Dark Foundations (44 page)

“I see.” Delastro's colorless face showed irritation. “So you don't trust even your chaplain-in-chief?”

“It was policy, Prebendant. A matter of security. Don't take it personally.”

“Oh, I won't. But I worry about you, Commander. I do worry about you. The pressures of the job . . .”

“Thank you for your concern. Now, if you will excuse me, I have a meeting.”

As Merral walked away he felt a clear foreboding that, sooner or later, there would be real trouble with Delastro.

That evening Merral read and reread the transcript of the interview with Betafor that Vero had sent. Not long after, Vero himself called him on the secure line, from an unfinished room. They discussed the transcript and Merral realized how disappointed his friend was about how little of real relevance had been revealed.

“Has Sarudar Azeras spoken yet?” Merral asked.

“I visited him just now briefly and he spoke a few words. His Communal is surprisingly good. There are a lot of old words mixed in with Farholmen. But I'm waiting till tomorrow to talk properly to him. You'll be there then. You can stay overnight tomorrow?”

“Yes. I've arranged to be free. Zak will get me in an emergency. But yesterday's absence was noted.”

“By who?”

“Corradon and the prebendant.”

“Ah. Not good. My friend, tomorrow I want you to do most of the questioning.”

“Why me?”

“You are a military man. I think our sarudar may better relate to you.”

“Lloyd, any further thoughts on Betafor?” Merral asked over supper.

His aide put his fork down. “Sir, I just don't have a good feeling about that thing,” he said in a slow, almost defiant tone. “It's untrustworthy. I think it's a threat. We know it lies.”

“But there must be some good in her. She called us in to rescue this Azeras and save his life.”

“True enough. But I don't think it was done out of love. I reckon there's more to this rescue than meets the eye. It knows what it wants. I just don't trust it.”

“Sergeant, you seem reluctant to consider Betafor as a female person.”

“Yes.” Lloyd grimaced. “Sir, I'm afraid that's a deliberate decision I've made.”

“How so?”

Lloyd slowly traced a circle on the table. “See, sir, I reckon it's quite possible that I may have to blast it into fragments.” He looked up, his blue eyes troubled. “And I would have to think before shooting a woman. But I don't think I'll hesitate if it's only a thing.”

16

T
he
Triumph of Sarata
surfaced well outside even the most generous estimate of the boundary of the Alahir system. In fact, even to Lezaroth's enhanced eyesight, Alahir itself was merely a brighter- than-normal star. But they were now only ten light hours away from Farholme and this was the location designated for making final arrangements.

The moment the
Triumph
surfaced, Deltathree started scanning the wavebands, pulling out static-damaged images and scratchy conversations from Farholme transmissions. As the two other ships emerged from the Nether-Realms, Lezaroth went to look at the data. Coveting the Allenix ability to watch several channels simultaneously, he skimmed through the media channels one by one, gratified that his newly learned Farholmen Communal was adequate to the task. The first channel showed sports, the second dance, the third a religious discussion, and the fourth a travelogue about some jungle.
They may have lost the Gate, but in their own primitive, backwater way they are still functioning
. He switched to the fifth channel, one that broadcast news, and paid more attention.

The first item involved a crisis-forced reorganization of industry, but the second item concerned the Farholme Defense Force and the commissioning of a thousand more troops. The camera showed lines of uniformed men marching past a podium where a tall, uniformed man apparently in his late twenties stood erect.

“Commander Merral D'Avanos surveying the new troops,” said the unseen commentator.

There was something about the figure that aroused Lezaroth's surprised interest.
This is no armchair general;
this man is young and fit
.
There is something about him that says to me that he has fought already. Can this be . . . ?
But then the news moved on to sports.

Suddenly Lezaroth remembered something and, with a fierce urgency, ran the images back.
Yes, there it was! A single medal on the man's chest. What would the Assembly award medals to a young man for? Surely, only for fighting! And what event could have triggered the development of a rudimentary but growing military force?
He smiled with the certainty of it all.
The same thing.

No, the steersman was right. All or part of the
Rahllman's Star
has been found and attacked.

“Deltathree,” Lezaroth said, with mounting excitement, “that man—I didn't get the name—D'Avan-something—copy me anything on him: who he is, where he is from, and anything else. . . . Oh, and why he was made commander. Do it while we're here and again when we take up position, and have the cable link put up.”

“As you wish, sir. The name was Commander Merral D'Avanos.”

“Thank you. And, Deltathree,” Lezaroth lowered his voice, “my request is private. It is not to be known by anyone else.”
Especially not Hanax.

“As you wish, sir.”

