Dark Foundations (71 page)

There was a deafening blast of sound. Merral, already at the door, glimpsed an appalling something of torn flesh and gleaming metal tumbling backward.

“Doesn't seem you were much of a lady,” Lloyd muttered.

Another man with chest armor burst into the room, and after surveying the scene, bent over Corradon's motionless form.

At the end of the room, the translucent wall crumbled entirely and a monstrous form, twice the height of any human being, seemingly made up of dark, resinous sheets, began to elbow its way in.

Merral stared at it, feeling like an ant before a great predatory insect.

Hazderzal edged slowly away like a man in a trance.

“Clear the room!” Lloyd yelled.

Merral found himself pushed roughly down the corridor.

“Gotta leave, sir.” Lloyd said. “There's a war we need you for. . . . Corradon's dead.”

“Right.”
I have lost a friend.
The thought stabbed at his heart.

They ran down the smoke-blackened corridor, stepping over debris.

There was smoke in the air and the lights flickered and fizzed.

Then they were out in the dazzling sunlight and pounding across the heat of the runway to the open door of the scout vessel. As Merral scrambled on board—the last of the three—the scout rolled forward under full power.

Merral staggered to a seat, his chest heaving.

Lloyd sat next to him and took off his helmet. “Welcome aboard, sir!” he gasped.

“Thanks.” Merral wiped his brow. As the scout lifted off and banked sharply eastward, Merral was silent, trying to understand what had happened in the last quarter of an hour.

“Sergeant, I'm . . . confused. Where did you come from?”

“When you left, me and this guy here—” Lloyd paused while the other man—the ship's technician—saluted—“put on our armor—it's the new stuff—and waited for the signal. Then, as they say, we made our entrance.”

“So you knew?”

“I was warned yesterday.”

“I don't understand, Lloyd.
Is
the
Triumph
destroyed?”

“Yes, sir.” His aide's expression suddenly became somber and as it did, some of the vague concerns in Merral's mind coalesced into a dreadful surmise.

“Lloyd,” he said softly, and he realized that he almost dared not ask the question, “Is she . . . Perena . . . all right?”

There was no immediate answer. The other soldier suddenly turned his face away.

Lloyd rubbed away a tear. “Her ship got it too.” He swallowed. “She's dead.”

24

A
s soon as they landed at Isterrane Vero boarded the flier. He embraced Merral and as Lloyd and the other soldier slipped away, they shed tears together.

“She played chess,” Merral said, and the words sounded heavy and stupid. “She made a sacrifice.” The word seemed to stick in his throat.

Vero sighed as if his heart would break. He flopped onto a seat, wiped his puffy eyes, and pulled an envelope out of his pocket. “It-its . . .” He stopped, overcome with emotion and silently thrust it into Merral's hand.

With shaking fingers Merral tore it open.

Dear Merral,

This is one of two notes I have written to you. That you are reading this one means that I have succeeded in having the Triumph destroyed. I apologize that we could not involve you in our scheme. Please forgive Vero for misleading you.

I do not wish you to grieve. I feel that the King has granted me a great privilege in allowing me to strike such a blow for him and the world I love. Be grateful. It has come to me recently that our lives are like stories. As much as we can, we must drive them to the right endings. The right ending is not always the longest one.

But even if you wish to grieve for me, I am afraid you will not have the luxury of doing so now. I believe you have been called and shaped by the Most High to lead us in battle. Now is your hour. In your grief, do not throw away what has been achieved.

I have played my bit. I charge you now to play yours.

With much love, in the King's service,

Perena

“‘A way of defense offered to you. A costly way. A way that only the very bravest will take.'” Merral said. His words seemed to hang in the air. “She took that to heart.”

Vero took a deep, quivering breath. “Yes. She is now beyond all temptation and sorrow. She is safely home in the Father's house with h-honor.”

“She says there is work to be done,” Merral said and saw an answering nod. “She . . . she also asks me to forgive you.”

“For l-lying to you? Yes, we have come to trust what Azeras said. He felt sure that your mind would be probed at some stage.”

“So, by making me believe she was going to find the
Rahllman's Star,
you felt we might use this unpleasant ability of the Dominion against them?”

“Yes.”

“Your cunning amazes me. Well, I forgive you.”

“Thank you. The baziliarch was there?”

“Yes. It's sort of a great insect, but more than that. . . . Horrid.” Merral looked at the letter again. “There's no chance?”

“That she survived? None. We watched the blasts. The Guardians did a thorough job. I had hoped she would eject, but . . . she apparently rejected that option.” He sighed and looked away with watery eyes.

“Lloyd killed Tinternli. There was metal in her—lots.”

“Azeras reckoned she and Hazderzal were heavily modified humans.”

“That fits. You know Corradon's dead too?”

“Yes. That will have implications, but military matters concern us now.”

“Wait, Vero! They have the key to the Library!”

