Dark Foundations (103 page)

Merral turned, seeing Anya leaning close to him as if for reassurance. There was a long silence.

Merral looked at the shadowed bulk of Azeras. “One other question, Sarudar. Clemant mentioned that Nezhuala was constructing a colossal construction in space—the Blade of Night. What is it?”

Azeras shifted awkwardly against the balcony rail. “The Blade . . .” Merral heard unease—or was it fear?—in his voice. “Yes, you need to know about that now. I should have said something earlier, but I didn't want to alarm you.”

“What is it?” Vero asked.

“It is what Nezhuala calls his great project. He has been making it for years. Nezhuala's base is Khalamaja, one of the four inhabited worlds that orbit Sarata. Above it, Nezhuala has been building a vast structure in space.” Azeras stared up, looking at the stars as if he could see what he was talking about. “It is an enormous edifice of metal and stone—by far the largest structure ever made by men. It is a sort of continuous Gate. It extends from what you call Normal-Space down for hundreds of kilometers, maybe more by now.”

“What is its purpose?”

“That's never been made clear, but what we learned from prisoners is that Nezhuala sees it as something that will link the Nether-Realms to Standard-Space. The reality is that it is a dimensional excavation that goes deeper and deeper into the Nether-Realms.” Azeras stared into the darkness and visibly shuddered. “He parades it as if it were a tower up to the heavens. Instead it is a shaft down to hell.” The words were sharp.

Merral heard a sharp intake of breath from Anya. Vero put his coffee mug down on a table nearby so awkwardly that it rattled.

“But why has he made it?” Merral asked, already grappling with the implications of the only answer that there could be.

Azeras looked long at the darkening sky before answering. “Power. Nezhuala derives his power from there. As the Blade has been built, so the power of the Dominion has risen. From down there comes his confidence and drive.”

Merral felt Anya grab his hand.

“S-so this project is an attempt to release the energies in deepest Below-Space?” Merral heard a flatness in Vero's voice almost as if the whole idea was so overwhelming that no emotion was adequate to express it.

“Yes and he has done it. He has already released the baziliarchs and now he has gone deeper still.”

“Where there is the one,” Vero said softly.

“The one. The great serpent—the one who writhes in endless hate.” Azeras's voice was a low harsh whisper.

“Have you seen the Blade?” Merral asked.

“Once—two years ago on a mission that didn't succeed. I saw it far away.” Azeras's voice seemed to fail and when he spoke again, his voice was husky with emotion. “Even from a hundred kilometers away it can be seen, blocking out stars. It was not finished then. It may be now.”

Silence fell.

Suddenly the watch adjunct to Merral's diary pulsed urgently on his wrist.

“Excuse me,” Merral said, looking at his diary, “I have an emergency call from Ludovica.” He returned inside.

Ludovica was inside some sort of transport that was evidently moving at a rapid pace. Her face was pale and anguished.

“Merral here. What's the problem?”

“I have some bad news. It's Langerstrand. Three hours ago the Krallen there suddenly attacked the surrounding forces. In the confusion the
Dove
shuttle took off. It's now in an odd orb—”

“It was immobilized!”

“So we had been told. Lezaroth had the damage fixed, waited until our forces were in disarray, and then took off. We have only just learned what has happened. Lanier is taking charge at Langerstrand. There have been a lot of casualties, but the Dominion forces have now all been destroyed.”

“The hostages?”

“They are all on board the ship.” Ludovica's face seemed even paler.

“No!”

“Yes, I know. I'm sorry. I'm on my way to Space Affairs. They're launching a vessel with an assault crew to intercept it. But it will be six hours, at least, before it can intercept.”

“But it's got nowhere to go.”
Or has it?
With a chill Merral heard again the envoy's words:
The results of your actions remain.
This was another penalty for his having gone to Ynysmant.
Had I been here I would have resolved the hostage crisis before this could happen.

“Commander, are you all right?”

