The Shadow and Night

by Chris Walley

  There was a faint noise to his right. He turned, somewhat stiffly, to see Vero, wearing casual clothes, working on his diary at a table. He looked up and gave Merral a tired but relieved smile.

  “So how do you feel?” Vero asked, pulling his chair over to the side of the bed.

  “As if I had exchanged one piece of armor for another.”

  “The two broken ribs. Some minor internal injuries, other wounds and blood loss. And incipient hypothermia. Fallambet Lake Five is not a place to swim, even on the edge of summer.”

  Merral lay there, images flashing through his mind. “I don’t remember coming here. The battle was when?”

  “Just over twenty-four hours ago. You were anesthetized to travel back. You were also exhausted.”

  He was aware of the equipment around him now. There were monitor screens at the edge of his vision, and he could feel the sensor straps on his ankle and neck.

  Vero looked drained.

  “The casualties?”

  Vero shook his head and was silent for a moment. When he spoke, his voice was burdened. “T-twenty men dead. And of the diplomatic crew, three are missing, assumed dead. That includes Erika and Louis as well as Fred Huang. We recovered the pilot alive but with some burns.”

  “Nate,” Merral said dully. “That was the pilot’s name.”

  “Another twenty wounded, including you. Some more serious. One may die.”

  “Oh, dear,” Merral said, and as he spoke, he realized how inadequate his words were. But then were any words adequate? One third of the attack force was dead or wounded. “I saw Lorrin Venn killed.”

  Vero nodded, and Merral thought there were tears in his eyes. “Yes. Philip Matakala told me.”

  “So Philip survived. And Frankie Thuron?”

  “Yes, but with injuries. Zak made it too.”

  “I thought Zak would.”

  “He fought well, the men said.”

  “I’m not surprised. And Barry Narandel? I saw him get his legs crushed.”

  “We got to him in time. They say he’ll walk again but never run.”

  Merral stared at the ceiling in silence for a long time. “I’m sorry. Desperately sorry. Sometime I want to see a list.”

  “Whenever you want.”

  “Thanks. And Perena and Anya are well?” Merral tried to keep his voice neutral.

  “Yes. I’m sure you will see both later. The Intruder ship, of course, is in a million fragments.” Merral looked at his friend and saw that he seemed to be staring into the distance. “I doubt we will recover much of value.”

  Merral realized how bitterly disappointed Vero was over the loss of the ship.

  “Yes. I wish we could have taken the ship. But we misjudged things, Vero, my friend. There were dozens of things on board.”

  Vero sighed. “Maybe a hundred. And other creatures.”

  “They were seen?”

  “Ah, you know something of this.” Vero gave him a sharp look. “It seems that just after you entered the ship a pack of creatures emerged and began to attack Frankie’s team. The reports speak of them as being like fierce dogs or lions, with claws and teeth. Intelligent, regimented, and quite unstoppable—”

  “Krallen.”

  “What?”

  “They are called Krallen. I met them. I will tell you about them. Another time.”

  “Ah. Anyway, just as they were about to overwhelm everybody, they suddenly turned and raced back to the ship. After that the resistance was only sporadic. When Perena arrived and the ship began to take off, what was left of the teams made a concerted attack.”

  “I see.”

  Vero frowned. “We—no I—made an intelligence error. The ship was bigger than we thought. We also assumed that their ships would carry the same numbers as a comparable ship of our own. But somehow there were far more. Their crew compartments must have been horribly crowded.”

  “Yes, I realize that. It was . . . an evil ship.”

  “So I imagine,” Vero said. Then he paused, a look of guilt on his face. “Do you think they were alerted?”

  Merral stared at the gauze curtains. “No. They may have realized that we were onto them, but thankfully, I don’t think the defenses were especially ready. If they had been, I don’t think any of us would have made it to the ship. We were very much the weaker party in numbers and weapons.”

  “I was worried that the business with Felicity might have been the cause of the casualties.”

  “Yes. But I’d say it wasn’t.”

