Dark Foundations (64 page)

Over the next few hours, Merral found himself fully occupied by the myriad issues to do with the defenses. He made calls to the colonels of the regiments and the people in charge of the defenses of the main cities to check on their progress. The red alert galvanized the planet into action. From the rain-forest villages of the southern isles to the icy northern ports of the Balanide Chains, every community seemed to be involved in feverish activity. The smallest settlements were emptied; around all the others, trenches and walls were created or strengthened. Everywhere, arms and armor were issued.

In between making his calls Merral looked at the images of the
Triumph of Sarata
to see if there was activity. Soon four vessels—three large cylinders and a smaller cone-shaped ship, separated and began an ominous descent toward Farholme.

One new complication soon emerged. The entrances to the Langerstrand center had been closed with the thirty people working on the liaison project still inside. Those inside were cut off from communication and it was not long before a new and troubling word was heard in the war room:
hostages
.

With ten minutes to go before the deadline, Corradon walked into the tiny annex to the war room that served as Merral's office. He sat on the edge of a chair, his face overflowing with anguish.

“What am I supposed to do?” he asked in plaintive tone. “Is it possible that it is a bluff?”

“Perhaps. But I wouldn't assume so.”

The representative reached into an inside pocket and pulled out the small transparent box. “This is all they want,” he said, in sad wonderment, lifting the lid so that the gray wafer could be fully seen. “This pathetic little sliver of synthetic material. Is
this
worth the lives of men, women, and children?”

Merral suddenly felt such an overwhelming sympathy for this man and his dilemma that he felt unable to answer.

Corradon rubbed his face in his hands. “If I say no, I condemn people to die.”

Merral felt he had to speak. “True. But if you say yes, you betray the Assembly. And if, as we believe, the Dominion needs the data in the Library in order to attack the Assembly, then both choices involve potential deaths.”

Corradon shook his head in dismay and thrust the box back into his pocket.

Clemant soon entered and noiselessly took up a position in a corner of the room.

In silence, they watched as the figures on the clock slipped by. When 12:00 arrived, Corradon buried his head in his hands, his broad shoulders shaking.

The silence continued.

Over the next few hours, the three large cylinders landed at Langerstrand while the smaller one stayed in low orbit. Images from the peninsula showed machinery being unloaded and excavations beginning around the liaison center. Within an hour, a structure was formed from massive sheets—a tower of dark metal that grew like a vast, severed tree trunk.

Merral received a call from Vero. “I'm staying out of sight,” Vero said, “there's plenty to do.”

“Can we save this village?”

“No. We don't know where it is. We can hope the irregulars may make a defense. But that's all so far.”

“So far?”

“There may be other means of defense later. But we can't use them yet.”

“Vero, from here this doesn't look good.”

“My friend, it's not much better down here. But we have plans. Have faith.”

Shortly afterward Prebendant Delastro turned up, his long, bronze-tipped staff in hand. Merral detected a grim satisfaction in his expression.

“So, Commander—as I suspected—the Dominion is revealed in its true colors: a vile body of bloodthirsty and aggressive liars. Their deception is unmasked. They are the brood of demons.”

“I'm afraid that seems entirely possible,” Merral answered carelessly, wishing that he would go away.

Delastro gave him a sudden penetrating look. “Why did you say ‘I'm afraid'?”

“Because I prefer to believe the best of people. I do not delight in the discovery of evil.”

The prebendant flinched. “Nor, of course, do I. But the exposure of evil is the first work of the man of God.” He paused. “We must trust that this envoy of yours will deliver us.”

“I see him as the Lord's envoy, not mine.”

“Of course, but a weapon given for us to wield.”

“Prebendant, I am very busy. How can I help you?”

“I just came to offer you my support.”

“Very good of you.”

“You can rely on me, Commander. You know where I stand.”

“Meaning?”

“There are others whose real allegiance is less plain. . . .” A rather twisted smile crossed his triangular face. “Whose manner is, shall we say, darker?”

Merral stared at him.
Silence is best
.

“The questions about Sentinel Enand have never been answered. He has set up a base in the very foundations of Isterrane. He has men who obey only his orders. He spies on us all.”

