Dark Foundations (8 page)

After another quarter of an hour of walking up the path, they began to crest the hill. The snow under the trees was thicker now, although everywhere it was melting and there was the constant sound of running water. The cedars were smaller and more twisted and had tiny red cyclamens and crocuses amid their roots.

To the east was a high mountain with snow draped around the summit like a cloak.

“Mount Hermon—Jebel esh Sheik in the old language,” Ethan said, his words broken up by little gasps.

They walked farther on until they stood on the ridge itself. There as they caught their breath, they took in the gnarled line of the Anti-Lebanon range, the icy heights of Hermon, and the long intervening plain of the Bekaa Valley below them. The air was clear and the flat valley floor was a dazzling mosaic of livid green patches of fresh vegetation and gleaming silver expanses of open water. Flocks of white birds could be seen below, some flying, some roosting in the trees.

“Storks,” Ethan said. “They're nesting at the Aammiq Wetland.”

Andreas nodded. “Evocative. How does it go in the psalms? ‘The Lord's trees are well watered—the cedars of Lebanon that he planted. The birds build their nests there, and the storks have their homes in the pine trees.'” He fell silent.

Ethan looked down the valley, following the traces of disused roads. In places there were ancient ruins and in others, modern buildings could be seen. He gestured east. “At night, you can just see the lights of Damascus, one of the oldest of cities.”

“All our past laid out before us,” Andreas said, toying with his beard. “Here, beauty and history meet.” After gazing at it a while, he turned and looked north along the ridge.

Ethan watched a line of buzzards migrating north, as he thought about his choices.
If I were to stay on as chairman, when would I come back here or anywhere like it? I would face endless deadlines and meetings. The best I can expect will be snatched hours in parks and gardens between meetings
. The thought appalled him.

“Eeth, I sympathize,” Eliza said. She stood near him. “I can guess your thoughts. You didn't sign up for what your job is about to become. Becoming chairman was a known quantity when you took it on. Starting tomorrow it's all different.”

“I could do the job, I think, or at least as well as anyone can.”

“I agree.”

“Andreas is right though. There is a lot to do with my personal comfort. Oh, I will have helpers and secretaries, but it will squeeze me badly.” He paused and stared across the great valley. “And, Eliza, I say to God, isn't it enough to set it going? Haven't I done all I need to do? The last month has been bad enough and it's going to get worse. Can't I be spared?”

“I can't answer that. You
can
do the job. God will support you, if you let him.” She shrugged. “But these are easy words to say.”

Nothing more was spoken between them for some time. The hum of insects, the whisper of the wind in the trees, and the calls of birds were heard, but there were no other sounds.

“Odd,” Andreas suddenly said, his voice clear in the stillness. “Very odd.”

“What?” Eliza called out. “What do you see?”

“The ground here. It's not natural. See this ditch?” He gestured toward a long, rough linear depression broken up by trees. “These are man-made features.”

Ethan noted the structure he was referring to and glimpsed something half buried at the near end. He walked over, wondering what might have once been there. A summer palace? Some ancient biblical feature?

The object that caught his eye was next to a cluster of crimson cyclamens. It was just a slab of stone. Or was it?

Ethan bent down and peered at the crumbling, rotting rock, then picked up a fragment and held it up to the light.

“What is it?” Eliza asked.

“Concrete. Badly weathered. Very old.” He looked at the view ahead, feeling a sudden sharp pang of realization.
Of course. How appropriate
.

He called Andreas over.

“I'm afraid all this is the remains of a fortification. Twentieth to mid-twenty-first century. We have ramparts, a trench, and a concrete bunker. A strategic site.”

Andreas's face twisted up as if he had just smelled something disagreeable.

“There were many wars here,” Eliza said, as if to herself.

Ethan watched as Andreas wandered slowly around the floor of the ditch, shaking his head. He stopped to peer over the ruined ramparts, then walked back and squatted on the slab near Ethan and propped his thin face between his hands.

Eventually, Andreas spoke in a voice thick with emotion. “It is surely no accident we are here this day. This, Ethan and Eliza, is what we want to bring back.” He tapped the concrete lightly as if he found it contaminating. “No, I do not seek to dissuade you. It must be done. But I can see this as it was.” His voice became quieter and taut. “I see ghosts.”

Ethan saw Eliza's face tighten as Andreas continued. “I can see them now: scared, pale-faced boys from farms firing bullets or lasers at other scared, pale-faced boys from farms.” Andreas motioned with his hand along the ditch. “All those thousands and thousands of years ago, lined up behind these bulwarks with camouflage jackets and body armor. All waiting for death to strike them at any moment. I can hear the firing, the screams, and hear the orders. I can see the wounded being attended, see the ground wet with blood as red as that cyclamen. I can smell the smoke, the burned flesh, and the fear. I can feel the hate.”

Andreas stood. His face was blanched. “Friend Ethan, this has been a great help. There is a problem with language. We glibly use words without seeing their real meaning. We talk about war and we think about deaths and maybe injuries. But it's more than just death. If it were that, it would be bad, but it would be manageable. After all, we all will die. But it isn't just simply death, it is all the other bits—the blood, the torn flesh, and all the hatred and fear that goes with it.”

Has he changed his mind?
“So, Andreas, you are advising me not to put the Assembly on a war footing?”