  “Thanks.”

  “But, Vero,” Merral added, “we blundered into something that was beyond us all. There was worse on the ship than anything we feared. I met the thing in the chamber.”

  “The creature that attacked Felicity?”

  “That was there. I killed that. But there was also a being there. . . .” Merral realized that he didn’t want to talk about what he encountered.

  “Yes, you said things in your sleep.” Vero raised an eyebrow.

  “It was only that I—that we—had help that we didn’t have an utter disaster.”

  “That too, I gathered.”

  There was a knock at the door, and the tall, erect, and gray-suited figure of Representative Corradon entered the room. As he did, Merral caught a glimpse of two men in unfamiliar blue uniforms standing stiffly outside the door.

  “Sorry. I see that this is not a good time,” Corradon said with a tone of gentle apology. Merral felt that although the representative looked as if he had not slept for many days, his manner was composed and his expression very much that of a man in control. Vero stood up and made as if to leave.

  “I do need to see you, Sentinel,” Corradon said, clapping a large hand on Vero’s slight shoulder. “Could you wait outside?”

  Vero nodded and left, closing the door behind him.

  Corradon sat down in the chair by the bed. “I had a long chat with Vero yesterday. He feels very badly about the attack. So do I. But it could have all been much worse. Much worse.” Merral watched as the representative allowed himself the luxury of a faint, tentative smile of relief. “We didn’t get all we wanted. But we did win a victory.”

  “Of sorts,” Merral added.

  “True, but, Merral, we could have had this thing festering in the heart of Menaya forever. Anyway, first things first. On behalf of the people of Farholme, I want to thank you now. There will be other occasions, I have no doubt.”

  He extended a hand, and more as a courtesy than anything else, Merral shook hands carefully. He was certain he didn’t merit the gratitude.

  Corradon gave him a half smile. “I gather I can shake your hand. I was told, though, I shouldn’t make you laugh.”

  Merral allowed himself a sigh. “There is, I fear, sir, little danger of that.”

  The half smile faded away. “I’m sorry.”

  “So am I. There was a lot of bloodshed yesterday.”

  “Yes.” Corradon’s voice was soft and sad. “I gather that you should make a speedy recovery. How do you feel?”

  “Drained. I need to think through what I saw. There are things to do. And you, sir? How are you?”

  The representative considered matters for a moment. “I feel better than I did. Reassured, in some way. At midday today, I am broadcasting to the people of Farholme. And at least now I can tell them the truth: we were invaded and the Gate was destroyed, but the invaders have been routed.” He sighed. “Albeit at a high and sad cost. But at least the burden of secrecy is lifted.” He turned to look out of the window, and Merral saw his silhouette, confident and strong. The public profile; if you are to receive bad news, then you would want it from such a man.

  “But there are other things I have to announce,” Corradon said, sounding less assured. His strength and confidence seemed only skin-deep. “There are other things I have to say. Of new troubles . . .”

  He paused, seemed to struggle with his doubts, and his voice brightened. “Yes, I still desperately wish that I didn’t have this j
ob. But I have it and I will try and do it.”

  Merral found the determination in his voice encouraging.

  “Good.”

  “Thanks. The speech today will have about 100 percent attention. People are getting up especially for it over in Aftarena. And we are beaming the signal to Bannermene so that in a generation’s time it will go round the Assembly. I should warn you that your name will be mentioned in it. I will have to say that a hastily summoned task force under your leadership managed to destroy a superior force of invaders—”

  “Sir,” Merral interrupted, “I would prefer to be anonymous. Unless you wish to reveal how badly I handled things. I think we must be careful that the glory goes to God.”

  There was a slight nod of his head. “I understand. But I’m afraid I refuse the first part of your request. You can hardly be anonymous. And as to the second part, this coming Lord’s Day is to be a solemn day of gratitude for deliverance and for the remembrance of those who were lost. Today I will also give out the list of casualties.”

