Infinite Day (106 page)

Merral took Vero back to the Circle, showed him around, and introduced him to the team leaders. Then they went into his room, where they could talk privately.

Merral turned to his friend. “I had hoped that we would not have to fight. But it looks like we may have to hold this place for a dozen hours.”

“My friend, you must try. It will force Nezhuala to focus on events here.”

“Perhaps. But it may be hard.”

“I'll do what I can to help.”

“Are you staying?”

There was an evasive look. “No. I have work to do elsewhere. But, please don't press me.”

“I won't.”

“In fact, I need to go quite soon.”

An idea struck Merral. “Before you do, I want you to see this.”

He led his friend down the narrow tunnels off the command bunker until they came to a door labeled Archaeology Site: Take Care!

“Vero, you remember how this is built on older fortifications? Look.”

They entered the darkened corridor and Merral found a light switch. The faint light that came on revealed a short tunnel with a low roof; on one side was a transparent sheet. They stepped forward so that they could see behind it an ancient wall on which words were written in fading and peeling paint.

“Graffiti!” Vero said peering at it. “From the first occupants of these tunnels?”

“So it seems. Can you read it?”

“Some of it.” They wandered along peering at the scrawls.

“So many years ago,” he murmured. “This one is ancient English. ‘I miss Louisiana.' I wonder what she looked like?”

“Are you sure Louisiana is a girl's name?”

“Female version of Louis. Got to be.”

Vero moved on to the next one, which was on two lines, and ran his finger over the covering sheet. “Got this. The first line reads, ‘How long's this war gonna go on for?'
Gonna
means ‘going to.'”

“Makes sense. The second line?”

“It's in quote marks by a different hand: ‘The answer, my friend, is blowing in the wind.'”

“That's a bit cryptic.”

Vero raised a hand. “No, I remember that line. It's by a famous Welsh poet.”

Merral, reminded that his father's Historic was Welsh, thought of his family and the distance between them and the fact that he was probably not going to see them again. In an instant the pain of war seemed very real and sharp to him. He sighed. “Soldiers speaking a long-dead language very far from home. I would never have thought I could identify with them.”

“We can,” Vero said in a flat tone. Then he stepped back from the wall. “Well, another day, maybe I can look at the rest. Look, I must go. I have work to do.”

“Jorgio is worried about you. Is this diversion risky?”

The smile was strange. “My friend, the only d-diversions likely to work are risky.”

Merral sensed an awkwardness between them. “I have no idea what you're planning. It's nothing wrong, is it?”

Vero seemed to take a deep breath. “It's not wrong.
Not quite
.”

“Not quite? I'm worried some of your schemes get very close to being wrong.”

Vero gave a sudden mournful shake of his head. “Perena said things like that.” Without warning he banged his fist against the wall. “I still miss her, Merral.
Every day
.”

Some moments passed before Merral said anything. “I'm sorry. We'd have lost a long time ago without her.”

“That doesn't help.” Vero gave a shake of his head. “Look, I must be off. Take care, pray for me, and—if all goes wrong—forgive me.”

Then before Merral could say any more, he had gone.

34

O
n Friday morning, Merral introduced Betafor to the team in the Circle and sensed both curiosity and caution in the glances and greetings. Merral was intrigued that, over the next hour or so, it was DC who most seemed to take to the newcomer as she was installed near the center of the bunker and linked with feeds from a number of sensors.

Merral watched her out of the corner of his eye from the other side of the Circle.
She displays the Lamb and Stars on her tunic, but supposing she betrays us?
He considered that for some time.
Amethyst is the most vital thing, and here only Anya, Lloyd, and I know of the plan. It's a risk we must take
.

Later in the morning, Merral squatted down next to the Allenix. “So, Betafor, what is your prediction?”

“Commander, you know as well as I do, the Dominion . . . will attack here. As soon as they can. The chief issue is how many ships they can land.”

“I presume Assembly forces will attack them as they begin atmosphere entry.”

“That is the vulnerable point. But you will almost certainly be outnumbered. There will be attempts at multiple landings.”

“So you wish you were not here?”

“Commander, if you were me, would you wish to have your existence threatened by a war that did not involve you?”

“No. But are you really saying you don't care whether good or evil wins?”

“I will do my duty. But I remind you that the language of ‘good' and ‘evil' that you use is foreign to me. I am outside your values.”

And that is exactly why we don't trust you.

By midday the rain was becoming more fitful. Merral was grateful for the signs of its easing; some facilities were flooded, and there was an urgent need to spray mirror ice on some walls.

