Infinite Day

by Chris Walley

  The screen went blank.

  Vero, his mouth wide open in horror, plunged his head into his hands. “Th-that’s n-not in the script!”

  “I don’t believe it!” Merral could hear the shock in his voice.

  Don’t panic! he told himself. He stood up, feeling his legs unsteady and hit the microphone. “We need to meet urgently. The conference room. Vero, Ilyas, Helena, Luke, Azeras.”

  As he ran to the bridge, his borrowed jacket flapping and Lloyd doggedly pursuing him, he saw the pale face of Laura turned toward him. “Set a course to follow.”

  “How close?”

  How do I know? “Say . . . a thousand kilometers due astern of them. So that hopefully they don’t notice us. Then you join us in the conference room.”

  Azeras was waiting by the conference room door, his posture somehow conveying a solemn awkwardness.

  “May we talk?” The voice was insistent.

  “At the meeting . . .”

  “No. Here.” Azeras drew Merral to one side. “You know what I’m going to say, don’t you?”

  “I can guess. It’s time to give up and go home.”

  “Now. Any other decision would be madness.” The words were impassioned.

  Merral, feeling angry, struggled to restrain his words. “Sarudar, we may conclude that is indeed the right decision, but at the moment, I want to discuss all options.”

  “There are no other options.”

  “Is that all you have to say? That there are no other options?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is there much point in your coming to the meeting?”

  “I doubt it.” Azeras gave a bitter shrug. “The game’s over. You have made your gesture. It’s time to get back.”

  Then he turned away and, slouch-shouldered, walked angrily down the corridor.

  Merral looked around the silent and anxious gathering in the conference room, then turned to the chaplain. “Luke, you’d better pray for us, because I haven’t a clue what we’re going to do now. My plans are in ruins.”

  “No. Two or three of us pray. I am not a priest for you, Commander, however difficult things may be.” There was a ghost of a smile on Luke’s pale face. “And, at the end, I’ll close.”

  They prayed for those on the ship and for what they ought to do, but as they did, no answer came to Merral, and when he opened his eyes, he saw that, as usual, they were all looking at him.

  The envoy warned me things would not go as planned, but I had no idea how badly things could go amiss.

  “I am stunned by this turn of events,” he said. “I had thought that after the long journey and after seizing this vessel the worst was over.”

  His words were greeted by nods of agreement. “How naive I was. Anyway, my own view is that I cannot believe that he who controls all things would allow us to come so far in order to fail at the last moment. We can debate the theology of this with Luke at some other point. But at the moment, I don’t know exactly what to do. We are currently following the Comet.” He paused. “I need to report that Azeras does not wish to join us. His opinion, which he expressed very strongly, is that we now turn back and return to the Assembly with this ship. That is an option that I said we would discuss.”

  Merral caught Lloyd looking at him in a meaningful way and gestured for him to speak.

  “Sir,” he said quietly, “can we be sure that the Comet was not tipped off?”

  “By who?”

  “Betafor.”

  “I don’t think we can rule it out. But we need her. Let’s just bear it in mind.” Merral looked around. “What options have we got?”

  In the next few minutes, Ilyas suggested they consider closing with the Comet and ordering it to stop and, if necessary, forcing an entry using weapons.

  Vero shook his head. “Th-the threat of us using our firepower is an empty one. They have hostages.”

  Laura nodded in agreement. “And opening hostilities would alert the entire system that they had a problem. There are no shortages of military vessels around, Commander. We’d have very little time to stop the ship, enter it, seize the hostages, and get away. I could do the calculations, but I don’t think we can do it before some particle weapon hits us.”

  The ensuing silence was broken by Luke’s slow voice. “Logically, there’s one point where we may be able to effect a rescue, and I think we need to examine it. Although it is not an option I care for.”

  “Which is?” Merral asked, but he knew the answer.

  Luke seemed to stare into the distance. “The entry point to the Blade.”