“Sorry, Ludovica. Just struggling with the news. I need to talk to some people here. When you get to Space Affairs, call the ship. See if you can get a response. Tell Lezaroth—use whatever titles he wants—that Commander D'Avanos wishes to talk to him personally.”

“Will do.”

Merral walked back to the veranda. “Azeras, the
Dove
shuttle took off from the peninsula three or so hours ago. It's in orbit . . . with the hostages.”

Azeras said something that Merral took to be a curse. “No! Zak should have realized that window elements can be fixed.”

“But Lezaroth is stuck in orbit, isn't he?”

“Yes. Unless . . .” Azeras's face had a growing expression of fear.

“Unless what?”

“Unless there is another ship in Below-Space.”

“Not another warship?”

“No. If there was, Lezaroth would have used it. A supply vessel. A freighter.” Azeras shook his head, as he looked up. “You must hope that there isn't.” There was a tremor in his voice.

“And if there is such a ship?”

But Azeras had walked away and leaned over the balcony.

Merral followed. As he drew nearer, he saw Azeras's shoulders heaving.

“What is it?”

The man shook his head.

Merral decided to leave him alone and instead returned inside with the others.

A few minutes later Ludovica was back on screen. Merral projected it on the wall.

“I'm at Space Affairs. It gets worse. I'm afraid they've seen something emerging not far from the shuttle. It's obviously from Below-Space.”

“Can you get me an image?”

She looked around and gestured to someone offscreen. A few moments later a shaking image of a gray metallic form appeared. Close to it could be seen the white form of the
Dove
shuttle. Docking appeared imminent.

Out of the corner of his eye, Merral saw Azeras come in and stare at the screen.

“If you can, destroy it! Now!” Azeras' voice shook with deep emotion. Merral looked up and saw that the gaunt face was wet with tears.

“Sorry, Merral, I didn't catch that.”

“Ignore it. I will get back to you, Ludovica. Keep feeding me images though.”

Merral muted the diary and disregarding the troubled faces of Anya and Vero, turned to Azeras. “Sarudar,” he said, “tell me, honestly. What will happen to the hostages?”

Azeras shook his head. “They will be taken to Sarata.” The lips trembled.

“And there?”

“I don't want to say.” With wavering fingers Azeras made the strange encircling motion.

“We need to know.”

Azeras blinked and suddenly the words tumbled out. “Lezaroth will need to appease the anger of his master for the failure here. He will give him information about the Assembly. And . . . he will offer him the living for those he deals with. They will probably be sent to the Blade of Night, and there given as food for the baziliarchs and bait for the steersmen. That's what he has always done.”

On the edge of his vision, Merral saw Anya, her eyes wide in a bloodless face, staring at Azeras with silent horror. Vero's mouth was open in dismay.

“That is why I say, if you have the means, destroy that ship. It will be a . . . mercy!”

Suddenly Azeras buried his face in his hands. “I lied!
They
did not torch Tellzanur.
I
did.” His shoulders shook. “I burned women and children alive to save them from just this.”

As Merral caught the horrified looks, a single thought pulsed in his brain:
Isabella is on that ship
.

Lord, what do I do?
An enormous vista of appalling choices opened before him.
Give me wisdom, Lord.

“Thank you, Azeras,” he said.

Anya helped Azeras gently to a chair.

Merral touched the speak button on the diary. “Ludovica, do we have a weapon that can destroy that ship? Can you ask?”

“Are you serious? That would mean—” Her face was white and disbelieving.

“Just ask!”

She turned away. Merral glimpsed Anya staring at him and he swung away so he wouldn't have to see her. He needed facts.

“Azeras,” he said brusquely, “what is that ship? I need answers.”

“A freighter, a star series—the same as the
Rahllman's Star
. Probably automated, so maybe without a crew. The
Dove
didn't have a steersman chamber, so maybe Lezaroth just had them both follow the
Triumph
. That's how these things work.”

“And how long before they disappear into Below-Space?”

“Docking doesn't seem to have started yet. And they have passengers to transfer. Say an hour minimum.”

“Thank you.”

