Infinite Day (23 page)

When not working with the captain or the engineer, the sarudar would walk silently around the ship. He would attend the morning and evening services but always sat at the back; he never sang and no amens came from him. Luke spent some time with him but refused to reveal what transpired in those meetings other than to say it was “a sad and difficult case.”

Once, Merral tried to discuss the future with Azeras. “Sarudar, assuming we can get the hostages and head back safely, then we will need to talk about your future.”

So slight was the nod that Azeras gave that Merral wondered for a moment if he ought to repeat his comment. “If you wish,” he added eventually, “we might be able to dispense with your services. You could then go or stay.”

Azeras sighed. “Where?” he said slowly. “I can make no decision yet.”

Then suddenly the stony exterior seemed to crack. “Commander, I fear for what I will find when we reach Sarata. In my heart, I believe my people are now finished. The True Freeborn are no more.” He gave Merral a mournful look. “A whole civilization crushed completely by the Dominion.”

“Can you be sure?”

Azeras shook his head. “No. Not yet. I have not quite given up hope. Some communities may have survived. People may have fled in ships. It would be nice to think so.”

Then with shoulders stooped, he walked away. Merral found himself wondering how Azeras would react if they were indeed to find that all his people had been destroyed.

Slee's black-and-white cartoons of the inhabitants of the
Star
soon grew beyond their original single wall. One day Merral caught Betafor gazing at a drawing showing her at the helm of a spacecraft with her long fingers waving over the controls.

“Do you understand what Slee is doing?” he asked.

“I think so. But I am puzzled about why there are so many distortions and inaccuracies.”

Seized with a sudden desire to tease her, Merral said, “Betafor, those are to make them more truthful.”

“That makes no sense.”

No, it doesn't.
“Let me try to explain. . . . It's because . . . well, in order to highlight really important things sometimes artists need to hide other things.”

“I see. The human understanding of events is so irrational that you need inaccuracy to correct it?”

“Sort of.”

The creature stared at him for some moments. “If errors are more truthful than the truth for you, then the supremacy of the Allenix would seem inarguable.”

The color dreams continued. One night Merral dreamed of a green marshland with water lilies, surrounded by trees and kingfishers of dazzling blue diving in and out of the water. Another night, he was in a walled garden in May, with clematis covering the brickwork walls and pergolas with mounds of flowers on which butterflies of dazzling colors fluttered.

As they traveled on, the purpose of the mission stayed central. Despite the distractions and concerns, the training for the rescue persisted. Abilana insisted on—and got—a daily training slot on battlefield medical techniques. Watching the imagery of injuries was the only time Merral was grateful for the lack of color.

They trained extensively with the weapons, and rooms full of targets were created where the soldiers could practice and drill. Given that the
Star
and the
Comet
were sister ships, there were many simulated assaults; the soldiers trained themselves to know their way round rooms and corridors even in darkness. And slowly the men and women acquired competence and an ability to work together.

Yet Merral, watching them carefully, did not find his mind put at ease.
These men and women seem to be excellent. But these are exercises; how will they perform facing the real thing?

8

O
n the
Nanmaxat's Comet
, Isabella had decided that she must keep a log of the voyage. She had made the decision shortly after Commander Lezaroth selected her as contact officer. It was partly to stop her from losing track of time and partly to keep note of the requests she was already being given; but she also saw it as a chance to make an account of events. The role she had to play was potentially so significant that she wanted it recorded. She hoped that she would be a success; it was plain that her appointment was not universally approved.

“No disrespect, Isabella, but perhaps . . . just perhaps,” Lola Munez murmured, “we ought to have decided ourselves whom we wanted.”

Isabella noted that comment in her diary. She also recorded how within eight hours of her appointment, colors were beginning to fade away and how, four hours later, all sense of color had gone so that all that remained was a spectrum ranging from white to black. Soon Isabella was noting that she felt a deadening, darkening of her spirit. There though, she was not alone. Soon, as the central focus of all the other delegates, she received reports that others felt something similar. Some mentioned that it was like a cloud coming in front of the sun, others like a chill on the mind. One of the more spiritual men said it was as if he had become separated from God.