  There were mutters and shared looks of disquiet.

  “Is that even feasible? Do we know about the Blade’s docking arrangements?”

  Vero spoke. “We have a lot of data on this ship but very little on the Blade. I don’t know why not; probably because it is not relevant. But there is some on the docking and entry areas.”

  An exchange of unhappy looks occurred.

  Merral spoke. “Vero, show us what you know.”

  Over the next ten minutes, they looked at the images and schematics Vero had. Eventually, Merral summed up what they knew. “The good news first. Now that it’s finished, the Blade is sparsely staffed. Perhaps thirty people, most of them engineers and technicians and most of them down on the lower levels. But there must also be an unknown number of guards for the lord-emperor.”

  “Not good news,” Vero observed.

  “True. Second, there are only two docking points, and both are currently empty.” He gestured to the model. “They meet at a Y-junction just outside the main body of the Blade. The Comet will probably dock in nineteen or twenty hours. If we can be there first, we might be able to do it.”

  There were cautious nods.

  “What else on the good side? No ships are positioned within twenty thousand kilometers. The gathering of the fleet is occurring and is preoccupying everyone. Have I missed anything?”

  Luke stirred in his seat but said nothing.

  “Now the bad news. We will be very exposed. Any rescue must be very fast. It’s bound to be guarded.”

  Laura raised a finger. “We also need to remember that we really don’t know how the Blade works and what forces—or powers—it can conjure up. There may be more than physics operating here.”

  Luke nodded.

  Merral gazed around. “But a rescue here seems possible.” It sounds pathetic.

  Merral saw Vero shaking his head quietly. “You disagree?”

  “Do I disagree? My friend, I don’t know. We have an awesomely difficult task. It is the very heart of the darkness.”

  “I can hardly dissent. Had I known that our efforts were to take place this close to where the lord-emperor is conjuring up anything and everything, I think I would not have come.”

  “Then, that is perhaps why we didn’t realize it.” Luke’s voice rang around the room. They all turned to him.

  Merral spoke. “Luke, what’s your guess? Can we do it?”

  The answer was a wry smile. “Commander, you seem to want to give me offices that I have to reject. I have reminded you I am neither exorcist nor priest; and neither am I prophet. If you wish to try one more attempt, I support you.”

  “A last throw of the dice,” Vero muttered, and then as everyone looked at him with puzzlement, he made a dismissive gesture. “Never mind.”

  Merral hesitated. “I have heard nothing that rules out this attempt. Luke reads my mind correctly. I’d say we go on and try to seize them at the very edge of the Blade. Any dissent?”

  There was none.

  “Okay, let’s start the preparation. We need to put together a new plan. Plan B.”

  Helena grunted. “Plan C. Plan B got us here.”

  “True—Plan C. But we need to do some retraining very quickly. The really good news is that it’s all going to be over in twenty hours.”

  Immediately after the meeting, Merral went to find Azeras. He had expected to be greeted by a renewed outburst but found
that the man was oddly restrained.

  After Merral explained the decision, Azeras just shook his head. “I’m afraid, Commander, that is precisely the decision I feared you would make.” He gave a despairing shrug and threw his arms up. “Nevertheless, I support you. What else can I do? You are mission commander. I will do what I can to help.” And that, his tone implied, was that.

  As Merral walked away from him toward the bridge, he found himself troubled by the conversation. He is too compliant. I expected, and with justification, that he would protest about my recklessness, about my making another symbolic gesture, but I have had none of it. How odd. However, the moment that he walked onto the bridge, a host of new issues enveloped him, and Azeras’s behavior was forgotten.

  Merral saw that he had to explain the mission plan to Betafor. I have no option; she may already guess what we are about to try.

  The emotionless eyes turned to him. “I had deduced this.”

  “What do you think of it?”

  “I find it very alien. It is not something an Allenix would do.”

  “I know that. I meant, can it succeed?”

  “Possibly.”

  “Let me know if you detect anything that has an effect on our chances.”

