Infinite Day (44 page)

Klime, the master-at-arms
. Merral saw dazed eyes turning toward the man.
This is the test! They outnumber us, and if they rush us, they may overpower us
.

The man with the tuft pulled a black gun from within his jacket and raised it high in a gesture. “Attack!” he cried. He began to run forward.

He had gone two paces when there were at least two loud, angry cracks. The man jerked back as if tugged by wires and a wet redness appeared on his forehead and chest. The gun fell from his hands and hit the ground with a clang.

Merral, aware of the smoke drifting from the sniper's rifle next to him, urgently trailed his gun barrel over the other men, watching for any hint that they were about to follow the suggestion of the master-at-arms. He saw looks and murmurs exchanged and received sullen, hate-filled glances but was relieved to see that no one made any move to attack.

That danger has passed.

“Keep hands on heads!” he shouted again. “We do not wish to hurt you.”

He glanced around to the door. Four men, hands tied behind their backs, were already seated against the wall there. Three more were being searched and cuffed.

We are in control.
Merral tried to hold back the feeling of relief.
But I killed a man
. Recognizing the temptation to wallow in recrimination, he postponed any further analysis.
I need to make decisions. Where is everybody?
He was looking around when, on the periphery of his vision, he saw something moving.

As he turned, a figure flung itself at him.

Merral had a brief but terrible montage of impressions: a face riven by deep scars; a nose carved away; weird, clawed hands holding long, needled daggers; a mouth open in a screaming yell of hatred.

As Merral ducked, a deafening blast erupted from beside him.

The figure buckled and slithered bloodily to the ground. As it did, Merral saw that where the man's ears had been was just scar tissue.

His stomach churning, Merral turned to see Lloyd. The big man shook his head mournfully. “I'm going to get a reputation.”

“The priest. That's who he is.”

“
Was.
Past tense.” Lloyd stuck a foot out and rolled the man over. “Grotesque.”

Merral looked, seeing with a new pang of horror that the man had only two fingers and a thumb on each hand. Hanging from a cord around his neck were the remaining four fingers.

Trying to suppress his feelings of nausea, Merral surveyed the scene. The three deaths seemed to have subdued the men of the
Sacrifice
, and although many of the prisoners glowered, there was no mood for resistance.

A quarter of an hour later, all the surviving crew of the
Sacrifice
had been tied up and were seated in a long, hostile line against the wall of the large, empty compartment Merral had seen earlier. Slabodal had been brought up to join them.

“Take charge,” Merral ordered Helena. “I'm going up to the bridge. Find who the medical orderly is and get him to find body bags for those three and Captain Haqzintal. I want them treated with dignity.”

16

T
he bridge of the
Sacrifice
was so sprawling and so filled with equipment that for a terrible second or two, Merral was seized by anxiety that it was too complex and that they would never master this ship. Then he saw Azeras and Laura calmly looking at instruments on what was clearly the command console and, to their side, Vero scanning screens of information, and he was reassured.

Merral looked around. At either side of the room, Ilyas and Slee stood cradling weapons. In the center of the floor two Allenix units were facing each other. One was leaning down on folded forelimbs while the other was standing upright on all fours. Both had the Lamb and Stars on their tunics, and for a moment Merral couldn't tell which was Betafor. Finally, he noticed that the one that wasn't kneeling had more faded and chipped paintwork and decided it was Betafor.

“Who is this, Betafor?” he asked.

“This is Kappaten. She has agreed that we are now in control of the ship and is now serving the Assembly. I am absorbing her data.”

“I see.”
That will probably keep Betafor busy
. “Does she speak Communal?”

“Only the older form. I will update her language banks when I have finished extracting the information from her. But there's no need to speak to her. I have her information. She is now the subordinate Allenix.”

“
Aah
.” Merral glanced at Lloyd, who just shook his head. “At some point, we would like to talk to her. But, Betafor, is the ship secure? Are all the crew accounted for? Can we be sure there are no roving Krallen packs?”

“Commander, my data sources tell me that in addition to the captain there are . . . three dead crew and twenty-six under custody. There are no . . . roving Krallen packs.”

“Very well. Now, a question. What do you suggest I do with the men we have captured? I can't keep them in prison.”

“The obvious solution is to kill them.”

“I do not wish to do that.”

“I have to point out you have killed four people already.”

“Yes,” Merral heard himself sigh. “An unfortunate necessity. Look, are there lifeboats I can put them in?”

“Yes.”

“Can we cripple the communications and send them to . . . I don't know . . . Khalamaja on slow routing? Several weeks at least?”

“That can be done.”

“Very well. Continue on the planned course. We must do nothing that draws attention to us. If we get any messages from the Dominion, ignore them. Let them assume the communication systems are malfunctioning.”

“As you wish.”

Merral walked over to the command console. Azeras had moved away to another smaller display, leaving Laura scrolling down a large screen.

Laura looked up. “Well done, Commander.”

“Hardly. We killed four of them, and I wish we hadn't.” He bent down next to her so he wouldn't have to shout. “Do you reckon you can fly this?”

Laura looked at him and then smiled. “I reckon I can. From A to B at least. It's not very different from the
Star
. Don't expect any fancy maneuvers, though. Not yet.”