On the diary Ludovica, her face oblique to the screen, talked with a young man. She turned to Merral. “There is a supply rocket at Near Station. If it is fired now, it will strike them in fifty minutes. The kinetic energy released by the collision will . . . vaporize the ship.”

“And could our rocket be aborted in flight?”

“Wait.” Behind her, Merral glimpsed a young man nodding. “Yes,” she said.

“Then launch it.”

Merral heard a sharp intake of breath from Vero.

Ludovica stared at him. “Are you . . . ? Over thirty lives. . . . Are you sure?”

“Yes. I take full responsibility.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Merral saw Anya walk unsteadily out of the room.

Ludovica closed her eyes for a moment and then opened them. “Launch. That's an order.”

There was a pause. “Rocket fired,” said a voice off the camera.

“Thank you, Ludovica,” Merral said, appalled at how level his voice sounded. “Keep this line open.”

Merral made a mental note of the time and muted the diary again. Aware of Vero staring at him, he picked up a chair and sat in front of Azeras.

“Sarudar, please. We need to talk.”

Slowly and hesitantly, the man looked up at him, but he said nothing.

“Now listen. We have less than an hour. I want to explore an alternative to destroying the
Dove
shuttle. Let's ignore Earth and the Assembly. Forget them. Now, I need an answer. Can we chase them with the
Rahllman's Star
and catch them? rescue them?”

“You want to go
that
way?” The dark gray eyes were wide.

“Yes. But I need honest answers. And I need
all
the facts.” Merral marveled again at how he could be so calm.
“Now.”

“L-let me think. They have a start. Perhaps no more than two days. Lezaroth will go as fast as he can. But he's probably got no steersman and maybe only a partial crew—some of the
Dove'
s crew were killed. So they will be slow.” Azeras flexed his left fingers and stared at the glowing patch on the back of his hand. “I calculate five weeks—maybe—to get to Sarata. No sooner.”

“And us, how fast?”

“The same, plus the few days it would take to get ready. We can't beat them, if that's what you're thinking.”

“W-what if you drove the
Rahllman's Star
deeper through Below-Space?” Vero suddenly asked.

“You don't want to go deeper. The deeper Nether-Realms get nasty.”

Merral caught Azeras's eye. “If we ignore that risk, could we catch them?”

“Yes. But you might not be sane when you came out into Normal-Space.”

“And if we risked that, could we successfully intercept this ship?”

“Hypothetically, yes. Logically they'd aim for the main military docking station at Gerazon-Far in the Sarata system. They won't be expecting a rescue attempt; they think the only active Below-Space vessel here is already headed earthward. And they don't do mercy rescues. Lezaroth doesn't understand the concept.”

Merral was aware of Anya standing by the kitchen door, her expression unreadable.

“Would we have to use a steersman?”

“You killed the only one we had. But no, the journey will largely retrace a journey that has already been taken. We have the coordinates. You back navigate.”

Merral looked at his watch. Time was passing. His mouth was dry. “Sarudar Azeras, I want to us to chase that ship in the
Rahllman's Star
. I need you to fly it.”

There was a pause. “No. I don't want to go back. Not there. Sorry.”

“I understand your reluctance. It is not a path I wish to take. I would go alone if I could fly the ship.”

“You gave me freedom.”

“We did. And I cannot order you.”

Azeras stared at him. “Commander, what happens if I continue to refuse?”

“There will be a new star in the sky in . . . what . . . just over forty minutes.”

Merral caught an appalled look from Anya and saw Vero shake his head. “Are you really serious about this?” they seemed to ask.

Azeras rose from his seat and paced heavily to the window, his head slumped on his shoulders. He stared out and then turned back to face Merral. “I have shed enough innocent blood. I will take you to the Dominion. Call off the missile.”

“That is a promise?”

“On my oath.”

“Thank you.” Merral said. He tapped the diary. “Ludovica?”

An anxious face greeted him. “Yes?”

“Cancel the attack. We found a way of pursuing them.”

“Thank you, God,” she whispered and turned to the young man nearby. “Abort.”