  Twenty dead, Merral thought bitterly and wondered if that would be any consolation to Lorrin’s parents or anybody else’s. But the implication of Corradon’s statement troubled him; once it was made, he would no longer be a private person.

  “But before I speak to our world,” Corradon continued, interrupting Merral’s thoughts, “I want to talk to you about what happened. On the ship. Are you willing to do that?”

  “Yes,” Merral said, after a moment. “But can I talk to both you and Vero about it? I don’t want to repeat myself.” He knew he had to speak about what had happened soon, and it might as well be to both Corradon and Vero at once.

  “Very well. I will get him.”

  Corradon rose from his chair and went to the door. He returned with Vero and a nurse.

  “Sorry, Merral,” the representative said, “medicine takes priority. This gentleman wants to see you. Vero and I need to talk anyway, so please excuse us.”

  Together they walked over to the window and out onto the balcony. As they pushed aside the flimsy curtains, Merral caught a glimpse of the gleaming blue sea. He had a sudden deep longing to walk lonely beaches on his own.

  The nurse helped Merral to sit up, asked him those questions that the machines couldn’t answer, and gave him a glass of medicated orange juice. Then, with a respectful glance at Corradon, he left, closing the door carefully behind him.

  With the nurse gone, the two men came back in and pulled up chairs around the bed. Vero’s face was troubled.

  Corradon turned to Merral. “Thank you. There are lots of questions. If we’d have known you were going to get on board we’d have put a shoulder camera on you. Now obviously at some stage there will have to be a full report. And an inquiry. But now . . .” He and Vero shared glances. “Only if you are up to it, of course . . .”

  Merral breathed in heavily and instantly regretted it. “Yes, physically. Mentally, I’m not so sure. But it is important. I suppose I should start with the appearance of the envoy.”

  Then, with interruptions for him to drink, Merral went through what had happened to him and what he had seen on the previous morning. He did not discuss the personal matters that had emerged with the envoy, although he was aware that he had hinted at more than he said.

  He was interrupted twice. The first interruption came from Vero when he described the shattered statue and its inscription.

  “ ‘Zhalatoc, Great Prince of Lord-Emperor Nezhuala’s Dominion,’ ” Vero repeated, taking down the spelling and entering it in his diary. He stared at the screen, a range of emotions crossing his face; then he looked up. “As I suspected: two proper names that we have no records of in Assembly history. And you don’t need me to tell you that to use the language of ‘Great Prince,’ ‘Lord-Emperor,’ and ‘Dominion’ for anyone other than the Most High is alien to everything the Assembly stands for. But written in our script . . .” His face expressed a deep and worried perplexity. “Who are they? What do they want?”

  “And why was the statue defaced?” asked Corradon, anxiety visibly eroding away his look of confidence.

  The questions were unanswered, and Merral continued with his account of what had happened in the chamber. He hesitated when he came to what the steersman had seemed to say to him as he had stood before the column. After all, he told himself, it was a voice in my mind. Yet the words had been so significant and ominous that Merral felt he had no option but to share them. As he described what had been said to him, he was aware that uneasy looks were shared between his visitors.

  “Stop!” said Corradon suddenly, and Merral felt that his composure had now all but vanished. “Let me get this right. He said—or you felt he said—‘Your isolation is over; the breach in the barrier remains. There will be others who will come in vast ships of unimaginable power.’ ”

  “Yes. ‘And we will come with them.’ ”

  “This is—” Corradon’s face paled. “No,” he said slowly, as if reasserting control over his emotions. “Later. Continue.”

  Merral ended his account with his wild ride on the leg of the intruder craft. “So I just jumped and hit the water and saw the explosion. And I don’t know how long after that I was picked up by the rescue craft.”

  There was a moment’s silence before Corradon spoke. “An extraordinary account,” he said, and Merral heard fear in his slow words. “Quite remarkable and, in part, terrifying. There is much more I would like to ask you, but I’m grateful for what I have heard. I have . . .” He shook his head and turned to Vero. “Did you have any questions?”

