Infinite Day (37 page)

How worrying that he means the Counter-Current, not the Dominion.

Eliza was abruptly aware that Ethan was looking at her. She was seized by the realization that what was going on was wrong. But again she heard the voice she had taken to be that of the Spirit saying, “
Child, hold back. There are things that must be fulfilled.
”

In her mind a question surfaced:
Do I not do evil by letting wrong happen?
The reply came in an instant. “
That is my business. I command you, let this pass.
”

“Eliza?” Ethan's voice broke into her thoughts. “I was wondering if you had any final comment.”

“No. I am just . . . bemused by events. No final comment.”

“Very well.” Ethan seemed to have acquired a new confidence. “My suggestions are as follows. Clemant is to become an advisor to the military. I want him to attend as many Defense Force meetings as he thinks are relevant.”

Andreas gave a sharp shake of the head. “No. He'd be more useful in the Department of Assembly Security. K needs help.”

Ethan hesitated for a brief moment. “Yes. I see the logic there. But the Defense Force can use his knowledge.”

“Well then, put him on both: DAS and ADF,” Andreas replied. “He has invaluable experience.”

Ethan looked at Eliza, but she just shrugged. “Very well; both then. Now, Delastro. Here I am minded simply to turn the man loose. Give him the resources he needs.”

Andreas gave a clap of his hands and began to rise from his seat. “Excellent. Play the prophet!”

Ethan pulled his papers together. “Meeting over.”

How strange,
Eliza thought
. It all fits together. Ethan wants them because he is weak. Andreas wants them because he sees them as filling the needs he perceives.

And I feel constrained to say nothing.

Ten weary days after the envoy's visit, it was time for the
Star
to surface. After consulting with Betafor, Azeras came to Merral. “We are agreed. This is where we can surface, but we will not break out of Below-Space. Not yet. We need to look around first.”

They rose up slowly, and the entire ship's company celebrated as colors returned. People cheered and prayed and sang, looking at their hands and their clothes. Anya ran her fingers through a lock of her hair and marveled that she saw no gray in it. And as the color returned, Merral felt that something of the depression that had hung over all of them seemed to lift. Yet he couldn't help forgetting that they now lay all too close to the heart of the Dominion.

As they ascended, Merral put the ship on high alert. The seizure teams were placed on standby, ready to go into action at a moment's notice. Merral had the uniform of a Dominion captain hung in his office by the bridge and, hung just out of sight of the camera, a reminder of some key Saratan phrases in case his mind went blank. The active panels on the
Star
were changed and it acquired the emblems of a medical vessel.

Soon it was time to pause the
Star,
and the shutters over the ports were finally raised to reveal a gray, milky emptiness. Then, under Azeras's careful eye, a surveillance probe was released from the nose. As they watched, it raced upward out of sight, trailing an almost invisible cable. Half an hour later, it was in place, and images from its eight cameras began pouring in. With Vero and Azeras beside him, Merral stared at the images of worlds, space constructions, and satellites, trying to grapple with what it all signified. As he did this, Betafor, watched carefully by Lloyd, scanned the wavelengths and listened to signals. Once, Merral looked up from the screen and caught Lloyd's gaze. His aide gave him a slight shake of the head that conveyed utter frustration. Merral nodded.
For all we know, she is broadcasting our locality to Nezhuala, but there is little we can do about it; we must trust her.

After an hour or so, Merral had seen enough. He consulted with Betafor about what she had learned, then called a meeting of everyone in the gathering hall.

There he gazed at his scribbled notes.
How do I sum things up?
Then he looked around at the assembled faces. “Well, welcome to the Sarata system. We are in the right place. Within a hundred thousand kilometers. That's good news. And the other bit of good news is that we can see no trace of the
Nanmaxat's Comet
. But there are a lot of ships.” He broke off, struggling with what he had seen. “So many ships! But there are very few star series freighters. And none of those looks right. Of course, she could be on the other side of the system, or in dock. But we think we beat her here.”

He saw nods of satisfaction.

“How long we have to wait, we don't know; it could be hours or several days. There is also nothing near us. And that's good news. Oh, and I suppose we could add that the Gerazon-Far station looks very quiet; it may even be deserted.”
We all know what that suggests: the war with the True Freeborn is long over.
Merral saw Luke glance at Azeras, but the stony face remained impassive.

“But that's it for good news. There are a lot of other things. Let's have the screen on. If we look toward the planet called Khalamaja we see this.”

The screen showed an image of a starry sky, but cutting vertically down the middle was a long, thin line, as if the screen had been scored.

“The Blade of Night.”

“Size?” asked someone.

“Five hundred kilometers.”

He heard sharp intakes of breath.

“Scary.”

Merral zoomed in so that the line became solid, and they could see details such as towers, engines, and even a few service craft.

“That's an impossible scale.”

“Almost impossible.” It was the engineer. “But it's a dynamic structure, kept constantly steady by a hundred adjuster jets. Further stabilized by cables and struts. You just have busy computers.”

