by Chris Walley
Then, conscious that he had things to discuss with the prebendant, Clemant moved on to examine the corridors. In the port corridor on level 3 was one of the jellyfish-type creatures—a tentacled polyp half the height of a man. I hate these things. Clemant clenched his fists. No wonder the early Assembly banned Below-Space travel.
The whole idea of Below-Space troubled him enormously. It’s mysterious; it’s unfathomable; it has strange, alien inhabitants with extraordinary properties. I hate it all!
Then he checked the shortest way to Delastro’s cabin and decided to pick another route; something with long snaking tendrils was emerging on level 4.
Clemant knocked on Delastro’s door. The prebendant answered with an imperious voice. “Enter!”
I wish he wouldn’t try to order me about; I thought this was a partnership.
Clemant entered the room—even more starkly furnished than his own—to see Delastro, dressed in black robes, sitting in his chair with his right hand holding his staff of office. Like a king; does he expect me to bow down before him?
Delastro wordlessly gestured him to the only other seat. As he sat down, Clemant looked up at the prebendant. Whether it was the lack of color or something else, the man’s eyes seemed to be accentuated and there seemed to be a strange wild spark in them. I honestly think he is enjoying Below-Space.
“How are you?” Clemant asked, offering a neutral question to gauge the prebendant’s mood. “We missed you at mealtime.”
“Duty, Doctor. The care of the sheep. I have been busy preparing my sermon for this evening.”
Liar! And why does he have to lecture us morning and evening?
“Of course,” Clemant said, looking around the room with its simple furniture of a bunk, spare chair, wardrobe, and small metal safe. I know what’s in that. It contains all your papers on exorcism and the mastery of the spirits and some pieces of equipment and chemicals. Neither of us trusts digital data.
The prebendant continued. “I need little food. The Lord’s work takes priority over the needs of the flesh.” A sour look arose on his face. “And I have to say that I find Captain Huang-Li rather . . . unsympathetic. The captain irritates me. She seems to consider herself in charge, and she has a troubling lack of respect for my office. Technically able as a pilot, no doubt, but she has no sense of the spiritual.” He sniffed. “A worldly woman. She should know her place.”
“Quite.” The fact is, she isn’t in awe of you. But we will talk more of her later.
“I gather you have heard the news from Gerry.”
The prebendant opened his hands and gave a lean smile.
“The woman has given us the weapon we have sought. Or so it seems. I have been imagining it: a wave of purifying fire across the Dominion; a white-hot, searing flame.” His voice rose. “A great, final cleansing blast over the putrid stench of all their worlds! The fire that consumes!” He waved his staff. “We must let the fire burn!”
“Just so.” I won’t tangle with him in these prophetic rants.
Then the rage ebbed away, and in the silence they looked at each other. Clemant realized anew that he really didn’t trust or like the prebendant at all. But for the sake of the Assembly, I must deal with him. He has the one thing I do not have and which I need: charisma. His verbal antics do nothing for me, but they turn the hearts of other men and women, and already most of this crew would do whatever he said.
Clemant tapped the folder he had brought. “Have you any comments on this document?”
There was a scowl. “Yes. You quite fail to mention that the forester and the dark outsider, Enand, had sold themselves to the other side. They were in the employ of demons. That should have been stressed. We do not wage war against flesh and blood.”
Here we go. “You may well be right, Prebendant, but my emphasis was tactical. I wanted D’Avanos and the sentinel forgotten, so I have minimized their role as much as I can. Your strategy might have the effect of making hearers curious about them.”
“Hmm. You have always sought to spare D’Avanos.”
“Not true. I agree with you that if he had perished at Ynysmant it would have been better.”
“But he didn’t.” For some moments, Delastro seemed to consider something, then gave Clemant a shrewd look. “And would it be agreed by all on this ship?”
“Gerry will agree to it.”
Delastro leaned forward like a vulture scenting a corpse. “Good. And the captain?”
