Dark Foundations (101 page)

W
ithin a few hours of being flown to Camp Kunagat, Merral decided that, under ordinary circumstances—and when had they last prevailed?—he could have indeed enjoyed the place.

Camp Kunagat lay in the foothills of the Kenadreno Range, four hundred kilometers to the north of Isterrane, amid lakes, rocks, and green forests that seemed to go on forever. Merral was allocated a small whitewashed wooden hut with a jetty out into the clear waters of a lake. He was well fed and the police kept their distance.

Over the next few days Merral slept, walked among the trees, and swam. Above all, he thought and prayed. And as he prayed, it came to him that he badly needed this time to recover. Clemant's actions were, no doubt unintentionally, a great blessing. As each day passed, Merral felt increasingly certain that a storm was gathering for which he would need all his energies and faculties.

But he was told nothing of what was going on in the outside world and he tried to stop himself worrying about what was happening there. He decided that his heavenly Father had placed him outside events for the time being, in order to recover and prepare; worry played no part in either process. Nevertheless, as the days passed he was heartened that neither Vero, Lloyd, nor Frankie joined him.

The days passed.

On the evening of the fifth day, Merral was sitting on the wooden platform that fringed the hut eating his evening meal, when the silence of the woods was broken by the squeal of a fast scout vessel landing at the nearby strip.

A few minutes later, Merral overheard the noise of a shouted argument through the trees and shortly afterward, he saw two soldiers wearing the green armor jackets of the regular forces walking up to the hut with XQ rifles at the ready. Behind them, with a determined step, strode a small woman with dark hair wearing a cream jacket and skirt.

My holiday is over. The storm is about to break
.

As if they were some sort of regimental guard, the soldiers positioned themselves on either side of the porch steps, while the woman walked briskly up the steps.

“Commander D'Avanos,” she said with a bow. Merral noticed a tanned face, a deeply furrowed brow, and a preoccupied look. He decided she looked to be in her sixties.

“Last I heard, I was a forester,” Merral said, rising from his chair and extending a hand. “I think we have met somewhere; your face is familiar.”

“Ludovica Bortellat,” the woman said as she shook hands. “I was secretary of the Council of Representatives.”

“Ah. I remember.”

“May I?” the visitor asked, pulling a spare chair over.

“Please,” Merral replied and sat down himself.

They stared at each other. Merral sensed that his visitor bore responsibilities that she perhaps thought were too big for her.

“May I call you Ludovica?” he asked.

“By all means. First, an apology. There have been some astonishing meetings this week.” She frowned as she poured a glass of water. “There was one meeting today.” She stared at the water and then sipped it slowly. “There has been a restructuring; the Council of Representatives is no more. Farholme is now governed by a committee of a dozen men and women—I chair it. In the heat of the crisis too much power was allowed into the hands of one person. It was a mistake. . . .”

As she gazed around, evidently appreciating the lake and the trees, Merral found himself warming to the woman.

“I agree. Would you like some food? There is always too much here for one.”

“No, thank you. Another time perhaps. Urgent decisions must be made. Anyway, I was sent by the new committee to talk to you.” Ludovica reached inside her jacket and took out an envelope. “You'd better see my letter of authorization. Trust is no longer enough.”

Merral took the letter, glanced at its contents, and handed it back carefully.

“I have to tell you,” the visitor said, with slow deliberation, “that the powers of the police have been reduced. You are free to go. Furthermore, some decisions of former advisor Clemant are being revoked. You are restored to the rank of Commander in Chief of the Farholme Defense Force with full powers as of this moment, and with apologies. Is that acceptable?”

“Is a parallel restoration being offered to Colonel Thuron?”

“Yes.”

“And all charges against those who fought with me are dropped?”

“Yes.”

“Then it is acceptable.”

Ludovica nodded and pulled out a diary from her jacket pocket. Merral recognized it as his own. “We thought you'd like this.”

“Thank you,” Merral said as he took it. “But what does Clemant say?”

Ludovica's bronzed face darkened. “Ah. He is not available for comment.” She paused to look around once more before turning back to Merral. “You haven't heard any news.”

“No.”
Now comes the first lash of the storm
,
so help me, God.

“We have had some bad news. Clemant has taken the
Dove
and left the system, heading for Earth.”

“But he can't!” Merral interrupted angrily. “It's monstrous! People died for that ship. He just went without consulting anybody?” Merral suddenly realized that he wasn't just angry; he was also anxious.

It came to him that had he stayed in Isterrane as he had been commanded and not gone to Ynysmant, this would not have happened. This was surely what the envoy had meant by “the results of your actions remain.”

“It was done before we knew anything about it. And we think Colonel Larraine has gone with him.”

“Zak?
That
figures.”
Yes. Had I been at Isterrane that would not have happened either.
“But why take the ship?”

“He left a message for us. A copy is on your diary. Please listen to it.”

As Ludovica got up and walked down the jetty, Merral found the file.

