’s dark eyes stared at him. “I am from Kelendara. In your former profession you will have heard of our town.”
“Indeed, the big forest fires of ’22.”
“I was a teenager then and I watched the hillsides burn for weeks. You know the verdict of the investigation?”
“I read it at college. The firebreaks weren’t wide enough; the first fires weren’t tackled fast enough.”
“Yes.” The advisor’s expression suddenly showed a deep concern. “Farholme is like those forests, only worse—there are no firebreaks. We have seen sparks: Larrenport, Ynysmant, Ilakuma, and who knows where else? If they catch . . . ” His eyes seem to stare into an infinite void. “We will lose everything. Everything.”
Merral, troubled by the vision, said nothing.
“You talked to Anwar last night, I gather?” Clemant said, and Merral knew he referred to something more than an ordinary conversation.
“I did.”
“I worry about him. I think he’s close to the limit of what he can take. In a storm, some trees bend and recover while others snap, do they not, Captain? And which is our representative?”
“I’ve never applied the analogy to human beings, Dr. Clemant.”
“Perhaps wisely so. But if this tree breaks, we are in trouble.” Clemant shook his head, and the expression on his face returned to one of inscrutability. He looked at the ship.
“So,” he said, and his voice was less intense, “I came to encourage you. To urge you on. We need that ship. More than you can imagine. We need to be reconnected to the Assembly, and fast.”
“I will do what I can,” Merral said. “Everyone I have met here is totally committed to doing their task.”
“Good.” Clemant stared at the ground, and Merral felt there was something else he wanted to say. “There is one other thing,” Clemant said finally, looking up at him, a new expression in his dark gray eyes.
“Please.”
“I don’t know how to say this, but I have a concern.”
“Go ahead.”
“I hope—as we all do—that diplomacy will work. That they, whoever they are, will say, ‘Sorry, it was all a misunderstanding.’ ” He paused, and Merral knew that he didn’t have the slightest faith that this would be the case. “But, Captain,” Clemant continued, “if you do have to attack, I want you to be firm.”
“I see. In what way?”
He shrugged. “I cannot say exactly; I do not know what will happen. But I don’t want you to be overly cautious. Increasingly, I see this evil as a cancer in our world. It needs to be dealt with.” He hesitated. “You may need to be a surgeon, Captain.”
“Another interesting image, Advisor,” Merral said, thinking that, in fact, he found it a very disturbing one.
Then, apparently embarrassed by what he had said, Clemant opened his hands wide in a dismissive gesture. “Well, that’s just my view. But I do apologize for taking up your time.”
“Advisor, it was very helpful to hear your concerns.”
Clemant seemed slightly embarrassed. “Thank you. I felt I needed to express them.” He looked around. “Oh, I was also looking for Zachary Larraine. You know him?”
“Zak? He’s on Tanaris.”
“Ah, I should have checked.”
“But how do you know him? Oh, wait, he’s from Kelendara too.”
“That’s right. I know his parents slightly. That’s all. Incidentally, Professor Habbentz is at the ship and mentioned she would like to see you.”
“Gerry? I’ll go and find her.”
“Do so. Well, I must go.” Clemant’s smile as he extended a hand seemed weak. “I will be praying for your success.”
They shook hands and the advisor walked away. Merral found himself watching the neat departing figure with a great deal of unease. He sighed and then turned and made his way to the ship.
Gerry Habbentz’s tall frame and long, flowing black hair made her easy to find.
“Hi, Merral,” she said with enthusiasm as he walked over to where she stood staring at the ship. “Good to see you again. I hear you are a captain now.”
Merral shrugged. “I am still working out what that means.”
“You’ll learn.” She grinned, and Merral felt that some of the strain she had borne when they had last met had lifted.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
“I was at the airport and I came to say farewell to Perena. She flew us to the lab last time. And we’ve talked about this intruder ship. If you seize it, I’m down to view the engines.”
“I’m hoping we are going to have a guided tour from the crew.”
“Yeah. Really. You don’t believe that, do you?” Her dark eyes glinted.
“I try to, Gerry. But it’s hard. How’s the physics?”
“Well, your message went. As you know. Whether it was received is another matter.” Her face clouded. “Like a lot of other people, I am coming to terms with isolation.” She wrinkled her face in an expression of dislike. “And separation.”
; “Sorry. And the research?”
Her face brightened. “The research is, well, promising. Yeah, promising will do.”
“Good. Any progress to understanding how the intruders got here?”
“Perhaps. We have been working on the math of the Normal-Space to Below-Space boundary. It is very technical, but we have been trying to see how you could make a ship that could enter and leave Below-Space without using a Gate. We have some ideas. Let’s say no more at the moment.”
“Just be careful about exploring Below-Space. Please?”
“The Argo business, right? Perena told me.” Her hair flew about as she shook her head. “No problem. We are a long way from creating any physical model. But anyway, this is a fine place and time to talk about risk, right? Look at that!” She gestured to a box marked Explosives! in big red letters being wheeled carefully past them.
“Point taken.”
Gerry looked longingly at the Emilia Kay. “Oh, I wish I was going with you guys. Incidentally, did Lucian Clemant find you?”
“Yes. How do you know him?”
“Easy; our research has to go through him. He approves most things. But he keeps an eagle eye on what is going on. He’s been very encouraging.”
“I can imagine.”
“Hey, look who’s here.” She pointed to Vero, picking his way between the few remaining boxes.
Vero came over and hugged Gerry.
“Good to see you, Prof. But it’s a brief meeting. Merral, it’s soon going to be time to get on board.”
“Okay, guys, I must go. I find my hair responds badly to rocket exhaust. But do me a favor, Captain.”
“What?”
“I hope, like you, it’s a peaceful encounter, but I kinda doubt it.” Her brown eyes seemed to become frosty. “But you take that ship. I want to see it. I want to know how they do it, and I want to ride that ship back out of here. Please.”
“It seems a popular request,” Merral murmured.
Gerry’s fingers clenched tight. “And if these animals get in the way, don’t be too squeamish. You give it to them from me. Okay?”
As she walked away, Vero and Merral looked at each other.