“No. I have just talked to her. I anticipated that she wouldn’t agree and I can now confirm it. In fact, she is likely to complain. She is a follower of D’Avanos.”
“As I suspected. I can tell from her face that she opposes us.” Delastro leaned back in his chair. “This is bad, Dr. Clemant. A Jezebel like her could ruin the Lord’s work. Our calling is plain: armed with Gerry’s weapons, you and I must purify the worlds. Captain Huang-Li threatens our holy mission.” He frowned and leaned on his staff. “So what do you suggest?”
“I will proceed with preparing the media clips to match the agreed account. The latest estimate is that we have fourteen days before we reach Bannermene. That gives us time to win her round.”
“And if she isn’t won round?”
“I don’t know. . . . This ship won’t get through the Gate at Bannermene; it’s too wide. So they will probably analyze it there or take it to bits and ship it through on a freighter. So she might stay with the ship. Possibly.” He heard the doubt in his voice.
Delastro sniffed again. “She is a captain. She would talk and be listened to. She would become a foe of the Assembly.” His voice acquired its ringing preaching tone again. “Oh, how subtly the enemy of our souls works! How cunning is the work of the enemy in our midst. Behold! The snake in the grass.” Delastro’s voice trailed away, and for a long time he silently gazed at the blank screen on the far wall.
Suddenly he turned to Clemant. “She hates Colonel Larraine, doesn’t she? I can see it in her eyes at meals.”
“She . . . has a low opinion of Zak. It has also transpired that she knows of the incident at Tezekal when he was overzealous in disciplining two men.”
“That! They deserved it. Zeal, purity, and courage must be our watchwords.”
“Of course.”
Silence fell for almost a minute.
“Doctor, can I ask you—how do you find Below-Space?”
Where has this come from?
“I am . . . managing. I miss color, and I abhor these monstrous forms. And how about you?”
Delastro tilted his head sideways and gave him a look of almost disturbing intensity. “Doctor, as the Lord’s servant, I rejoice in all circumstances. Even Below-Space has its positive side. Here I see things with a strange and unaccustomed clarity.” The black-robed arms gestured upward. “There is a simplicity here that aids my concentration.”
Clemant merely nodded. Why do I have to work with this man? At some point when the salvation of the Assembly is secure, I will have to find a way of neutralizing him. Send him back to the seminary. Here and now, I cannot do that. We need each other. As Gerry needs me, so I need him. Our fates are intertwined.
The prebendant was speaking again. “These wretched forms trouble us. But I am working on combating them. I have great hopes that these things might be a temporary nuisance. Let me tell you that even before the outbreak of fighting, I had begun researching the matter of exorcism from some of the most ancient files in the Library.” There was an edge of dawning triumph to his words. “Guided by them, I am now able to cast out some of the smaller forms with a word of power.” He tilted his head again. “Oh, these larger things have been much more resistant and seem to ignore me. But one day, I will master them. One day too I will learn D’Avanos’s trick of how to summon an angelic being like this ‘envoy.’”
“I am glad.”
Delastro stood up and paced to the end of the room in three long strides. “Doctor, let me consider this matter of our troublesome captain. But send me Colonel L
arraine.”
Clemant returned to his cabin and locked the door. He felt a terrible premonition that things were heading out of control.
He sent an order to Zak—still in the improvised gym—to clean himself up and go see Delastro. Then, on impulse, he opened his file surveillance program and hunted through the network until he came to the captain’s computer. There he looked through the private files until he came to one named “Account of Events.” Captain Huang-Li hadn’t even bothered to encrypt it, so he opened it and skimmed through. It was damning, full of praise for D’Avanos and the sentinel and packed with concern about abuses of power by himself and Delastro. Even worse, it was very largely accurate.
What are we going to do about this?
Then, conscious that he needed to watch the meeting between Zak and Delastro, Clemant switched to the views of the prebendant’s cabin. He saw that Zak was not yet in the room and Delastro was pacing back and forth with urgent steps as if struggling with something. He was muttering, but the words were inaudible.
