by Chris Walley
A silver disk with many layers filled the screen. “A star. See the complex, layered structure.” She was gesturing with stabs of a finger. “This is like Sol. But with the right adjustments, what’s going to happen would work with most other mainstream stars. Now, what we are going to do is explode a polyvalent fusion device in the core.” He heard the teacher in her voice. “Of course, we can’t use a normal delivery system because of the temperatures and pressures. Even injecting a bomb from Below-Space would not work because the gravitational forces would destroy the weapon well before it could explode.”
I thought she was going to bomb a world, not a star.
“But if you wrap the delivery module with a balanced cluster of large gravity-modification units, things get interesting. Very interesting. You sneak below the center of the core in Below-Space and switch on the gravity modification units simultaneously. Then you emerge into Normal-Space. I calculate you have a window of about 0.75 seconds to fire the polyvalent device before the heat gets through. But that’s enough time to fire it. When the bomb explodes, the energy released will be enough to break the hydrostatic equilibrium of the core.”
She smiled at him. “Watch.” She gestured at the screen and a tiny black dot moved to the center of the disk; with another gesture, it flashed. In seconds, the central disk began to contract inward.
“It’ll trigger a massive stellar instability. And so the whole core collapses inward and the star will shift into a type-4 supernova within minutes as the infalling matter rebounds—” the inside of the disk now started to rapidly expand outward—“producing a shock wave, which blows off the rest of the star’s material.”
The layers in the circles were buckling and distorting now, as if a fluid were boiling.
“And the effect on the system?”
“The system?” Gerry raised an eyebrow in incredulity. “Lucian, the system would vanish. Any habitable worlds would be vaporized within thirty minutes, the rest within days. The shock wave will go out at the speed of light.”
“How far?”
“Eventually you’d lose ozone layers in planetary systems up to thirty light-years away.” She gave him a white-toothed grin. “The biggest, baddest bomb ever.” The smile broadened. “And what makes it more potent is that we have learned from this ship that the ambassadors spoke truthfully in one area: the heart of the Dominion is just four worlds around one star, Sarata.” Her lips tightened in a cruel smile. “Good-bye, Dominion.”
Clemant was silent for a moment as he tried to adjust to the scale of the devastation. She promised us a big bomb, but I dreamed of nothing of this scale.
“I see. But if this weapon is so awesome, and so easy, how do we know that they do not have it?”
Gerry stretched long arms above her head and interlocked her fingers. “It needs three things: Below-Space travel, which they have; polyvalent fusion weapons, which they might have; and large-scale gravity modification, which we know they don’t have.”
“How do we know that?”
Gerry nodded toward the Dove’s bridge. “We have the details of their worlds. The orbits are all over the place. They go from baking heat to freezing cold in weeks. They have never mastered the art of adjusting worlds. Apparently, it was Jannafy’s seventh ship that carried the gravity-modification technology units.”
“The one that never made it.”
“Exactly. So they started off without gravity modification and learned to live without it. They have since made it on a ship scale, but it’s not an expertise. As you have probably noticed, the gravity here fluctuates. So it’s a technological advantage we have that gives us a tactical opportunity. But not for long.”
“Can we be sure this bomb would work?”
“It would need further modeling in the lab, and the delivery system would need to be tested. I need to talk to Amin about it.” She glanced at the photograph.
“This is his area?”
“Oh, yes. And all being well, we should be able to talk in just over two weeks’ time.” She stared with a wide-eyed happiness at Clemant. “You know, it’s like a resurrection, Lucian. I had come round to being certain that I would never see him for the best part of a lifetime. But now it looks like I can talk to him in days. Maybe even be with him inside weeks. I will request that we be allowed to meet as soon as possible.” There was an intense longing in her voice.
“I’ll do my best,” he said, feeling uncomfortable with such an intensity of passion.