Amid more meetings and more simulations he talked on a grainy link to Ethan. The fact that the Gates were closed and the Blade was now visible had heightened the sense of crisis across the world.

“There's no panic,” Ethan said. “Everyone is being very disciplined.” But the look on his face expressed his concern.

For how long can panic be averted?

Early in the afternoon, Merral found time to talk with Anya, summoning her from a tightly packed room of people to a small side office with a large window that overlooked the Circle.

“How are you?” she said, closing the door behind her, and he felt the concern in the words.

“Managing. DC is working me hard.”

“They rate her very highly.”

“Rightly. Lloyd is in awe of her. Or in love.”

She smiled.

“And how are you?”

“Surviving.” The look in her eyes told him she felt trapped.
She doesn't want to be here; she doesn't want not to be here
.

“I wish I had Luke to help me,” Merral said, and as he did, the pain of that loss stung him afresh.

“You'll manage.”

“Are you making any progress?”

“We're running endless simulations,” she said. “But there are so many uncertainties. How many will attack us? Will the blades work? Will we face new and more terrible weapons?”

“And on any simulation so far, do we win?”

Her hesitation told him all he needed to know. “Well . . . it's early.”

Merral called up a map on the wallscreen. “Let me tell you what I have done. I've talked with the artillery people. We are moving the cannon to be able to hit more landing zones at once. The best guess is that there will be multiple attacks. Four, maybe five landing sites simultaneously.”

She nodded assent.

“As for the reserves,” he continued, “they've been moved well clear of the main base. I'm having them separated into two groups and sited farther away. Here—” he pointed to a valley in rugged ground some twenty kilometers to the east—“and here.” His hand touched a cluster of peaks to the west.

“Makes sense. What else?”

“There was too much reliance on radio transmissions; most positions are now linked by fiber-opt cable.” He shrugged. “And there will be other things. As events unfold.”

He lowered his voice. “But I don't think we can win. I think the best we can hope for is to hold on. And hope that Laura delivers something special.”

She gave a tiny nod of agreement.

“So,” he asked, “how do you feel I'm doing?”

Anya leaned back in her chair and gave him an evaluative look. “You, Forester, have changed.”

“For better or worse?”

The smile revealed pain. “Could certainly be worse. No, you're doing well. They all trust you. You are confident—or more than they are. I can believe you are the man for the hour.”

“And will the damage be permanent?”

“In what sense?”

He shrugged. “I want to put the clock back. I want to be a forester again. I don't want to be saluted. Or called
sir
ever again.”

She looked at the floor. “I don't know that we can ever go back. Not now. None of us. We have set sail from our own land, and we cannot return there. All we can hope is that the Most High allows us to cross beyond the current rough seas and find a new land.”

“Poetic.”

“Poetic, no. Reflective, yes.”

“And true.” They stared at each other.
And on this new land will she and I be together?
He wondered suddenly if he dared ask her.

Then it came to him with a sudden certainty that not only was it not right to ask her, but it was futile.
She cannot answer. She has issues she must face, battles that she alone must come through.

He heard a knock on the door. Merral sensed new and urgent business awaited him.

“There may not be much chance to talk over the next few days,” he said. “I just want you to know that I . . . am concerned for you.”

She nodded. “Likewise.”

In the late afternoon, Merral walked round the fortifications again. There were more soldiers than ever before, and more keen-faced men and women with backpacks and weapons were still arriving. Amid intermittent gusts of rain, he talked to the engineers who were struggling with pipe, wires, and trenches under water. Ankle-deep in mud, he consulted with specialists and soldiers about weapon ranges and cover and protective fire. In general, he was pleased with what had been accomplished but also daunted by what still remained to be done.

Finally, Merral walked over the frail bridge to the Gate control center to see how the system was working. Behind the new massive blast doors he found the duty technician staring at a screen with a single waveform crossing it.

“The Gates remain locked down, sir,” he said, and Merral moved on to look at the rest of the center. There were duplicates of a few of the command and control facilities of the main bunker, but everything was on a much more compact scale, with space for perhaps a dozen people, twenty at most.
As a desperate, final resort this may work for a few days . . . but no more.

Merral returned to the main bunker and more meetings. That night the clouds broke briefly and he was summoned up onto the crest of the mountain in the cold, moist night air to see, high in the blackness, a fiery red smudge against the stars.

“An abomination,” the soldier next to him muttered.

“Yes,” Merral replied. “Just so. An abomination.”