“Okay,” Merral said, “now watch this.” He shifted the image until they saw the top of the structure. There were a series of protrusions, and above these the structure was capped with a smooth, red-hued dome. Just below where the dome began were two access tubes, and at the end of one was a diminutive ship.

“That vessel,” said Azeras, “is the size of the
Star
.”

There was the sound of low whistles and expressions of amazement.

“This guy trying to prove something?” It was Abilana.

“I want you to see the base.” Merral moved the image again. As the structure slid upward on the screen, it became fainter as if fading out, and then electric blue lines became visible around the ghostly surface. Finally both structure and lines vanished.

“What's going on?” someone asked.

“It's entered Below-Space.” It was Laura speaking now. “It's a permanent access point into Below-Space. If I remember my physics, it's the sort of thing that's considered a theoretical novelty. Like drilling from one side of a planet to the other. Or it was.”

“The Blade is completed.” Azeras's voice was a low hiss, and everyone turned to him. “It is now ready for whatever dreadful purpose it is meant for.” He circled his fingers again in the strange warding-off-evil action, and Merral felt touched by the man's nagging fear.

Azeras shook his head. “Even before its completion, he was able to summon baziliarchs to his aid. What can he not do now? To be honest, I do not want to be here.”

“Neither does any of us, Sarudar, but we have work to do here,” Merral replied.

Anxious lest Azeras's fear be contagious, Merral moved on to new images. The first was a score of pale, thin, gray slabs, like shavings of metal. “There's also a lot of these—large destroyers, says the sarudar—and even more of these.” The new image was of still more massive vessels. “Anybody recognize this?”

“Looks like the
Triumph of Sarata
.”

“The same or similar class.”

“Battle groups in clusters,” Azeras added, his voice grave.

“We see hundreds of such ships. Some are still being completed. But many look ready to launch. There are fueling and supply vessels among them.”

The silence that followed was somber.

Then a soldier spoke. “Can we do anything about that?”

“Take out a fleet with a freighter? A nice idea, but our current mission is demanding enough. Still, I daresay this data will help the Assembly. If we can get it back in time.”
If we can get back.

After some further discussion, Merral gave a warning that because the
Comet
could appear at any moment, readiness had to be maintained; then he closed the meeting.

Later, Merral was in his office gazing at images from some of the Dominion worlds when Azeras walked in. Merral sensed that, beyond the dispirited aimlessness that so frequently haunted this man, a new and deeper despair loomed.

“Any news?” Merral asked, keeping the question vague.

“Nothing.” Azeras sat down heavily in a chair. “But I feel sure the war—my war—is long over. If I understand what I see and what Betafor claims to hear, there are no preparations being made to deal with any nearby threat, such as the True Freeborn. I feel the lord-emperor's attention is now turned toward the Assembly. This is a long-range fleet that is being prepared.”

“I'm sorry.” Merral, feeling inadequate, felt it best to say nothing more, and for the best part of a minute, Azeras stared at the floor. Then he seemed to shake himself free of his despair and looked up at the wallscreen, on which was an image of a hazy, brown planet with patches of gray and red.

“Khalamaja,” Azeras said, his tone suggesting he was recalling something distant. “Once, long ago, we thought we had a chance, and we penetrated this system. I saw all these worlds. But we were driven back. Nezhuala was far more powerful than we imagined. And within two standard years, their ships were penetrating our systems. But that . . . that was the past. . . .”

“And the Blade?”

At the name, the face clouded and the right hand made the circling motion. “Yes. It was nowhere near finished then.”

“You have looked on it now. What do you think?”

Azeras closed his eyes. “Commander, I am no coward. I have fought in many battles that I was sure would be my last. But that structure scares me. I fear it for the pit of hell that it is. There is a power there that makes me want to flee.” Then with an evident attempt to wrest himself free of his dark memories, he looked at Merral. “Enough! But you tell me, what do
you
think of these worlds?”

“I have looked at them all and they fill me with sadness. I'm no expert on the making of worlds, but I think they could have been made habitable. They are hostile places; I see a lot of bleak deserts, bare rock, and seas that appear too salty for life. I see no forests.”

“Or oceans.”

“No.” Merral enlarged the image to show a series of tiny gray rectangles overlain by a smear of brown. “And where I see towns, I see this. Pollution.”

Azeras nodded. “Your worlds are vastly superior.”

“Is that why they want to invade? To get better worlds?”

Azeras gave a hard smile. “That? That's a minor consideration. No. They want to invade because they hate you. They want to destroy you. Your worlds are incidental.”

“I see.”

Merral pressed another button and a new image appeared. It was sharper than the previous one and showed an ochre and rust brown world, half in shadow. In addition to an array of craters, it was pockmarked by long gouges and strange, sharp-edged indentations.

“This world fascinates me—Nithloss. We are very close to it.”

“Yes. Those big holes are where the planet was mined. Much of the mass of the Blade comes from here.”

Merral felt a horror-struck wonder at the vandalism that would allow someone to gash and scour an entire world. “‘The scarred world.' That's what you called it, and I see why.”