Gerry leaned back and stared at the ceiling. “I may have been spared grief, but others have not.” A grim, dark emotion filled her voice. “Lucian, others will suffer unless we stop them. We saw that at Tantaravekat. It’s funny.” She stared away. “When I came on this ship and I knew my isolation was going to end, I felt that my motivation for doing this would be ended. But it hasn’t waned. Well, not much. I still hate the Dominion; they are utterly evil. They must be destroyed.”
Feeling somewhat alienated by the dramatic shift from passionate love to intense hate, Clemant was considering changing the subject when he saw something moving down to his right.
A dark gray slug the size of his shoe was extruded through the metal wall. He shuddered and pushed his chair back as it slowly solidified. I hate these abominations; I hate the way they just appear without warning. The colorless grayness, this perpetual twilight, I can live with. But I detest these things and their randomness. The creature slithered out farther and then with a plop dropped down to the floor.
He made an involuntary noise of disgust.
“Oh, one of those things,” Gerry said with an air of mild irritation. “Weird, aren’t they?”
She picked a tray off a shelf, slid it sharply underneath the slug, and carried it to the door. She tossed the slug out, then closed the door, sat down, and turned to Clemant.
“Well, if those things are the worst we get, we can’t complain. I wish I understood them. They just appear, move along, and fade away. They aren’t illusionary. They have measurable mass and volume.” She frowned. “But I’m not even sure that they’re really matter. Not in the conventional sense. I really ought to try to experiment on them.”
“I’d be grateful if you didn’t take them to pieces.”
“Just teasing, Lucian. Yeah, they might explode. You really don’t like them, do you?”
“No. I don’t. Those things just arrive, without any rule or reason. I find that irritates me enormously.”
“Now that figures. You always did like things ordered.”
“Indeed.”
There was a moment of silence, and in it Clemant realized that the time had come to raise the matter that concerned him.
“Gerry, there’s something I need to discuss with you. It’s private. You see I am trying to—that is, the prebendant and I are trying to . . . well, tidy up the accounts of what happened at Farholme.”
She gave him a knowing look. “Well, Lucian, I picked up something of this. You guys seem to have fallen out with Merral and Vero big-time, and I gather that our departure was pretty well unauthorized. No one waved good-bye to Farholme.”
“Indeed. But you and I know we needed to get away quickly. We might still be sitting there, otherwise, waiting for some committee to finish deliberating.” He paused. “In hindsight, it is possible that the way we handled things wasn’t the best way. But that’s the past.”
“I make no objection.”
“I am very anxious that the Assembly act swiftly. I want it to consider your weapon.”
“I’m pretty much in sympathy with that. Let’s waste these monsters before they get us.”
“Quite. So we need this whole thing to go smoothly.”
Gerry gave a curt wave of her long fingers. “Let’s cut to the real issue, Lucian. You need to make sure that the Farholme delegation—namely us—is all saying the same thing at Bannermene.”
“Yes.”
“And I want this weapon, and to get that I need your backing.”
“Exactl
y. The prebendant and I will be pushing your work forward. But we can only really do that in return for your support.”
“So you offer me a deal.” Gerry stared away for a moment. Clemant saw a muscle moving in her cheek.
“I have what I call an agreed account. You can take a look at it.”
“No, I don’t need it.” She looked pensive. “I don’t like this, you know.” Then she smiled. “But, hey, it’s just words, right? Can’t do any real harm. I guess. So I won’t argue against it.” She looked up at the ceiling. “What I will say is true. I have been very busy the past couple of months. I have been locked in a lab. I didn’t see what happened out there. I didn’t really follow the details. I’m the wrong person to comment.”
“So you’re going to play the preoccupied scientist?”
She gave a snuffle of amusement. “Yeah. I was looking the other way, right?”
“A deal, then?”
“Yes. So whatever you say goes; I’m just going to wash my hands of the whole thing.”
“Wisely said. Oh, can I tell the prebendant of your success?”
“He already knows. He called me earlier today. He likes the idea of the big, bad bomb. Very much.”