Merral gestured around. “If it's so easy, what's all this for?”

Laura's face creased in amusement. “You asked me about
flying
it. All
this
is for defense and attack. That will require a lot of training for others.”

“Okay. But you have no problems with us transferring to this from the
Star
?”

“No. It's a risk. But we have to take it. This ship has so much that it will be invaluable to the Assembly. And it's built for defense. On this we can survive what would destroy the
Star
.”

“So you are happy?”

There was a new smile. “Commander, I'm sitting at the control desk of a new and stolen warship. Flying doesn't get better.”

Merral saw Vero hunched over a display and sat down next to his friend.

Vero gave him the briefest of glances. “I think I've done it.” The words were just above a whisper. “I'm copying all files. I think it should be s-secure.” For a fraction of a second the eyes flicked over to Betafor.

“But, my friend, there's so much. And it's all new.” The words bubbled out. “I'm just skimming folders as they are copied. We have details of the fleet, strategic plans, schematics for ships, engineering . . . you name it. Things on the lord-emperor himself. I can't understand it all. I will have it translated.” Then he seemed to recollect something. “Well done down there. I watched it all. A fine performance.”

Merral shook his head. “I killed—,” he began.

But Vero's attention had already returned to the screen. “So much data! I wish I could read two lots at once like Betafor. Everyone—
everything
—has its weaknesses; I'm going to try to find the Dominion's.”

“Well, be careful. Look, Vero, I'm about to order that we take this ship as our main vessel, get everybody over quickly, and keep the
Star
as the backup ship. I'm going to send all the captured crew off in a lifeboat on a slow voyage to Khalamaja. Three weeks, to give us plenty of time to be gone.”

“Excellent,” Vero said in a distracted tone and gestured at the screen. “And Krallen specifications too! Let's see . . .”

Merral shook his head and approached Azeras. The man looked up at his arrival, and Merral glimpsed a look of pained, grieving resignation.

“Commander,” Azeras said. “Can I talk to you? Privately?”

Merral walked with the sarudar to the far end of the bridge. There Azeras leaned against a wall and slumped down, his face a portrait of dejection. “I have just been checking their records. There have been no contacts with the True Freeborn since we stole the
Star
. That was the last recorded action. The war against the True Freeborn has been over for nearly a year. My people . . . are no more.”

“You have my utter sympathies,” Merral said, feeling that it was a pathetically inadequate statement.
What must it be like to lose your entire culture?

“I feared this,” Azeras said with a heavy bitterness. “But I had to know . . . that we were all destroyed. Our worlds burned or looted.” He looked away as if trying to hide his grief, then shook himself and turned back to Merral.

“What will you do now?” Merral asked.

“I have made no decision about my future.”

“The offer to join us still stands.”

“Thank you, Commander. Were I younger, less war-scarred . . . then perhaps I might change. But the combination of war and years has stiffened me.” Then a weary, joyless smile flitted across his face. “But I am failing in my duty, Commander. Congratulations on your seizure. And without loss! The Assembly learns old skills fast.”

“Sadly.”

“What are your plans now?”

“I intend to make this ship our main vessel and use the
Star
as a backup. Send the captured crew off on a slow lifeboat to Khalamaja with the signaling systems out of order.”

Merral saw Azeras leaning closer. He whispered, “But the mission stays . . . as planned? To wait for Lezaroth?”

“I see no reason to change plans. Do you?”

The answer was a low grunt. “It occurs to me that having this ship changes everything.”

“How?”

“This—all this—is a tremendous prize. It has the latest technology of weapons and countermeasures and a vast amount of vital data, including battle plans. I would be tempted to make a hard decision and take it and run now.”

“What! And leave our people?”

“Commander, push your Assembly values—and your emotions—to one side for a moment. Consider the greater good. This fleet is ready to leave; time is not on your—on
our
—side. Leave with this ship now, and you may outrun Nezhuala's ships and get to the Assembly before them. Who knows but that this may prove, like the capture of the Krallen at Farholme, to be the key to a weapon that may yield victory?”

Merral said nothing, and eventually Azeras continued. “You have done all you can for the hostages. But think of the greater good. A speedy return may save many lives.”

“But the hostages?”

“A hard matter.” His lips tightened. “They may be already dead. But if they live, let us ask, what would they themselves say?” There was a pause. “I suspect they would say, ‘Let us perish that the many might live.'”

Merral walked a few paces away, his mind struggling to think through what he had heard.
The logic is appealing. Despite the success of the attack on the
Sacrifice
, I have little enthusiasm for another assault; this has been too close a matter. And every day we stay here, the risk of being discovered and attacked grows.
Merral wondered if he should talk to Luke or Vero, but it came to him that this was a decision he had to make.

He walked back to Azeras. “No, I will not change my mind. Not for the moment.”

“As you wish.” Then there was a twist of the lip. “But as you admitted with that drone and Nithloss, you are a man who loves the symbolic gesture. Commander, be careful that others do not pay the price for your gestures.”

“I will try.”

Azeras rose to his feet and then made a dismissive grunt. “I'm sorry, Commander. I'm a weary and bitter man. I obey your ruling. I'll make myself useful.”