Clemant, dark suited and pale faced, appeared on the screen. “Madam Secretary,” he said in his quiet, careful way. “I gather the council is trying to reassert its authority and that you wish to interview me. I am afraid I will have to deny you that pleasure. Before I lose my authority, I have decided to order the
Dove
to proceed to Bannermene and from there to Ancient Earth. I do not feel the need to justify my decision, but I feel I owe you a partial explanation.”

Clemant paused and his eyes seemed to gaze into an infinite distance. “The fact is that I believe that the Most High has committed to me a great task, one that I must fulfill. Let me explain. In the course of investigating this ship, I have become aware of just how terrible and imminent the threat to the Assembly is. This Lord-Emperor Nezhuala is a man whose ambition and hatred know no limits. He is utterly evil, a man whose energy and goals must come from the great enemy of the Assembly himself. We have recovered images from the files that show that he is preparing a vast fleet, at least a thousand ships strong and each vessel the size of the
Triumph of Sarata
.

“All the evidence we have is that the Dominion will unleash these forces soon. The Assembly must be warned with the utmost speed so that defenses and weapons may be prepared. I cannot wait for votes or decisions.” He paused. “There is another reason for me going. But it is a reason of which I can say nothing. It is just that if there is to be any sort of successful defense against this greatest of evils, then information we have must be given to the Assembly now.”

Merral sensed in his face and posture an attitude of total defiance.

“I must act in this fashion in order to save the Assembly. Great tasks demand courageous actions. I have been called; I must not falter or fail.”

The screen went blank.

Ludovica walked back to Merral. “There is a full meeting of the committee tomorrow at nine and we would like you to be there. We'd like your recommendations on this and other matters.” She nodded at the diary. “But any comments on that?”

Merral hesitated, trying to say something sensible. “I need to think about it. He hinted at this when I last saw him, but I didn't understand what he was suggesting.”

“What do you think about this other reason he had? We drew a blank on it.”

“I think it is linked to Professor Gerry Habbentz.”

Ludovica's face showed no recognition of the name.

“A physicist. She was working on weapons. Big weapons—very big. Yes, that would be it. Clemant thinks he has a weapon, but he doesn't want to talk about it.” He realized he had to talk to Vero. “Can I make a call?”

“Of course.”

“Vero,” he said as the dark-skinned face appeared on the screen. “Where are you?”

Vero's expression was one of utter misery. “Brenito's old house. You've heard the news?”

“About the
Dove
?”

“I'm so sor—”

“So am I. But we need to act. I'm on my way to talk to you. In the meantime, can you check on Gerry Habbentz? We need to find where she is.”

“Gerry?” Vero's look was one of bemusement. “Of course, but is she important?”

“I think she's on the ship. I think I saw her on the images from the
Dove
and Clemant mentioned that she was looking at the data and had found it alarming.”

Vero grimaced as if he had swallowed something bitter. “I'll chase her up.”

“Do that. Look, I'll see you soon.”

Merral put the diary back on his belt. He wondered about telling Ludovica that they might be able to access a second Below-Space ship, but decided against it. That could wait.

“What has happened at the peninsula?” he asked.

“Ah.” A look of discomfort crossed Ludovica's face. “Zak disabled the ships. He was going to launch an attack, but two days ago, Clemant recalled him to Isterrane. Since then there has been a holding operation. The problem is that the forces there are still controlled by a small group of men loyal to Zak.”

Merral groaned. “Go on.”

Ludovica gave a little sigh. “They do not accept the authority of the new committee.”

“So you have a rebel unit.”

“Yes. You will be asked to try and negotiate.”

Merral said nothing. His mind was consumed by the appalling realization of the extent to which evil had invaded his world.
All our unity has fled
.
We are now divided against each other.
For some reason he thought of his parents.

“I will do what I can. You have my cooperation.”

“Thank you.”

Merral stared up at the trees for a last, lingering moment. “Let me collect the few things I have. I need to talk with Vero again.”

An hour later, as the sun was setting over Isterrane Bay in a ball of orange flame, Merral knocked on the wooden door of Brenito's old house.

The door opened to reveal a large and familiar figure.

“Evening, sir,” Lloyd said with a smart salute.

“Good evening, Sergeant,” Merral replied, reaching up to clap him on the shoulder. “It's very good to see you.”

“My feelings exactly, sir.” Lloyd gave an awkward little cough. “I wish to apologize for deserting you at the airport. Mr. V. said you wouldn't have wanted me to pick a fight.”

Merral smiled. “I didn't. No, you did right. And you made a fine medical orderly.”

“You reckon so, sir? I was thinking I might retrain when this is all over.”

“Ah. ‘When this is all over' is a fine phrase, Sergeant. But sadly we aren't there yet and Clemant has made life more complex by stealing the
Dove
. And we have to sort out this Lezaroth at Langerstrand yet. So there's work to do.”

Lloyd nodded. “So I reckon you will be needing my services for a bit longer yet.”

“I'm afraid so.”

There was a contented smile.

“How's Vero?”

Lloyd shook his head. “Mr. V. is bit low. He's in the main room. Go on through, sir, but mind the cases. Mr. Brenito's things.”