As Clemant left Gerry’s office, he felt almost happy. The pieces are falling into place! However, his mood was tempered by the fact that there was another agreement he had to obtain, and that, he knew, would be difficult. Gerry had agreed because she had needed his support. But he had no such hold over Captain Huang-Li. After some deliberation, he decided to talk to her after lunch. He was heading back to his cabin, keeping a cautious lookout for any of the monstrosities spawned in Below-Space, when he passed round the large cylindrical shaft near the center of the ship that cut through all four floors. On impulse, he looked down over the balcony and was immediately hailed from the floor below.
“Dr. Clemant!” a light but firm voice called out. “Would you join me for a moment?”
He saw a short, uniformed lady in her late forties with wavy hair and a firm, sharp-featured face staring up at him. It was the captain.
“Certainly,” Clemant replied, realizing that something in her tone suggested trouble. He walked down the spiral stairs at the side of the shaft to find her waiting for him. Her eyes, blue in normal light, were in this monochrome world a light gray.
“Captain, what can I do for you?” Clemant asked, wondering what was in store.
“Can we talk privately?” The way she spoke allowed for no dissent. A nearby cabin was empty, and they walked in. The captain closed the door behind them and walked up so close to Clemant that he felt slightly threatened.
“Let me come straight to the point. I take it, Dr. Clemant, that you are in charge of Colonel Larraine?”
Clemant was struck by the troubling thought that the captain never addressed him as “Advisor.” Does she know my title was removed as we left Farholme? “Zak—I mean Colonel Larraine—is under my orders. Yes. Why?”
“I caught him jogging along the lower corridors—”
“That’s okay. He—”
“Let me finish. He carried a loaded weapon.”
“Captain Huang-Li, it’s standard military training.”
“I am aware of the principle.” The voice was as sharp as a blade. “But consider if there were any accidental discharge and we put a hole in the hull. I don’t think you would like that.”
“No . . .”
“We have agreed to allow weapons in the core rooms of this vessel. But outside that, no loaded weapons are allowed. Dr. Clemant, I am the captain.”
Why did we have to get this unyielding woman as captain? “Of course. I presume you reminded Colonel Larraine of your policy?”
“Yes. I’m afraid his manner was far from courteous. I thought you should know.”
“My apologies. Colonel Larraine is a very determined sort of man. You must understand.”
There was a stern shake of the head. “Dr. Clemant, I know exactly the sort of man he is. I was the pilot on a ship that evacuated some of the wounded from Tezekal, and I saw Durrance and Latrati. Do you know who they are?”
I know the tale, as does Delastro, but I can hardly admit it occurred. “No,” he replied and found himself surprised at how easy it had been to lie.
Captain Huang-Li gazed at him with hard, accusing eyes. “Durrance and Latrati were soldiers whom Zak had had beaten up.”
I cannot allow this. It must be stopped. “Captain Huang-Li, that is an allegation. Nothing else.”
“No. It is more than that. I mentioned it to the prebendant. He knew all about it. He didn’t deny it had happened. He just preached about purity.”
As he would. “Captain, this is hardly the place for allegations. The truth may be otherwise. We must deal with facts.”
The captain seemed to raise herself up on her toes and stare at him with frowning eyes. He was reminded of a cobra. “Facts? The truth? I wasn’t going to mention this, Dr. Clemant, but I think I must. Are you really interested in the truth? in facts?”
“What do you mean?”
“I have listened to a lot of discussions at meals between you and the prebendant. And when you talk about the battles, I hear very little about what really happened. I am aware of what really happened at Tezekal because I picked up the wounded. And I heard what happened at Ynysmant. We pilots know.”
“I’m not sure I understand what you mean.”
“I am no fool.” The eyes were wide with indignation. “I may be a woman—which puts me close to being a fool, as far as your prebendant is concerned—but I’m not stupid. You removed Merral D’Avanos from power, didn’t you, because he wouldn’t do things your way? He should be on this ship.” Her voice was rough with anger now. “He was a man of courage and initiative. He was a true hero of the war. And Sentinel Vero . . . We know how important his irregulars were. And he advised my friend Perena Lewitz.”