The answer was slow in coming. “No, that's not what I'm saying. Ethan, war is like a very hot object—if you handle it for more than the briefest time, you will be burned. It corrupts. So, if we have to have a war, let's do it as quickly as we can. We should make it our goal to win and end any conflict as fast as possible. War is so horrid a business that we must do all we can to cut it short.”

“Thank you,” Ethan said.

Silence fell.

They're waiting for me
.

“I too have learned more here than I thought.”

He caught Eliza staring at him, dark eyebrows raised in inquiry. “Yes. Professor Andreas's ghosts have been helpful. They've solved my third issue.”

“How so, Eeth?”

Ethan gestured at the eroded trench. “I can hardly ask for a sacrifice from others if I am not prepared for it myself. It would be selfish. No, I will stay in office as long as it is helpful. Whatever it costs.”

“Well said, Eeth.”

“Good point.”

“Friends,” Ethan said. “I think it's time to walk back.”

He looked at his diary adjunct. “Nearly four. By this time tomorrow, our world will have changed.”

He sighed and turned his back on the valley, the mountain, and the trees. “And I must be a part of it.”

3

V
erofaza Enand bounded down the sunlit steps of Western Isterrane Main Hospital. He tried to ignore the stares of the people clustered at the entrance as he ran over to the small two-seater transport parked by the gate.

A woman with short, auburn hair sitting in the driver's seat looked up, her gray-blue eyes registering alarmed inquiry.

“M-Merral's in q-quarantine, P-P-Perena! For a w-week!” Vero blurted out. He hated the stammer in his voice.
It's the stress.

“But is he okay?” Perena Lewitz asked.

“Yes. I talked to him through a comms link.”

He suddenly noted the direction of Perena's eyes, and turned to see that people continued to stare at him.

“Get in,” she said, sliding the door open.

Vero sat in the passenger seat and closed the door. “They're watching me.”
And I don't like it.

“Your skin marks you out as an offworlder.” Her voice was calm, analytical even. “And now that Farholme has been turned upside down, people are suddenly sensitive to anything different. Don't forget many of those people are waiting for news of casualties.”

Yes, it's just curiosity, driven by anxiety
.
But I don't like being the center of attention
.

Perena pressed the motor switch. The transporter glided away. “So what happened?” she asked. “Merral was okay yesterday. You talked to him. And Anya . . .” Her words hinted at awkwardness as she mentioned her sister.
I must try and find out what has happened between Merral and Anya.

“It was Corradon's speech yesterday and his mention of Merral ‘heroically entering the intruder ship.' The medical authorities suddenly realized they had broken every guideline on biohazard containment and that Merral could be incubating all sorts of plagues and diseases. So they rushed him into a sterile isolation unit. A classic case of locking the stable door after the horse has bolted.”

“The horse has what?” She smiled suddenly. “Oh. I get it.”

“He'll be there for forty-eight hours while they investigate him in detail and then, all being well, they plan to move him to a disease isolation unit for five days—no guests.”

“Best thing for him.” Now her smile seemed tired. “Look, where do you want to go? I'm just driving around at the moment.”

“Perena, I need time to think. Badly. I was hoping to sound some ideas off Merral, but I can't do it with a ward of technicians listening in. Somewhere quiet, please.”

“I know a quiet park. I often run there.”

She turned off along an avenue lined by high trees.

Almost Earthlike.
He regretted the thought, because it made him homesick.

“The thing is, P.—” Vero paused, wondering if she would object to the contraction but she didn't—“I looked no further than the encounter with the ship. I rather hoped, I suppose, that whatever happened there would sort things out.”

Perena shrugged. “What else could you have done? No one knew what we would find.”

“Thanks for that reassurance. But now there's a new threat. And we have to produce an expanded Defense Force f-for an attack that might come any day. I don't know where to begin. Well, I do, but it's s-staggering.”

Perena nodded slightly, her eyes never leaving the road.

Funny
to be driven around town at forty kilometers an hour by a spaceship pilot more used to speeds a thousand times that
.

“I face a similar problem,” Perena said, in her quiet, understated way.

Does she ever lose her temper? ever panic? She must be very soothing to live with.
“How so?” he asked.

“Corradon promised a defense capacity with a ‘range out to the system's edge.' It was a great line. Very reassuring. But I don't think the representative had thought it through. A planetary system is 3-D, not flat like the maps on walls. And the volumes get horrendous when you have what is effectively a sphere with a radius of six billion kilometers.”

“Ah. You mean we're wide open to attack?”

“Near enough. We can't defend Farholme with the dozen deep-space vessels we have.”

So there
is
no real protection. That makes things a whole lot harder.

“Is that why you play chess the old way?” he asked.

“Rather than the 3-D versions? That's a part of it. The mind can just about handle five moves ahead on a flat board. But if you add an extra dimension, it gets too overwhelming.”

Vero stared out of the window. “There's so much to think about. Vehicles, accommodation, structure, communications, and a dozen other things. I have tons of ideas, but they all need to be thought through.”

“You can't do it all on your own, you know.”

He smiled at the concern in her voice. “I know I can't, P. I just have to try to set up a system that will enable us to get started on building Farholme's defenses. Get the ball rolling. I am making a list of what I need. Of course, the basis will be the existing Farholme Defense Unit.”

Perena pulled through gates into broad rolling parkland studded with copses and avenues of trees. Despite the sunny afternoon, it appeared largely empty. There were small knots of people, some deep in conversation, and a few families, but otherwise the park had a deserted air.

“There is too much news to digest,” Perena said as they overtook a bus with just three passengers on board.