Isabella did her best to resist dwelling on her emotions.
I have things to do; I cannot be distracted.
Between dealing with the growing number of complaints and requests, she tried to consider how to deal with Lezaroth.
I must be wary about giving in to his authority. I must constantly remind myself that he too is vulnerable. He probably needs me as much as I need him. I must extract the best possible deal from him.

Twenty-four hours after her appointment, she was curtly summoned to Lezaroth. She picked up a written list she had made and, aware of twenty-nine pairs of eyes watching her, followed the guard.

Outside, she tried to adjust her hair as she walked along.

“Have we been introduced?” she asked the guard, hoping that it might open up a conversation, but he remained silent. She was led down a long corridor, passing a cross junction where she saw six motionless, gray, doglike forms lined up on either side.

She shivered. “Krallen?”

“Yes.”

She was shown into the room, well lit as far as the ship went but sparsely furnished with just a table and two chairs. There was, however, carpet. She decided she was reconciled to everything being in gray.

Lezaroth, in uniform, was standing at the far end of the room, facing away and apparently scrutinizing a wallscreen. He seemed an erect, tall, and isolated figure.

As the door closed, he turned and stared at her.

“Isabella. How are you today?” She detected an awkwardness in his tone.

“As well as can be expected,” she said.

“I understand.” He gestured her to a chair. “It must be very difficult for you. Please be seated.”

She sat down, but he remained standing.
A physical expression of his superiority over me; well, intimidation won't work
.

“Isabella, can I get you anything? a drink perhaps?”

She was tempted to ask him to turn the ship around but refrained. Humor of any sort was best avoided. “Nothing, thank you.”

Abruptly he walked over and sat down facing her. She glimpsed pain in the severe face.

“I want you to know . . .” There was a pause. “No, let me begin again. At the start I wish you to know that there is much about this that I am not happy with. Not at all.”

His voice was accented, and in the way he spoke Communal she heard a clear lack of practice; yet his voice retained a ring of command.
Remember, this is a man with problems. If I can find out where those lie, I may put myself in a better position to negotiate with him.

She said nothing.

Lezaroth leaned forward. “However, I have a job to do. I am loyal to my superior but I wanted you to know that. At the start.”

“Thank you.”

“Now, how are your people?”

The expression “
your
people” somehow pleased her.

“Surviving. No one likes this gloom. The loss of color is unnerving.”

“Yes, I remember my first time.” The tone was softer. “I was forcibly recruited into the military as a teenager. I had little preparation; no one had told me this would happen. I thought I was going blind.” He sighed and gave a resigned shake of his head. “
War.
But let me promise you, you'll get used to it. It does have one positive point: you will never, ever take color for granted again. And there will be two short breaks where we surface for calibration.” He gave her a tense, awkward smile. “Now, how can we make life more bearable for you all?”

Isabella put her diary on the table. “I have a list of . . . requests.” She had considered using the word
demands
but felt that this might not be the best way to start.

“We need to be told what we are eating. We want warm water. We want to be able to share books and programs we have on our diaries. We want more room for exercise. We have some requests for medical assistance: a case of heart palpitations, a lot of stress. We want more information. We want—”

A hand was raised. “One by one, Isabella.”

As she repeated them, he listened and said simply, “Approved,” “Denied,” or “I will consider it.” She was pleased, though, that few requests were denied outright.

On the question of “more information,” he hesitated and rubbed his chin. “Let me tell you something. In private. You were not chosen by accident.”

“I see.”

“It was a slight deceit of mine.” He stared at her. “I read the ambassadors' dossiers on all the team. Alas; they are a sad loss.” He stopped as if overcome by emotion. “They were impressed by your ability. Your quick-wittedness. And—I need to translate this carefully—your flexibility.”

“Flexibility?” she said, feeling warmed at the praise.

“
Adaptability
? That may be better—the ability to come to terms with a new situation.”

“I see.”

“Yes. Yours is a difficult task. If you succeed, who knows?”

“We do need to know more about what happened.”

Lezaroth put his face between his hands as if in the deepest thought. “Isabella, I would tell you more, but I must know that you can keep secrets.”

“For whose sake?”

“
Mine
. My career.” There was an urgency in his voice. “You have no idea what would happen to me. Dominion military discipline is . . . ferocious.”

“I can keep secrets.”

She was conscious of his eyes staring at her with an enormous intensity.

“No!” The word was unexpected. “Not today. I must consider matters.”

She suddenly realized that the meeting was over.