This is potentially disastrous. “I’m sorry you feel like that, Captain,” Clemant said, trying to put as much smoothness into his voice as he could. “I think you have misunderstood a very complex situation. I hope, in the rest of this journey together, we can try to put your mind at rest.”
“You can try,” the captain said with heavy sacrcasm. Then with a shake of the head that seemed loaded with contempt, she left the cabin.
Clemant stood there perhaps a minute thinking about what she had said and trying to see any way forward. Then he walked back to his own cabin. There he closed the door behind him and pressed the lock. Such a useful invention.
He sat down at the tiny desk, opened a drawer, and withdrew a small folder with the handwritten words The Agreed Account of Events on the front. He stared for a moment and then opened it and pulled out some sheets of notes. I have learned from D’Avanos; we cannot trust digital technology. He turned to the final sheet. On it was a list of the twelve men and women on the Dove of Dawn, and beside each was a box. Ten boxes had checkmarks in them; the remaining two were empty. Clemant picked up a pen; next to Habbentz he put a check, and next to Huang-Li a firm cross.
Clemant closed the folder and put it on the desk. He had to see Delastro but felt that he needed time to recover after the last meeting.
Time to check up on what’s happening.
He turned to face the wall above his bunk and issued a command. The screen came to life, and then quietly, lest he be overheard in the corridor, Clemant ordered, “Watch personnel!” The screen broke up into eleven small, separate gray images.
The engineers who had investigated the Dove had informed him of the internal surveillance system. They had assumed that he would disable it and make its existence common knowledge to the new crew. Instead, Clemant had found it very useful to both keep this system and conceal it. No one else, not even the prebendant, knew that he could watch and listen to everyone on the ship. At first he had had scruples about using such a powerful tool, but as the ship had descended into Below-Space the scruples had vanished in the grayness, and the rightness of
using it had become self-evident.
The accusation that what he was about to do was immoral briefly returned. Clemant reminded himself that when he had more or less run Farholme, his power had hinged on knowledge. He had made it a point of pride to know what was going on and had had systems that allowed him to do that.
On this almost infinitely smaller world with its dozen inhabitants, I have an equally valid right to know. The importance of this mission means that petty considerations of privacy must be overruled. Necessity supersedes morality. Anyway, the meeting with Captain Huang-Li has confirmed that I am not entirely among friends. I need to be vigilant.
And with this, his doubts evaporated and Clemant started to watch the other eleven people on the ship. He turned to the captain first, enlarging her image to full screen. She was back on the bridge. Noting that she had gone from a slight irritant to a major threat, Clemant resolved to keep her under closer watch. He would have to access her computer files; another surveillance trick that he had at his disposal. He moved on. Zak—inevitably—was working out in the gym, grunting loudly, his T-shirt black with sweat. The two engineers were peering at an open box of wires and exchanging incomprehensible views on which wire did what. Gerry was silently huddled over her screen. The other crew members were about their duties or sleeping.
Finally, Clemant summoned up images of Delastro. He had partly expected him to be pacing the corridors, but the prebendant was in his stark room staring intently at grainy scenes flickering on a wallscreen as distorted sounds played in the background. Clemant knew exactly what he witnessed. The prebendant was watching the extraordinary imagery of the great turning point of the battle of Ynysmant, where the two creatures from the heavenly and hellish realms, the envoy and the baziliarch, confronted each other, one on either side of Forester D’Avanos.
Those images again! How many times have you played them? Clemant leaned back in his chair and shook his head. “Oh, Prebendant,” he whispered, “you want to control this angel, don’t you? Gerry has her big, bad bomb, but you—you want the envoy as your ultimate weapon.” You are so desperate that you have even consulted occult literature in the hope it will help you. I have seen you do it.