Dark Foundations (66 page)

Isterrane Airport was frantically busy and Merral was not surprised to find that they were diverted to a side runway. He found Vero waiting for him at the foot of the steps and was struck by how drained and vulnerable his friend seemed.

Vero drew him aside to a patch of shade by a corner of the hangar and listened solemn-faced as Merral tried to express something of the horror of the morning.

“And, Vero,” Merral said at last, struggling to find the right words, “I'm sorry to say that there was no trace that the defenses did any good.”

“I know.” Vero looked over his dark glasses and Merral could sense the pain in his friend's eyes. “T-they were too few. The latest weapons haven't got through. They were overwhelmed.”

“But how can we resist? It's not just the Krallen—that weapon . . . what was it?”

“T-they launched a five-ton rod of t-tungsten from the ship. It hit at around twenty kilometers a second. ‘Think of it as a directed meteorite,' Gerry says.”

“The Krallen plus this
Triumph of Sarata
are an overwhelming threat.”

There was a pause. “Yes. We agree. A-and as a result, a decision has been made. W-we have a strategy, and we need your cooperation.”

“Vero, after what I've seen today, you have it.”

“Thank you.” A bulky transporter landed nearby and Vero turned to watch it before looking at Merral. “Look, it's a risk, but I'm going to take the chance that, for whatever reason, the Dominion can't or won't in fact read our thoughts. Or, at least, not here. And I need your approval.”

“So, you've changed your mind?”

Vero's face was pinched. “L-let's just say, I've modified it. Anyway, we have worked out a plan with Azeras. He, Perena, and a small crew will try to seize the
Rahllman's Star
. They will go to the point where it is hidden, summon it out of Below-Space so it will be already moving as they get near, and then dock and enter it. Then, as fast as they can, they will head to the Assembly.” Vero stared at his feet for a moment. “The hope is that the
Triumph
will give chase and leave the system. If Perena and Azeras can escape, then it would give the Assembly a vital weapon.”

“That would be true even if the
Triumph
stayed and didn't chase them. But can it be done?”

“It's tight, v-very tight. But it might well work.”

“Vero, it sounds very risky. And it might not save Farholme.”

“No. But do you a-approve? I need to have your approval.”

“Yes. We have no choice. Not now. I guessed Perena was planning something drastic. She's a chess player.”

“Yes. That's the thing. Chess.”

“So what do I need to do?”

“Spoken like a true soldier. Now listen, when you meet Corradon, he will want to surrender. Clemant won't argue against it. Don't disagree, but ask that a meeting be held at Langerstrand to discuss surrender terms—perhaps with this Lezaroth personally. You want the best deal, guarantees—that sort of thing. Tomorrow morning. Try for a late-morning meeting, say eleven. And at the meeting, try and keep them occupied.” Vero stared over his glasses at Merral. “That's the t-task. Keep them occupied. D-distract them. They have to focus on
you
. Got it?”

“Yes. Distract them.”

“Good. Now, I have business here at the airport. We have a lot of equipment ready to be delivered when the time is right and not before. I'll be in touch.”

Vero hesitated, then touched Merral's shoulder lightly. “Keep going, my friend. And have faith.” He walked away quickly without looking back.

Rather than take a rotorcraft, Merral chose to be driven through Isterrane to the Planetary Administration building to get a sense of what was happening.

It took some skilled and aggressive driving by Lloyd to get them through. Most of the minor roads were blocked by the new ditch and rampart systems and with fortified gates being built across the main roads, there was a further delay.

Merral saw irregulars openly on the streets in twos and threes, wearing their pale brown jerkins and berets and carrying XQ rifles or cutter guns over their shoulders. Regulars were rarer, but Merral glimpsed some green-uniformed soldiers overseeing the creation of a defensive emplacement.

The direction signs to the refuges were flashing and supply trucks were being unloaded at the entrances. In places, metal grilles were being screwed in over ground-floor windows.

Isterrane felt utterly different. There was a mood of urgency, anxiety, and—deep below it—fear. No one laughed or sang. The few children Merral saw had their hands held by adults.

And they don't know about Tantaravekat yet
. The dreadful scenes from there seemed to superimpose themselves onto the city about him. He shuddered.

Clemant, his face so bloodless that he looked like some sort of puppet, met Merral outside Corradon's office and veered him away from the door.

“The representative has taken the news very badly,” he said, his voice a near whisper. “He was tempted to make a unilateral decision to open the Library. I pointed out that this would have been
most
unwise, unconstitutional, even illegal. I didn't want to use the police on him.”

Merral nodded.

“I gather the defenses at Tantaravekat failed?” Clemant's dark eyes also seemed to ask questions.

“Yes. As far as we can tell.”
There is no point in repeating Vero's excuses
.