  “Commander, I will.”

  He looked at her glassy eyes. Do I trust her? No. Must I trust her? Yes.

  For the next dozen hours, nothing happened other than the constant fine-tuning of strategy. On the screens the Blade of Night grew steadily closer, and the vast assemblages of warships in the system became ever clearer. And whether it was the effect of the images or something else, the mood on the ship became more subdued.

  Yet the voyage was uninterrupted. No signals were sent to the Sacrifice, and a careful watch showed no evidence of ships being sent to intercept them.

  “Fleet maneuvers,” Vero said as he watched the screens filled with scores of floating gray slivers. “That is what’s preoccupying them at the moment. Long may it last.”

  When evening came on the artificial timetable that prevailed on the ship, Merral, wanting everyone to be alert for the rescue, ordered all who could be spared to get some sleep. He proceeded to try to follow his own order but found it hard. Somehow, this close to the heart of the Dominion, the presence of evil loomed very near, and Merral felt naked and vulnerable. As he tossed on his bunk, he found his mind full of turbulent thoughts about both Isabella and Anya, interspersed with fears and doubts. The only consolation he could find was that the next time he fell asleep, they might be heading back toward the Assembly.

  Eventually, though, sleep came.

  Merral was woken by a thunderous hammering on his door. It was Lloyd. “You are wanted on the bridge, sir. A problem.”

  Rubbing sleep from his eyes, Merral ran to the bridge to find Laura staring at a screen. Vero was standing beside her.

  “What’s up?”

  She swung around on her chair to look at him. “Commander, I’m afraid Azeras has left us.”

  The words held no meaning. “You mean . . . ?”

  “About an hour ago, he took a ferry craft. Without permission. We’ve only just realized it, and I’m afraid by now he’s back at the Star. We are trying to get a signal through to him but with no success.”

  Merral threw himself into a seat and hammered his fist on the desk. “Of course! What a fool I’ve been.”

  “We weren’t blaming you,” Laura said.

  “I talked to him a few hours ago. After the decision. I was puzzled how little fuss he made. Of course, he was bluffing.” Merral saw Betafor. “Didn’t you notice?”

  “Commander, the sarudar told me that he was being sent to collect some weapon parts from the Star. I took his statement as being true. Unfortunately, I overlooked the tendency of human beings to tell lies.”

  “Thank you, Betafor. Your comment on the fallibility of human beings is noted.” Merral sighed. “I’m sorry, I’m in a bad temper. And I should have known this was a possibility. He left no message?”

  “None to us,” Laura said, “but you might want to check yourself.”

  Merral turned to a screen and found that he had indeed received a message from Azeras. He went to the office and, with the doors closed, played it there.

  Azeras’s pale, lined face dominated the screen.

  “Commander, I am back on the Star. I wanted to apologize. You will be before Nezhuala at the heart of his realm. I will not draw any nearer to the Blade or him who wishes to rule from it. I wish you well. But I cannot go with you in this battle.”

  There was a sour look. “You must do without me. You don’t need this ship now. So I will take it and leave the system as speedily as I can.” The man adjusted some switch and then looked at the lens again. “I haven’t decided where I will go. There’s food and fuel on this ship for many months. There are, it seems, some worlds beyond the Dominion that are not wholly dreadful—slime worlds with bitter lakes, but you can breathe the air and drink the water.”

  He ran fingers through his beard. “I’m sorry my departure had to be in this way. I was glad that you seized the Sacrifice because it gave me a chance to get my own ship back. Remember, I have broken no oaths. I have just ended the alliance between the last of the True Freeborn and the Assembly.”

  There was a long pause. “I wish you the best, even though I fear the worst. I hope you will get your friends back and bring them safely home. I trust you will not feel ill will toward me. Farewell.”

  The screen went blank.

  Merral, hurt and irritated, stared at the empty blackness for some time. Then he dictated a reply.

