Infinite Day

by Chris Walley

  “I’m sorry.”

  They clasped hands, and he left.

  Then, after a short conversation with Laura about the strategy for any sudden departure, Merral headed down to the shuttle bay with Vero. There he said farewell to Lloyd, whose face depicted utter frustration.

  “It’s probably going to be okay, Lloyd; we may be sending for you to come over in half an hour.” Merral lowered his voice. “But if it isn’t, then help Laura get this ship out and head on to Earth. It—and Jorgio—need delivering safely.”

  “Nothing better go wrong, sir. I’m not sure I can bring myself to leave you behind.”

  “In which case, Sergeant, you would be disobeying orders.”

  It was only a ten-minute journey across to the Hope of Glory, but it took another five minutes before a secure docking could be achieved.

  “Ready?” Merral said to Vero as they stood before the door waiting for the pressure to equalize.

  “Yes, my friend. For whatever lies before us.”

  “Vero, I just want to get to Earth.”

  “I know. But the road set before us is not always straight.”

  As the door began to open, Merral put his hand into his pocket and touched the small transmitting switch he had acquired.

  Captain Khiroz was waiting for them. She was as neatly dressed as she had been on the image and taller than Merral had been expecting. Again he noted the little silver lapel badge and saw it was made of two interlinked letters, p and d.

  “What?” she said with a look of displeasure. “Just the two of you?”

  “We thought we’d come on board in phases,” Merral replied, trying to smile.

  “I see,” she said between tight lips, and he heard the door close behind him. “Follow me.”

  Merral exchanged glances with Vero. No words of welcome?

  They walked up the corridor into a larger compartment. Three men were waiting for them there.

  The center figure was tall, had cropped blond hair, and was holding a gun. “Commander, really nice to see you. And you, Mr. Vero.”

  “Well, well,” Merral heard himself say and pressed the button in his pocket. I must play for time. “Zachary Larraine! And what rank are you now, Zak?”

  The man winced. “I’m a commander in the Guards of the Lord.”

  “The Guards of the Lord? That’s a fine title,” Merral said. “Sounds like a new organization to me.” He saw that all three men wore the lapel badges.

  “It’s proved to be really necessary. Please follow me. I’ve got someone waiting to see you.”

  Vero and Merral were relieved of their cases, and they were led down a long corridor with portholes open to space. Halfway down, the captain stopped abruptly and, evidently listening to something in her earpiece, rounded on Merral. “Your ship is leaving!”

  He shrugged. “Sorry. We suspected the hospitality might be inadequate.”

  The captain snapped out commands. “Order it to stop! Track and prepare for disabling fire.” Then she moved toward the window and peered at the Sacrifice.

  “I wouldn’t look out,” Merral murmured as he turned away. “I really wouldn’t.” He saw Vero close his eyes and did the same.

  A second or so later, a series of flashes of light penetrated his closed eyelids. He heard gasps of pain.

  Merral counted to five, then looked around. The captain, Zak, and the other men were moaning, staggering around, and rubbing their eyes.

  “Sorry,” Merral said. “It should be temporary. But I think you’ll find that all your ship’s sensors have been stunned.”

  He peered out of the window to see the bulk of the Sacrifice sliding away into the darkness like a whale into water.

  “Good-bye,” he whispered.

  Eventually three new soldiers arrived to lead them on and showed them into a bare room in the core of the ship. There was just a dark table with two chairs in front and a single high-backed chair behind it.

  In the chair sat a lean, black-clad figure with a halo of white hair who looked up at them with sharp green eyes.

  Delastro. How utterly unsurprising.

  “Commander; Sentinel.” The voice was curt and conveyed displeasure. “I have come a very long way to find you. I am delighted that you are now in my presence, but I am very unenthusiastic that your ship has somehow eluded us. However, in the great scheme of things, it is of no matter. Please be seated.”

  They sat down. The three soldiers bowed with a deference that Merral found alarming.