“I think that's a bit strong,” Merral said as firmly as he felt he could without risking a confrontation
.

The prebendant glared at Merral. “I found out he was observing my Library habits.”

“I see.” Merral remembered that Vero had mentioned discovering the prebendant's interest in angels. He wondered why, at the moment when he needed all the support he could get, he had to deal with this man.

“Commander, he is not really one of us. Who knows what he's conjuring down there? What powers? Dark by complexion, dark by action.”

Now barely able to suppress his anger, Merral rose from his seat and ushered Delastro to the door. “Prebendant, I don't think this is a helpful discussion. I have better things to do.”

“I'm just warning you. It's my duty as chaplai—”

“Good-bye!” Merral pushed him out and slammed the door shut.

That night Vero, struggling to sleep on his camp bed, was suddenly aware of a knocking at his door.

“Who is it?”

“Perena.” He heard a strange note in her voice.

“What? Hang on.” Vero looked at the wall clock; it was just after two. He pulled a dressing gown over his sleepsuit and opened the door, noting that she was in uniform. “P.! Come in. Take a seat. Any news? I was expecting to hear some.”

“Not yet. It's impossible to guess their target.”

“What can I do for you?”
This is no social call
.
How
pale she looks.

Perena sat stiffly on the very edge of a nearby chair.

“Vero, the fact that there is a single military vessel has confirmed that a . . . a plan I have may work. To destroy this monster.”

“T-that would be . . . welcome news. Actually, that's a bit of an understatement. How?”

“The Guardian satellites have the firepower to vaporize this ship.”

“I remember. We talked about them. But I thought you said they were too static.”

“They are. But if this
Triumph
can be persuaded to move on a trajectory toward Farholme the Guardian system would consider it an incoming comet or meteor and open fire.”

But it won't work.
“Elegant. But I have objections, which will hardly have escaped you. How do you get them to take that trajectory?”

“We trick them.” Her face was ashen. “It's your sort of strategy. We make them chase something, something they need to catch.”

“Such as?”

“A ship heading to recover the
Rahllman's Star
.”

“That'd get their interest. But surely, they'd wait until it was recovered?”

“By which time it might be too late. According to Azeras, you can send a signal into Below-Space when you get near a hidden ship and order it to match your speeds as it rises. So if you get the timing right, you can dock and vanish in minutes.” He could hear the excitement in her voice. “They would want to seize such a ship while they could, if they thought it held the location of the
Rahllman's Star
.”

“Maybe. Another objection, though. Didn't you say—it seems like years ago—that there was a password system so that the Guardians don't fire at our ships?”

“True. All our ships emit a signal that identifies them as vessels, not lumps of rock or ice. But a non-Assembly ship might not send it.”

“They'd copy any signal we'd send.”

Perena paused before speaking. “Yes. But we could always give the wrong signal.”

Somewhere in Vero's brain something clicked ominously.
I don't like this.

“This would be a piloted mission. Right?” At her nod, he asked, “By . . . you?”

She nodded again.

Suddenly, the enormity of it all was terribly plain. “B-but surely, P., you'd be destroyed as well.”

There was a lengthy and heavy silence. Finally, Perena spoke, her words coming out slowly. “Yes. There is a risk. A high one.”

“Tell me you aren't serious!”

“I am. But with an ejection capsule, I might escape. I'd need picking up within a few days though.”

Vero walked a few paces away, his brain reeling, and then turned round. “I would prefer any other strategy. Any!”

“And so would I. But if we are going to use this, we need to work on it, very soon.”

He tried to think of the practicalities, which seemed to push the horror of the idea slightly into the background. “Yes. They
must
pursue you. And it will only work once.”
But how?
His mind ran in a dozen directions.

“Will you help me?” she asked.

“H-Help you on a strategy that may kill you?”

“Yes.”

For some moments, Vero could say nothing. He felt close to tears. “If I must,” he said and put his head in his hands. He sighed. “And I suppose I must.”

An aide woke Merral at five. “Sir, the fourth vessel is coming down at the edge of the Western Varrend at a village called Tantaravekat.”

“Tantaravekat,” Merral repeated, rolling over to face the ceiling. He knew of the place, on a remote road intersection in the middle of the barren Aknal Plain.