Dark Foundations (100 page)

There was a click
.
A door in the wall opened and a dark-skinned woman entered.

Ethan rose stiffly from the bench and embraced her. “Eliza,” he said. “Always good to see you.”

“Eeth! It's always good to see you too. It's been a long time since we met privately.” She looked around with an air of appreciation. “Nice place to meet.”

“I spend enough time in the office. And this is just round the corner. I like to come here to sit and think when I'm in town. The trees give shade in summer. Please sit down.” He nodded to the door. “You saw the guard?”

“Yes.” Eliza brushed pine needles off a seat and lowered herself carefully down.

“They like it when I come here. It is secure.” Ethan heard the tang of irritation in his voice. “‘Is it secure?' That's all the guards ask. . . . This wretched new security.”

“We're jumpy, Eeth. You can feel it. No one knows what we face. But it
is
bewildering.”

“It's more than that; it's ominous. In four months, war has gone from being ancient history to being a near inevitability. The twentieth defense vessel will be launched tomorrow. Yesterday I signed for thirty long-range protection ships with weapons that hadn't even been invented last spring.”

She shook her head. “An extraordinary time. . . . My boys have just enlisted.”

“I'm sorry.”

“I'm sorry and proud.”

“How are you, Eliza? In these days of trial, we mustn't forget common courtesies.”

Eliza flashed white teeth. “No.” She paused. “I'm kept by grace.”

“And how are the sentinels?”

“Ah. The sentinels, like everyone else right now are in . . . well . . . turbulence.”

“So I heard.”

“But how are
you
, Eeth? You are the man bearing the weight of the world.”

“That's certainly what it feels like. I suppose . . .” He hesitated. “No. I'm okay. Well, as okay as a man my age can be in a job like this at a time like this. But Eliza, it's pretty tough.” Ethan's fingers knotted together. “All these new pressure groups want to see me. And I'm expected to be so many things: the master of every fact, the arbiter of every crisis, the chairman of every debate. Above all, I'm expected to hold things together when everything is flying apart. Yes, that's it. Not so much bearing the weight of the world as keeping it together.”

As Eliza nodded, he read sympathy in her eyes.

“Have you seen Andreas lately? I invited him as well.”
Why am I so worried that he will not turn up?

“No. I gather he has been busy.”

“You have followed the disputes?”

“The Custodians of the Faith call them
debates,
Eeth.” Any amusement in Eliza's voice was edged with sorrow. “But yes, and if it wasn't that similar issues have arisen among the sentinels, I would barely believe them possible. So many debates about so little that is truly relevant. So little light, so much heat. They are spending so much time arguing about the crisis that they are failing to respond to it.”

“That's part of the evil, Eliza, you know that. The enemy of the Assembly wants division. And he's getting it. Everyone seems to be walking in opposite directions now.”

The door opened and Andreas walked in. He looked flustered and sweaty. “Ethan, Eliza. Sorry for the delay. I just left an ongoing discussion that was getting quite animated.”

Ethan sensed a slight distancing in his tone.
Our old easy friendship has gone.
Will it return?
The thought saddened him.

Andreas sat down, pulled out a handkerchief, and wiped the sweat off his face. “I had to hurry. Can't stop long. It's just a fleeting visit. I must get back in case it gets too heated. Have I missed anything?”

“No. I was merely moaning.”

“With justification. These pressure groups—how are you handling them?”

Ethan gave a heavy sigh. “Where did
they
come from? Suddenly everyone in the Assembly seems to be part of a pressure group. Gate manufacturers, the educationalists, the colonists, and a hundred more. And they all want to see me. They are all polite, all insistent, and they all take up time.”

“And they are all getting shriller,” Andreas observed.

“You noticed, eh? When they began, they merely made suggestions; now they are making requests.”

“It will soon be demands.” Andreas's green eyes seemed hard. “Ethan, I have seen the trends and I think . . .” He broke off. “No, that can wait. Now tell me: what do you have for us that is new?”

“I was really just hoping to have a chat with you both about how you see things. It's over four months since the Assembly went on a war footing. But I have some information on the intruder worlds.”

“Aha.” Eliza nodded. “I heard rumors that they had been found. We were . . . well . . . relieved.”

You don't need to explain why
.
No one needed the
confirmation that this whole scare has a real basis more than the sentinels who started it.

Andreas put his handkerchief away. “I had heard too. But tell us the facts.”

Ethan picked up the folder.
They seem to get thicker
. “The final report has defense implications, so it's being kept quiet. The deep space observation satellite at Bannermene has found at least twenty worlds beyond Farholme with signs of human activity. Strictly, I'm told, it's ‘intelligent life with industrial activity,' but we may assume
Homo sapiens
.”

He pulled out a number of glossy sheets on which were printed images of fuzzy spheres on black starry backgrounds. Most were brown or gray and some were mottled. On some, white patches were present. Around each image were text summaries, diagrams, and graphs.

“It's the best the scope can get, but the nearest world is nearly four hundred light-years away.”

“Remind me,” Eliza said as she stared at the images, “how far away is Bannermene?”

“About three hundred light-years. So, of course, these images are snapshots of how these worlds were at least four hundred years ago. The spectroscopic data apparently suggests advanced industry and that is backed by the detection of some faint but clearly artificial electromagnetic signals.”

He watched them examine the images.

“We have compared the new data from ancient and much poorer data files that go back to the Seeding preparation surveys of the region in the third millennium. Over the last ten thousand years, there have been major changes on these worlds. Changes that also imply human activity.”