  The prebendant stared at them, and Merral was struck by how fleshless his face had become. Like skin draped over a skull.

  “I’m afraid I do not have a lot of time. The Dominion may be here soon, and I need to be back at Earth, where there are important decisions to be made if the Assembly is to survive. In these hours of crisis, the Assembly needs right guidance.”

  Merral said nothing. Better to let events transpire.

  “You had a data package with you, Commander. Do I gather it includes an account of your travels since we last met?”

  “Yes,” Merral said. “It also includes a full account of what happened at Farholme. Would I be correct in thinking that the Assembly does not know of your real role there?”

  The prebendant waved his hand dismissively. “Perhaps, but that is all past. Besides—” he gestured to the little silver badge on his lapel—“you may have noticed this: p and d: purity and dedication. The mark of all those who have become Guards of the Lord. To be perfectly honest, their devotion to me is now so great that I don’t think they would believe an alternative view.”

  Delastro got to his feet and began striding around the room with his strange, long-legged gait, his eyes never seeming to leave them. “I didn’t just come out here for you. I came here to encourage all the frontline worlds with my presence. It’s hard to find anyone here amongst the soldiers of the Assembly who does not wear this badge. The present hour has turned many into my supporters. Fear has brought them to faith.”

  Merral merely shrugged, but Vero grimaced. “I’m sorry to hear it.”

  “Thank you, Sentinel. But the fact is, the future looms, and it is a very ominous one.”

  “Perhaps,” Merral said.

  “You know we can’t win, don’t you? At least not this present, slack Assembly with its feeble leadership, and not with the weaponry we have. We learned that in ten minutes last week; that’s all it took to destroy our ships at Bannermene. The armies of the lord-emperor are on their way to Earth, and there’s very little we can do to stop him.” The abnormally green eyes seemed to glare at Merral. “Very little. There are, however, two weapons we may be able to deploy. One of those is an interesting little concept that Professor Habbentz has come up with. But given the frailty of the present administration, I cannot be sure that it will be given the support it needs.”

  Then he stopped behind the chair, leaned on it with folded arms, and stared at them.

  “Now, Commander, you know my second hope. It is the envoy. I saw the imagery from Ynysmant; I saw him disable a baziliarch and rout a Krallen army. I need to know how to wield this figure. I have researched the matter deeply, but frankly, so far success has eluded me.”

  Merral gave a dismissive laugh. “You honestly think you can control the envoy? He is the servant of the Most High alone.” How strange; faced with this dreadful man I use the words of faith.

  “He is the servant of the Most High to protect and save the Assembly.” The emphasis rang out clearly. “I need that being. I need him—and his kind—to serve alongside us.” Delastro raised his bony hands heavenward and his voice acquired a splendid, resonant urgency. “I can see—as if it is happening before me—the very heavens split asunder and these powers descending and slaying all before them. The Krallen, the baziliarchs, these filth that call themselves men—all flung into the eternal fires of hell.”

  Vero shook his head in evident disagreement, but Merral just shrugged again.

  “I can have you killed, you
know,” Delastro said, peering at Merral.

  Merral returned the gaze. “Really? But, Prebendant, the envoy doesn’t answer to me.”

  The eyes were cold. “The evidence suggests otherwise.”

  Merral hesitated for only a second. “The evidence suggests that you are a madman.”

  That ended the first interview. Merral and Vero were hustled, none too gently, out of the room by the soldiers and separated. Merral was thrown into a small, windowless hold with a locked steel door and given a mattress, blankets, and food and drink regularly. There he spent much of the next several hours either sitting cross-legged on the floor or walking innumerable kilometers to and fro across the compartment.

  In that time he also examined and reexamined himself. Before the battle at Ynysmant, I was in rebellion against God. Is this similar?

  He decided that it wasn’t. This is a deeper crisis. Then I knew who God was; the issue was that I was choosing not to do what he wanted. And now? My confidence in who God is has gone. I grew up believing he was both loving and lord. Both of those characteristics I now question. I have done everything I could; I have been prepared to throw my life away; yet I have since lost two close friends, one in a preventable accident and the other in an utterly futile incident. If God ordained—or even allowed—these things, how can he be a God I can trust?