There was a knock on the door. Delastro took his seat, adjusted his robe, and issued a cry of “You may enter!”
Zak—inevitably, in uniform—walked in and bowed before Delastro, who raised an arm in response and told him to take a seat.
There were some brief preliminary questions from the prebendant. How was Zak? How was his training going? And in the questions and comments, Clemant heard nuggets of praise for Zak’s energy and enthusiasm. He saw, too, in the way the conversation went, how the prebendant presented himself as a man concerned for others; a man who could be relied on; a man whose praise was worth seeking. And although the camera angle was not ideal, he could also see that Zak was warming to Delastro’s approaches. Clemant felt envious of the prebendant’s skill, but the question that came to him was simple: Zak is being groomed, but for what purpose?
Without warning, the conversation changed gear. “Now, Colonel, I have been doing a great deal of thinking. I find Below-Space gives a strange, sharp clarity to my reasoning. And as a result, I have some matters I wish to put to you. As you know, we have no knowledge of what, if any, armed forces the Assembly may have. If they received Professor Habbentz’s message, they may have already mobilized some units. But if they didn’t get the message, there will effectively be nothing. I am concerned about this.”
“Sir, as a soldier, those issues are my concern too.”
“Of course. Now, I am no military man—that is why I seek your advice—but in either case, it seems that it may be wise for the Assembly to create an elite unit of soldiers.”
Delastro rose from his chair and began stalking the room, but Clemant noticed that his eyes never left Zak’s face. “A specialized group. Made up of only the very best. Of those warriors who are dedicated to all the Assembly stands for.”
The voice was rich and heroic. This is prime Delastro preaching. “Men whose lives are driven by purity, purpose, and faithfulness. Men who would lift up our people and cast down the enemy. Men whose very names would spread terror amongst our foes. Destroy them utterly. In short, heroes, Colonel. Heroes!” He paused. “What do you think?”
Clemant felt irritated. That sort of thing ought to be discussed with me!
A tremor of excitement ran through Zak’s voice. “Sir, I have been dreaming of just this! An elite fighting force.”
Delastro gave a little clap of his hands. “As I suspected, Colonel, you and I are alike! Now, I was thinking that—should there be approval for such a dedicated group, of course—you might head it.”
Zak gasped. “Sir, that is a truly awesome honor. I would be delighted to serve the Assembly in that way.”
“I was considering a name for these men. Do you have any suggestions?”
“Marines, sir?”
There was a shake of the head. “Too unspiritual.”
“The Elite?”
Delastro, still pacing around, gave another shake of the head. “Too obvious.”
“How about the Guardians . . . the Guardians of the Assembly?”
Delastro stopped dead. “Close, Colonel, but it makes them sound like the satellites. Guardians . . . Guards . . .” He raised a hand. “The Guards of the Assembly? No, the Guards of the Lord! You are a genius, Colonel. A fine name.”
“Yes. I agree, sir. It has a good sound to it.”
“I will work on the details,” Delastro said; he paused, and then began talking in a softer tone. “In the meantime, don’t mention it to anyone. Not even Dr. Clemant. But, Colonel, there are other matters. I have always admired your loyalty to the Assembly. You value the Assembly greatly, don’t you?”
“Sir, it is the Lord’s Assembly.”
“Indeed. And if it were to be threatened?”
“Then I would seek to save it.”
“Exactly. My sentiments entirely. What would you do to save the Assembly, Colonel?”
“Anything, sir. It’s worth anything. You know that.”
“Anything? I agree.” Clemant watched the prebendant as he appeared to weigh up something. “Colonel, I have some disturbing news for you. These are dark days.” Delastro continued to walk around Zak with slow, long-limbed paces. “Very dark days. We face a terrifying enemy. You have seen something of that, haven’t you?”
“Yes, sir. Tezekal, sir.”