Pondering his newly gained information with a mixture of unease and satisfaction, Lezaroth walked slowly back to the bridge where he found the priest arranging with Hanax about the sacrifice to celebrate surfacing.
Very good
.
Let the under-captain occupy himself with such matters.

Comms told him that the ambassadors were ready to talk. Informing Hanax that he was not to be disturbed—an action that had the incidental benefit of reminding the man that he was outside the decision loop—Lezaroth went to a conference room and sealed the door. He then waited five minutes; the ambassadors needed to be reminded who was in charge. As he did, he reviewed the overall situation again.
There's a prize here. Whoever seizes it for the lord-emperor will be richly rewarded. The ambassadors
know this and I know it. Hanax may know it, although I have made sure that he's little threat. But whatever happens, I need to be sure I take the prize.

Finally, he switched on the link.

Ambassador Hazderzal came onscreen and with him was a woman with long, golden hair who was introduced as Ambassador Tinternli.

As Lezaroth gazed at them, he found himself struggling to find the right words. Hazderzal looked polished, gentlemanly, no—distinguished—and Tinternli looked elegant and enchanting. From what he had learned of Assembly values, Lezaroth felt sure they would make the right impression. If there was to be an attempt to seduce Farholme to the Dominion, this was the way to do it.

“My compliments on your appearance,” Lezaroth said, deciding that flattery would do no harm.
Of course,
the praise really goes to the tissue programmers and flesh sculptors
. A closer glance showed a heavy look of tiredness about both of them.
Ah
,
the presence of the baziliarch in Nether-Realms travel had affected them, too.

After more politely formal and utterly insincere greetings, they moved on to rehearse what was to happen over the next few weeks. The
Dove
was to continue its journey toward Farholme in Standard-Space and in about a day's time would make its broadcast announcing that it was a peaceful emissary from Lord-Emperor Nezhuala. They would request rights to land and then, later, ask to create a diplomatic base. While the
Dove
's team did all it could to cement Farholme into the Dominion, the construction of the base would continue. When it was well advanced, the dormant baziliarch would be freighted down and installed in a chamber where, when needed, it could be awoken. While this was happening, the
Triumph
would be present nearby in the shallowest Nether-Realms with a hundred-kilometer-long cable linking it to a tiny satellite in Standard-Space so that they could monitor all that was happening.

As this was discussed, there was the first moment of open tension when Lezaroth reminded the ambassadors that they had just thirty days to gain what the lord-emperor wanted by diplomatic means. “Beyond that,” he announced, “I will take over and we will be in the military option.”
I will not risk a situation in which I achieve all that the lord-emperor desires of me and return victorious to Khalamaja, only to find that he and the fleet have departed for Earth.

The ambassadors' response was reluctant but obedient; they would hold to the thirty-day deadline. Lezaroth was gratified that the lesson about who was in charge had been already learned.

There were other matters to deal with. On the basis that there might be a visit to the
Dove
, the ambassadors wanted to send all the tissue-sculpting units over to the
Triumph.
Lezaroth agreed. There was some debate over when, if ever, the ambassadors were to be allowed to use the single Krallen pack carried by the
Dove
. Here Lezaroth would have preferred to maintain supreme control, but in the end, he yielded responsibility to the ambassadors. It was a small concession that he felt was fairly meaningless and having won the overall victory, he felt he could be magnanimous.
It is folly to crush the defeated too much
.

The conversation ended with mutual good wishes in which the insincerity was transparent. Lezaroth switched the screen off and left for the bridge. It was busy with the full complement of officers. Lezaroth caught a glimpse of Hanax's face under its tangle of red hair and derived pleasure from the fact that the man was scowling. He ordered a descent back into the Nether-Realms and then gestured the weapons officer over.

“Wepps, after descent, I want all the Krallen checked—each one out of its casing, powered up, and all systems tested. And a full status report to me.”

Wepps wrinkled his brow. “Cap'n, you're a hard man these days. Can't we wait until we're in orbit? Even with 3 percent nonoperational—and that's unheard of—we'd still have around one hundred and forty-five thousand ready.”

“Wepps, I want us ready to launch a fast, crushing attack from the moment we reach Farholme orbit. I want full readiness before we get there.”

“As you will, Cap'n.” There was a pause. “So you anticipate us needing the Krallen despite this diplomacy stuff?”

Lezaroth looked forward to where a small star at the center of the screen vanished behind the gathering mists of the Nether-Realms.

“Wepps, trust my intuition: we are going to war.”

Early the next morning Merral and Lloyd flew to the Manalahi Shoals. Vero met them on the strip and Merral, squinting against the glare of the white coral sand, envied his friend's extra-dark glasses.