“No.” Vero looked at the floor. “Another deception, I'm afraid. I felt there was a danger that Corradon might give it up. It's safe in the Library building. Harrent, the assistant librarian, has it. But that is for another day.” He fixed sad eyes on Merral. “Are you up to being what you have to be?”

Merral looked at the letter he was still holding, and with great care folded it and put it safely in his jacket pocket. “Yes. I need to grieve, but I know there are things to do.”

“Thank you. My friend, we need our warrior now and we need him very badly. Despite what has happened, there are still enough Krallen to destroy this world with ease. From what we know of him, Lezaroth will take command and act. Perena has prevented certain defeat, but it is still not at all clear we can win.”

“Right. Okay, Vero. Let's go to the war room.”

As Merral entered the war room he saw smiles of relief on the faces of the men and women who occupied the desks. They rose and applauded in a slow, subdued fashion.

They need me.
That's why they clapped
.
May God help me not to disappoint them.

Vero nudged him. “Better say something,” he whispered.

“Team,” Merral said, “you applaud me when you ought to applaud another. This morning Captain Lewitz destroyed the
Triumph
of Sarata
and paid the price. Her action has created a foundation we need to build on for victory. By the grace of God, we're going to finish what she began.” There were nods and murmurs of approval. “So let's get on with it.”

Merral sat next to Vero at a spare screen. “Vero, what's the priority?”

Vero tapped the screen a couple of times before answering. “My friend, the enemy forces seem paralyzed. . . . No signs of movement, but we mustn't expect it to last. Lezaroth will see to that. So we need to hit them with the vortex blaster satellites before they disperse or get into urban concentrations where we dare not strike them.”

“How soon can we use them?”

As Vero motioned a young woman engineer over, Merral noticed the length of her brown hair.
Short like Perena's.
Tears came to his eyes. He forced himself to think about what she had written:
In your grief, do not throw away what has been achieved.

“Both VB1 and VB2 are coming into position. We can begin firing in ten minutes.” The woman's voice was quiet and precise. “We have programmed them to fire simultaneously at each site to give a bigger circle of destruction. We will take out the Stepalis concentration first, then those near Maraplant and Kammart, and then, finally, the forces at Camolgi Hills.”

“We can't use the vortex blasters at Langerstrand because of the hostages,” Vero added.

“I see.”

The engineer turned to Merral. “That will leave us a single charge in reserve in both VB1 and VB2.”

“Will they work? I mean will they destroy the Krallen?”

The woman shrugged. “It's marginal. As you know, sir, they weren't designed to be weapons. They were made to sterilize areas where there was a biological problem. And they aren't supposed to be repeatedly fired.”

“We have no choice. So all you need to fire is an order from me?”

“Yes.”

“There are Dominion humans in those concentrations?”

“Inevitably. But not many.”

I have no option.
“May God have mercy on them. Fire as soon as the satellites are in position.”

“Thank you, sir.” She walked to a screen, tapped it, and then looked up. “Firing program initiated.”

“Let me know the results.” Merral turned to Vero. “What else?”

“We need to seize the
Dove of Dawn
to stop any escape. We have had a crew ready for a week at the Near Station training in secret. The pilot is Maria Brumeno—she was on the team that visited the ship—with a good assault group.”

“Can it be done?”

“We think so. There is a risk, but the ship is lightly defended. If we could seize it and recover the
Rahllman's Star,
we would have two vessels with Below-Space capability.”

“When can the team attack?”

“If you give the okay now, they will launch from the Near Station and attempt boarding in about twenty-four hours.”

It was an easy decision. “Order the assault. If they can't take the ship, disable it.”

Merral walked into the annex and called Clemant to confirm the situation: the
Triumph of Sarata
was destroyed and Perena and Corradon were dead.

Clemant was silent for a few moments, his face as blank as a porcelain doll's. Finally he said, “Two losses. Perena was brave beyond belief. And Anwar . . .” He sighed. “A great loss. But I'm glad that, in the end, he died bravely.”

“Yes.”

Clemant paused, as if struggling with what to say. “I should tell you that the remaining representatives have just agreed that I be made temporary coordinator for a week. The situation will then be evaluated.”

“What does that mean in practice?”

“It means that, much against my will, I am charged with waging this war.” Clemant paused and Merral sensed a genuine reluctance:
Vero is right.
He doesn't want power
.

“As such you and Mr. V.”—Clemant's face bore the faintest of frowns— “are responsible to me.” He waved a hand in a reassuring manner. “Now, I've the wisdom not to interfere in your work. The only thing I would say is I want to emphasize the priority of protecting Isterrane. The administration of Farholme is so focused here that if this city falls, the planet falls.”

“I'll make it a priority. Let me tell you what is happening. The Krallen positions will be attacked and the assault on the
Dove of Dawn
is being prepared.”

“Splendid. I endorse both actions. Keep me informed. But, Commander, one last thing—I would like you to make a speech tonight. You do them well. Please?”

“Must I?”

Clemant gave Merral a look that he found inarguable.

“Very well,” Merral replied.

“Thank you. But a small point, Commander: may I see the draft first?”

“As you wish.”