  After many hours, the door was opened and Zak entered.

  “The lord-prebendant wishes to see you.”

  Merral glimpsed two more armed men outside. “I don’t recognize that title,” Merral said. “The man’s insane, and you ought to know better.”

  Zak raised his hand in protest. “D’Avanos, you really don’t want to say that. Please!” Merral sensed a pleading element to the soldier’s words. “If you’re wise, you’ll be polite to the lord-prebendant. Believe me, he is the only hope we have.” The blue eyes had acquired the glint of fervor. “He brings unity, encourages purity, and upholds dedication. Without him, we would not be able to stand united against evil. With him, we have hope!”

  The phrases sounded so well worn Merral felt they had to be slogans. He stared hard at Zak. “Soldier, you’ve gone a long way since Fallambet Lake. But not in the right direction.”

  Zak swallowed, glared at him, and pushed him on.

  Delastro was sitting alone in the room, looking sideways at a wall. Zak and the two soldiers bowed. As the latter left the room, the prebendant swung on his chair to face Merral.

  “Commander—Forester—you may style yourself with whatever name you wish; it is immaterial to me. I have studied your data package and have talked at some length with Sentinel Enand.”

  Merral sensed a strange look on his face and in a moment had identified it. Disappointment.

  Delastro, evidently in no mood for a dialogue, continued. “Plainly, you had an eventful journey, and I applaud your courage. I have read, and reread, the sections on the appearances of this envoy. It is as you say: you have done nothing special to merit his intervention. He appears to be capricious and unpredictable, and to defy all attempts at management.” The tone of disapproval was evident.

  The prebendant steepled his fingers and peered over them at Merral. The look on Delastro’s face was that of a man who has been forced to come to terms with bad news.

  “Would it be correct to say that you and this envoy probably aren’t even on speaking terms at the moment?”

  “I hate to agree with you, but there you are probably right.”

  “I suspected as much. Now, I have been considering what to do with you. I cannot afford to have you heading to the Assembly. That would confuse matters. There are weaklings and babes in the faith there. I could, of course, order Colonel Larraine to kill you.” His gaze shifted to beyond Merral. “You’d do it quite happily, wouldn’t you?”

  “My lord, if you commanded it, I would,” Zak said, and Merral wondered if he had ever heard anything so chilling.

  Delastro threw open his hands as if to say, See? “It would be very easy. He’d just open the hatch and let the vacuum take you. Accidents happen in space. Don’t they, Zak?”

  “Yes, sir,” came the automatic answer.

  The faintest remains of a smile appeared on the pale lips. “D’Avanos, if I felt it was worth it, I’d have you and Enand killed. But I am a man of economy. I only really deal in death when it’s absolutely necessary.”

  Merral held his tongue, and the prebendant continued.

  “But I was struck by your report of how you marooned the Sacrifice’s crew members on that target practice world. So I’ve had a similar idea. We are going to take a slightly longer route home and drop you and your friend off on a world in the final stages of seeding, just awaiting its first human colony; you two are going to be it. I’ll leave you with a lifepod and emergency supplies and drop you somewhere near the equator. You’ll be all right. At least for a while.”

  Delastro brandished a tight, almost leering smile that Merral felt made him look like death incarnate. “But of course, not for long. The Dominion—and the Krallen—will not be far behind. Maybe under the control of Lezaroth. I think he’s going to be looking very hard for you, and a man like that will find you in the end.” He gave another smile that had all the warmth of a winter’s day. “I like being merciful; I feel it is appropriate. So what do you say? Do you object to being a castaway? Or would you choose death instead?”

  “I’d choose to be a castaway with Vero.”

  The prebendant glared at him. “Then so be it. I don’t wish to see you again. Colonel, have the guards return him to his cell.”