  Vero, who apart from his one interruption had listened in total silence, put his long fingers up around his cheeks. “Dozens. Most can wait. But I do have one or two that I need to ask. Merral, you said the ship was dirty and smelly. Did you see any signs of damage?”

  “Other than the statue? Yes, there was one place. Just before I met the thinking machine.”

  “Go on.”

  “There was a large hole, oh, the size of that door, now mended, and there looked to have been a fire. Or an explosion. At a temperature high enough to melt metal.” Merral paused, remembering the spherical silver globules that he had picked up. “And thinking about it, I’m sure the blast occurred in zero gravity. The melted metal had formed spherical droplets.”

  A subliminal gesture of acknowledgement seemed to pass between his visitors.

  “Why do you ask?” Merral said. “I didn’t make anything of it. Not compared to everything else.”

  Vero answered him. “It’s just that the Emilia Kay’s cameras got some good images as they hovered over, and there were marks on the hull. Blast marks, someone thinks.”

  “I see.”

  “A second question: You said both notices, this odd title and the ‘Steersman Chamber’ warning, were in Communal?”

  “Yes.”

  “And an early style.”

  “I’d say so.”

  “Hmm. How very suggestive.” Vero’s voice was almost inaudible, and Merral saw his expression twisting this way and that in thought.

  Corradon looked at Vero as if expecting an explanation. Then he glanced at his watch. “Really, I must go. But briefly, Vero, what do you think?”

  Vero nodded, as if agreeing with some unspoken deduction of his own. “Yes . . . sir, it is now absolutely plain that the tale we have of the ending of the Rebellion is inadequate. I was very taken with one incidental detail of Merral’s account: the way the robot identified him as Captain Lucas Ringell.”

  “Sorry, Vero, I fail to see the significance of the rank. Other than the fact that it knew of him.”

  “Sir, as you know, Lucas Ringell is always known to history as General Ringell, the final rank he reached. He was promoted on his return to Earth, after the ending of the Rebellion.” A pensive look came over his face. “Or, what we have always called the ending.”

  Merral began to understand. “You mean the last the ship, or the robot, knew of him was when he was a captain
?”

  “Exactly.”

  Corradon stared at him. “Extraordinary.”

  Vero nodded. “I am now confident that something—man, computer, or whatever—survived the cleansing of the Centauri base and fled beyond Assembly space.”

  “And has come back.”

  “Or its descendants have.” Vero’s unhappiness showed in his expression. “But in whatever way the forces of the Rebellion survived, the trends that Jannafy encouraged have plainly been continued. There appears to have been no respect of any of the Technology Protocols. There has been a pursuit of all things banned: human genetic modification, machines with a humanoid intelligence, undoubted explorations of Below-Space. And somehow, an alliance with deep evil has been made.”

  Corradon shook his head as if trying to ignore what he had heard. “These are matters to be pursued at length later. I will mention little of them today. It is already hard enough to say what I have to. But after Merral’s account, I am now reassured that this costly battle was worthwhile. And that what I will propose is necessary.”

  As Merral wondered what he meant, he saw Corradon and Vero look at each other.

  “Shall I ask?” the representative muttered, but Vero shook his head.

  “Very well.” Corradon rose stiffly to his feet. “I must go and prepare for my speech. Anyway, I wish you a speedy recovery, Merral. There is more for us to discuss.” He patted Vero on the back and walked toward the door.

  “Sir—” Merral raised a hand—“before you go, I have a request. Another one.” There was something that had to be said, and now was as good a time as any to say it.

  “Which is?”

  Merral took a deep and painful breath. “Sir, I wish to resign my commission. I want to return to forestry. To go back to Ynysmant.” His voice sounded brittle.

  Corradon took a pace back toward the bed, his face full of incredulity. “But why?”

  For a moment Merral could not speak, and then the words flowed out in an unstoppable rush. “Because I made errors of judgment. Because there are men dead. Because we failed to secure the ship. Because I’m not good at it. And, above all, because I hate it. Utterly.”