“I saw the imagery of the blast from the
Triumph
. It looked . . . overwhelming.” The advisor's fingers intertwined with a nervous energy.

“It was.”

“Commander,” Clemant said, his voice filled with a quiet, almost quivering intensity, “unless you know better, I consider that we are completely vulnerable.”

“I'm afraid I don't know better.”

“Professor Habbentz has ideas—oh,
plenty
of ideas—but nothing to hand. And it seems that our friend Mr. V. has not delivered either.” There was a deep and bitter sarcasm in his tone.

What an ironic tragedy
that at a time when we have a legitimate focus for anger it's turned against our friends. Another triumph of sin and evil.

“I'm sorry,” Merral replied. “I had hoped for deliverance, but none has come.” He looked at Clemant, hoping for some hint of mercy or sympathy in his eyes, but found none.

“It's not
just
you. But we have no weapons. No defenses. Nothing.” His tone revealed a deep frustration. “And the rumor of what has happened at Tantaravekat is spreading. The people are becoming scared. There are rumors of panic.” A muscle in his face twitched.

Merral, who had given little thought to the implications of the public mood, suddenly saw that the threat of panic was another potent pressure on the leadership.
No wonder Clemant is worried.

“Shall we go and see the representative?” Merral asked, suddenly tired of secret meetings.

“As you wish. But I think you're wasting your time talking about defense. We're beyond that now.”

“I think we are.”

They found the representative seated in his chair, leaning over the table. His head was in his hands.

A broken man
.

On the table in front of him was a large printout of the latest imagery of the steel gray sprawling mass of the
Triumph of Sarata
with labels pasted on it.

As Corradon looked up at Merral, his face seemed tired and his eyes bloodshot.

“So, Commander,” he said and Merral heard raggedness in the once smooth voice, “let this meeting be brief. We have no defenses. We are utterly exposed.”

He gestured to the image and Merral read the words on the labels.
Anti-missile systems?
. . .
Krallen landers?
. . .
Kinetic energy projectile magazines?
. . .
High-power broad spectrum lasers?
With each phrase, his heart sank lower.

“It seems to me, Commander, that all we can do is yield.”

“Sir, you are in charge. If that's what you want to do, I won't object.”

An expression of relief flooded across Corradon's face. “I was afraid you wanted some sort of last-ditch stand.”

“No.”

“It's not cowardice, you know.” The words were almost feverishly rapid. “It's the lives. We are utterly outmatched.”

Merral looked at the image again. “I know. But I think we should seek the best terms. I would like to have a meeting tomorrow with Lezaroth and the ambassadors at Langerstrand. You and me, sir, and the three of them. I will ask for guarantees.”

There was an exchange of glances between Corradon and Clemant.

“The best terms,” Corradon said. “Yes, why not? They can hardly object.”

“Well, Under-Captain, looks like it's all over,” Lezaroth said as he finished listening to the message from Corradon.

Hanax, who had been watching the launching of more Krallen deployment pods, turned to him, a sullen disappointment evident in his eyes. “Have they surrendered?”

“Effectively. There is a meeting tomorrow. All being well, the Library will be in our hands by evening. Then there will be a few loose ends to tie up.”

“Somehow I was expecting more of a fight.”

“Afraid not, Under-Captain. They are realists after all. So no medals for you this time.”

“There'll be another time,” Hanax said with a thin and clearly fabricated smile. A few minutes later he left the bridge.

He's gone off to sulk, no doubt
. Lezaroth considered whether he ought to attend the meeting.
I can hardly trust the ambassadors. It will be entertaining to humiliate them. Besides, it will be intriguing to see this D'Avanos in the flesh. I will seize him there and then. I wonder how he will take being told that he is to be hauled off to Nezhuala as an exhibit.

He paused for a moment, struck by the peculiarity that if D'Avanos
was
the great adversary he had done nothing to merit the title.
Not so far, apparently
. Yet there had been oddities that deserved investigation. The chief of these was, of course, the way that a pack of Krallen had gone missing.
The excuses offered by Hazderzal and Tinternli were utterly pathetic.
I need to know what happened there.

A sudden thought came to mind.
With the new dwelling tower finished, the baziliarch is out of its casing and no longer dormant. I can utilize him
to tap D'Avanos's mind and find out what really happened
. The practicalities were straightforward. He would meet D'Avanos and the pathetic Corradon in a room next to the baziliarch's chamber, have the intermediary nearby, and get the results fed directly into his bio-augment circuits.

Just then Hanax returned.

“Oh, Under-Captain,” Lezaroth said, “I'm going down to the surrender meeting tomorrow. So you'll be running all this for, oh, at least a dozen hours. Feel up to it?”