  Back in his cell and aware of the growing vibration of the ship’s hull as they started to move, Merral reflected on his encounter with Delastro. Something in it had challenged him. He rose to his feet and began pacing the floor.

  That man is evil; of that I have no doubt. Yet there was a logical implication in that idea. If there is evil, surely there has to be good as well? The world cannot be the moral equivalent of Below-Space, all an interminable gray. There is evil, and that surely requires the presence of good.

  Merral felt he had established something. Almost as if in the bottomless pit he was sinking into his foot had found a solid rock.

  Over the next few hours he built upon that logic. Not only are there evil and good, but I do not want the evil to triumph. I cannot be neutral, and I do not wish to be neutral; I choose good.

  A strange period no longer than an hour elapsed, where the ship seemed to do strange, stomach-churning things, and Merral surmised that they were passing through a Gate.

  After this, he sat down on the floor and began to argue things out further. Not only were there a good and an evil to choose between, but there was a seductiveness to evil. Somehow this man—with a fine brain, much learning, and considerable talent—had allowed himself to be corrupted.

  Merral felt oddly scared. I have seen the lord-emperor, but his is an unknown and inexplicable evil to me because I do not know his history. Delastro is different; I know more or less how he became what he is. He shivered. I could have gone down that road. Maybe I still could.

  “God, help me not to become like that,” he said under his breath and was suddenly aware that in that little phrase he had uttered his first prayer in days.

  There were two more Gate transits and untold hours between them before they took Merral from his cell and threw him into a two-seat, egg-shaped lifepod vessel with Vero.

  “Are you okay, my friend?” Concern showed on the dark face.

  “Yes,” Merral said as he strapped himself in. “I’m better. On the road to recovery.”

  “No thanks to Delastro.”

  “On the contrary, he’s helped me see things clearly.”

  27

  The last person Merral and Vero saw on the ship was Zak, who sealed the door, gave a shrug of his shoulders that seemed to emphasize his powerlessness, and then stepped away. A succession of events followed: a series of small bangs, some jolts, a number of sharp turns, and th
en the sensation of falling.

  “Vero,” Merral said quietly, “I have just realized something.”

  “Which is?” His voice sounded strange.

  “I have a burning ambition to see Delastro get justice.”

  More sharp turns followed.

  “That’s . . . great,” said Vero without enthusiasm. In a moment, a retching sound told Merral that his friend was being sick.

  As the tiny craft continued its headlong descent, Merral strained his head, trying to peer out the window in the hope that he might get some clues to their destination’s geography. The visibility out of the very small portholes was limited, but the dominance of greens and blues suggested it was going to be a lot more hospitable than the target practice world of Nithloss, to which he had consigned Slabodal and his crewmates. I’m sure if he knew this was my fate too, he’d laugh.

  Then, all too abruptly, they were spiraling in through dense cloud. The loud, vibrating boom of rockets was followed by a sharp, stomach-punching deceleration that pushed him back against the seat. Merral held his breath, and then, finally, after two manic jolts the journey was over.

  Slowly, he found the switch that opened the hatches, and warm, fresh air drifted in. He tumbled out, avoiding contact with the still-warm hull, and blinked.

  Above was a pure blue sky in which a dazzling sun shone. Below was an almost bare ridge of gray, rough rock. And in between, all around, and stretching to infinity, was a limitless expanse of green forest.

  “Lovely,” Merral said.

  Vero staggered out and gazed around. “Trees!” he muttered without enthusiasm, then was promptly sick again.

  Letting Vero recover from his travel sickness, Merral paced around, taking in impressions of the world.

  The air was fresh and clear and the scent of the pines was strong. There were sounds of birds, a buzzard calling, and that indefinable, faint murmur of trees basking and swaying gently in the sun. The ridge they were on rose unevenly to a massif of snowcapped teeth, their unweathered, razor-edged outlines reminders that this was a world that had only just acquired wind and rain and oxygen. Above the mountains, clouds were gathering.