  “Azeras, I have no idea whether you will get this or whether you have already left. I have listened to your message. I wish you had discussed this with me. I want to say several things. Thank you for the help you have been to us. Without your assistance, the battles at Farholme would have ended very differently. I also want you to know that there is a welcome for you in the Assembly should you decide to go inward. And also, inasmuch as I have any right to do it, I offer you forgiveness on behalf of the crew and the Assembly. Finally, I wish you well. We will pray the Lord’s grace be upon you in your journey. In the name of the One who holds the stars in his hand, amen.”

  He sent the message and began to return to the bridge. Lloyd was waiting outside his door.

  “Well, Sergeant, he’s gone.”

  Lloyd acknowledged the news with a sharp tip of his head. “Sorry to see him go, sir, really. But I’m glad as it was honest and open.”

  “You had feared worse.”

  “Yes, sir. And I’m glad to be proved wrong.” Lloyd’s gaze shifted toward the bridge door. “Well, now there’s only one problem to worry about.”

  “True. Look, I’ve sent a reply. If there’s any response, let me know. Otherwise I’m going back to bed.” Merral rubbed his face. “Tomorrow will have enough worries of its own.”

  On the corner of the bridge of the Sacrifice that she had made her own, Betafor Allenix considered the future again. For some days she had been making endless calculations of probabilities of outcomes, but the sudden departure of Sarudar Azeras had required that they be modified.

  In all the centuries that her identity had existed, Betafor had not come across anything as complex as this. She needed to apply as much processing power to the matter as possible. She transferred to Kappaten—without explanation, of course—those routine tasks such as wavelength scrutiny that currently occupied part of her intelligence and switched the freed-up memory and processing to supplement her central decision-making elements.

  She then processed the newly modified data tables to estimate the chances of a successful result—defined simply as her survival—of the rescue at the Blade of Night. A successful outcome had already been very unlikely before the sarudar left; it was clearly much less likely now. A few minutes’ dedicated processing showed her how much more improbable it was. The odds were now well under 1 in 20; clearly unacceptable. The fact that Azeras conside
red the venture too risky also had to be considered. Although Betafor despised human logic—it was too much at the mercy of fluctuating hormones—his verdict was an independent confirmation that failure was the most likely outcome. Even allowing for the fact that Merral D’Avanos had beaten statistical odds before, the outlook was bleak.

  The conclusion was inevitable: action had to be taken to improve her chances of survival. It also had to be taken now. There were only ten hours left before they reached the docking module of the Blade of Night. Within two hours or so, the crew would be waking up, and from then on, her chance for uninterrupted in-depth analysis would be reduced. With steady, cold logic, Betafor considered three options.

  With the first option, she would simply carry out her present functions as an Allenix unit currently aligned with the Assembly. When the inevitable happened and the Dominion took over the ship, she would immediately offer to be realigned to them and hope that the consequences were not too unpleasant.

  The second option was to take over the ship. She would deploy the pack of shipboard Krallen held in stasis in Container S16 in the aft hold. She had deleted all references to their existence, and not even the ever-inquisitive Verofaza had found mention of them. If she unleashed them, especially now, when almost everyone was sleeping, they would probably kill all the crew and soldiers quickly and allow her to take charge. It was attractive . . . but there were problems. Krallen loathed Allenix more than they did humans, and they might easily turn on her. Once they triumphed, she would have to immobilize them, and that might not be easy.

  A third option existed. She would try to contact Lezaroth and strike a deal in which she offered him D’Avanos in return for her safety within the Dominion. A few minutes’ rigorous evaluation suggested that of all the options this was the best.

  Yet as Betafor double-checked her decision and noted that her actions would result in the destruction of the humans, a strange feeling came to her. It was a sensation that, in all her many years, she had never had before. It was so odd and inexplicable that she tested the status of her circuits in case there was a malfunction. Indeed, it took her some time to even define what it was, but in the end she concluded that it was something akin to what humans termed regret or even guilt.