“Yes, Tezekal. But the problem is, Colonel, that enemies are very close now.” Distress oozed out of Delastro’s voice. “We have enemies within us.”
“You mean . . . like D’Avanos, sir?”
“Just like him.”
“But I had thought we had left our enemies behind on Farholme.”
“Oh, Colonel, I am an expert on sin, and trust me, it’s not that easy. Sin is contagious. It’s like a virus. That’s why purity is vital.” He drew himself up to his full height. “No, I’m very afraid that our own captain is a problem.”
“I’m not surprised, sir.”
Clemant was aware of the heavy thud-thud of his heart. What is this dreadful man up to? “Well spotted. She’s very troublesome. She plans to make a protest about us at Bannermene. You can imagine the sort of thing—that we are downplaying the role of the forester and his dark henchman.”
“That’s not good, sir. That could be . . . well, awkward.”
“How I agree! But, Colonel, I need to clear something up. She seems to hold something against you. Had you met her before you boarded the ship?”
“Not as I recall, sir.”
“She seems to know all about you. Apparently, she wants to make a fuss about that incident at Tezekal. Your disciplining—what were the names?—ah yes, Durrance . . . and Latrati.” He leaned forward. “I see from your face that this is not a matter you want to have raised.”
“Sir, you know that was a tough situation. The men were in danger of panicking. The line could have collapsed.”
“‘Desperate times call forth desperate measures,’ as the Word says.”
Where? thought Clemant, both engrossed and appalled by Delastro’s manipulation of Zak. And, more importantly, where is he taking all this?
“Indeed, sir.”
“I’m sorry to be the bearer of such bad news. I’m sure you would be acquitted at the court-martial.”
“The court-martial!” Zak’s face was pale and staring. You devious monster, Delastro! Build up his military career and then threaten it!
“But it may not come to that. We have two weeks for her to come round to our way of thinking. To cease being an enemy of the Assembly.”
“I see, sir.”
“But this is serious. I need you free to command the Guards of the Lord, and Gerry must have her weapon tested, and all our data has to be given to the Assembly. And the captain is in danger of stopping all that. That would be the work of an enemy. Wouldn’t it?”
“Yes, sir.”
A deep, troubling feeling began to grow in Clemant’s mind. This was leading somewhere—to a destination so dark and unprecedented that he could not bring himself to
imagine it.
“To set your face against the Lord’s Assembly would be very dangerous, wouldn’t it?”
“How exactly, sir?”
“You might forfeit your soul. An eternal fate. A fate truly worse than death.” The words, heavy with judgment, seemed to hang in the air like a black thundercloud.
“A terrible thought, sir.”
“Oh yes, terrible beyond words. You see, Colonel, when I think of the harm that the captain might do to the Assembly, to you, and to herself, then I am forced to one conclusion.”
“We ought to pray she repents?”
Clemant thought he glimpsed a flash of irritation in the prebendant’s eyes.
“Of course.” Delastro frowned and shook his head. “But I’m terribly afraid, Colonel, it may be necessary to ensure that if she doesn’t repent, the captain leaves this ship . . . well, horizontally rather than vertically.”
In an instant, it all made terrible, awesome sense to Clemant. “No!” he cried aloud as he lurched to his feet.
He caught a glimpse of Zak’s face again and saw it bore an open-mouthed look of horror. “You mean . . . sir, you want to—”
Delastro interrupted him with a wave of the hand. “No need to name the word, Colonel. It would be for everyone’s good. Even for her.”
“Sir, I’m confused. . . .”
The prebendant gave a sad smile. “This is a new and strange ship, Colonel. It would be tragic, but not extraordinary, if when we arrived in orbit at Bannermene, the captain—assuming, of course, that she remains unrepentant—were to have an accident. An unshielded high-voltage cable, a malfunctioning door, a weapon accidentally discharged . . . Life can be ended so easily.”
I have to intervene! But as the thought came to Clemant, he realized it was not that easy.
“Sir, do I understand that you want me to—?”