Andreas gestured to one. “They don't look like Assembly worlds. They're brown. They look like those images of pre-Seeding Mars that you see. Where's the water? Are there no brimful seas? No vast briny oceans? How tragic.”

So speaks the poet
. “Good point. That's one of a number of oddities that the research people are working on. Three things seem to be striking. One, which you have noted, is that none of the worlds are very wet. They don't seem to have oceans; there may be lakes, but that's all. That suggests they don't do Seeding as well as we do.”

Eliza gave a low grunt that seemed to convey that she found the news significant.

“Another thing is that some of the intruder worlds have odd orbits. See those diagrams? That suggests they don't have gravity modification—at least not on the scale we have. That's to be kept quiet, because it suggests an area where we may be militarily superior.”

Eliza pointed to a diagram of orbits. “I'm no planetary scientist, but a world that orbits like that is going to have either a pretty ghastly winter or one appalling summer.”

“Or both,” Andreas added.

“So we believe. And that has implications. I'm told that when we seed worlds we aim to create planets where, from fairly early on, you can live out in the open most of the year.”

Andreas frowned. “Not here you can't,” he said, holding up a sheet so he could look at it better. “Do they live underground? Do they only stay indoors? Do they never walk among trees? never see birds fly across the sky?” His tone was pensive. “That would be sad. They would have become different than us.”

“Yes. And there is a final thing,” Ethan said, “a sobering thing. Analysis has shown that many of the worlds have high levels of atmospheric pollutants, and in two cases, large amounts of carbon in the atmosphere.”

“Carbon dioxide?”

“No, carbon particles. The best interpretation is that these are the results of warfare, using massive weapons that burn up everything living.”

“God help us,” Eliza said quietly.

Andreas shook his head and put down the sheet, his face expressing pain. “So they fail to make proper worlds and then destroy them? That is an abomination. You should announce that. It will crush dissent.”

Ethan sighed. “It's an interpretation, Andreas. And it might cause panic.”

Eliza handed back her sheet. “I find it tragic and scary. And it gives me nightmares. But it confirms the threat. They look to be a tough and nasty people.”

“Exactly. We only had the final report two weeks ago. Since then, whatever caution we had on military matters has been cast away.”

Andreas stared into the distance. “By their worlds you shall know them. How very remarkable that the very character of our enemies should be so apparent from so far away. But I echo Eliza; these look to be a hard people. I trust we will not be too soft.” He seemed to shudder before turning to Ethan. “Thank you for this. I will keep it to myself. But I really must get back. We are trying to define what's happening to the Assembly in theological terms. It is producing, well . . . heated dialogue. . . . Was there anything else you wanted to say?”

“Andreas, I just wanted to ask if you had any insights, or advice for me about what's happening here.”

“Here?” Andreas paused for several moments before continuing. “I just think that what I warned you about when we last met together applies even more so. We're seeing a loss of unity, a failure of agreement, a growth of divergence. An ancient poet said something; let me translate it into Communal: ‘Things fall apart, the center cannot hold.' And he went on to write: ‘The best lack all convictions, while the worst are full of passionate intensity.' And it's happening.” He gave Eliza a strange and stern glance. “I'm going to be honest with my old friend.”

Ethan braced himself.

“I hate to say this, but our worlds do need direction.”

“I told you I am a chairman, a consensus leader.”
Is that irritation I hear in my voice?

“And you do a great job at that. But the world has changed. It is as if the bonds that united us have loosed. There is growing divergence and disagreement everywhere.” Andreas's green eyes flashed. “Look, when this started people were stunned. But that phase is over. That's why you now have the pressure groups. They all have their agenda. And the only answer is a positive leadership that acts to hold people together. Ethan, you
must
lead.”

“No. And I remind you of the constitution. I can't.”

“You can. And anyway you can always alter the constitution. We need unity for the coming struggle. And a strong leader will turn attention away from these pressure groups. Then you just ban them for six months in the public interest.”

“But I can't do that.”

Andreas tugged his beard in evident frustration. “In a time of war, you can. Declare a state of emergency. The custodians would support you. But you must
lead
.” There was clear annoyance in his voice.

“Andreas, I repeat, I am not that sort of a man.” He instantly regretted his sharp tone.

“And I respect you for that, but think of the Assembly. Lead!”

“So are you saying I am too weak?”
I should stop. I'm getting too angry.

“Well,
weak
isn't the best word but . . .”

“So you are.”

“Look, this is doing no good.” Andreas rose, his face agitated. “I must be off anyway. Eliza, my apologies.”

He turned to Ethan, an intense passion in his eyes. “Ethan, some parting advice. You say you are not the man. Then beware, because there is, among our scared worlds, a hunger for a strong leadership. And if you do not fill that hunger, then don't blame me if it gets filled in a way that you do not like.”

He left the garden with brisk steps.

His heart beating rapidly, Ethan turned to Eliza who seemed close to tears, then quickly looked away. “I'm sorry. I really am. I value Andreas, but he has the ability to touch raw nerves.”

“But, Eeth, you
did
overreact. You put words in his mouth. ‘Am I too weak?'”

“Sorry. That was unwise.” Ethan stared at her. “What's happening to us, Eliza? What's wrong?”

She heaved a sigh. “Sin. That's what's wrong.” She rose. “Look, I'd better go. This has been upsetting. I'll be in touch another day.” She patted Ethan on the back and then left the garden.

Ethan sat for some time with his head in his hands. With a sigh he then placed the sheets back in the folder, pausing at the last picture of the far-off world.

Our enemies lie there, so far away that if they sent a ray of light it would take over seven hundred years to reach us.

But in one sense, they are already here.

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