The Shadow and Night (44 page)

“Ah. I think—” Merral caught Vero's gesture and fell silent.

“Perena,” Vero interjected, “we need to see your sister about that. I think she knows something. But it's an odd story. And a worrying one.”

Perena wrinkled her nose. “
You
don't look much better, Vero. Matthew,” she ordered, “get some water for these guys to drink and perhaps a damp cloth to wash with.” She looked at them again. “I guess a hot shower with disinfectant is what's really needed.”

The crewman nodded assent and left the hold.

“Many thanks, Perena,” Merral gasped, realizing how glad he was to finally be off that besieged hill and in the ship. “That felt like an interesting bit of flying.”

“I agree,” Vero said, “even if, at the time, I may not have appreciated it. Where did you learn it?”

“It's called the Yenerag Maneuver. It's pretty specialized and normally envisaged as being for the evacuation of people from active volcanic sites—”

Perena raised a hand and seemed to listen to her earpiece. “Roger!” she snapped. “Continue on present course and speed, but watch those strain warnings. Maintain the self-sealant pressure.”

As she spoke, Matthew came in with water.

“Sorry, guys. It's busy time here. Matthew, can you run up to the bridge as soon as you can? Amira may need help. I'll be up in a moment.”

He gave Merral and Vero water and cloths and then left. As he did, Perena turned her cool slate blue eyes on them.

“Thank you for the appreciation. My computer is less amused and is telling me we have suffered major damage to the port lifting undersurface and minor to the starboard. From the nature of the damage and the speed of the impact, the computer has deduced that we were hit by multiple small meteoroids. It is clever enough to be puzzled as it realizes that we were flying in normal altitude near the ground and that meteoroids do not fall upward from a planetary surface. It is
not
clever enough to deduce the explanation. And, in truth, neither am I. It might be useful to know what hit us.”

Merral looked at her. “A beam weapon of some sort. High temperature, portable. Hot enough to melt rock.”

The eyes widened and she shook her head in incredulity. “Seriously? My ship really was fired on?”

“Yes. As we warned you.”

Her face acquired a look of astonishment mingled with unease. “And what does that mean?”

“Mean?” Vero shook his head. “I wish I knew. To start with, it means we need to have a meeting. You, us, and Anya. As soon as we land. Somewhere quiet.”

She nodded thoughtfully. “Fine. The self-repair systems are in operation and we are heading at high subsonic speeds—which is as fast as I dare—to Isterrane. I can't really spare you the time anyway now. In fact, I'd better get back to the bridge.”

Vero, rubbing dust off his face, spoke again. “What have you said to anybody so far?”

“Nothing much. I've been too busy. Wait. . . .” She raised a hand again, her absorbed face showing she was getting another message. “Okay, Amira, I'm coming up. We'll get Matthew to check the R3 coolant levels manually. Initiate clearances for possible emergency glide landings at every strip between here and Isterrane.”

She looked back at Vero. “Well, I've said we've got you. I've been a bit busy to do anything else. I'm afraid your alert about non-Assembly forces is being treated as evidence of delirium. Like the Youraban shuttle pilot who—oh, a century ago—was adamant that he was being attacked by thirty kilometer-long space octopods.”

Vero nodded. “I remember that. May I suggest, Captain Lewitz, that you try to land as far out of sight as possible. Encourage the crew to keep silent. We don't want a panic.”

“A panic?” Perena arched thin eyebrows. “No. I suppose you may have a point. I'll call Anya and have her meet us.”

She turned to the door.

“Perena?” Merral asked. “Just one quick question. You said you would be two hours in arriving. You were a half an hour. I don't understand.”

She reached for the guide rail and turned to him. “
I
didn't think it was delirium. And the mention of ‘non-Assembly forces' and ‘weapons' alarmed me. So, at first I felt it best not to say when I would arrive, and then I thought harder and decided that it might be safer—and quite legitimate—to mislead.” She looked faintly amused. “I have, after all, played a lot of old-time chess.”

“So you lied?” Vero asked, raising a dusty eyebrow in alarm.

“Vero, please!” Perena winked at him. “If you remember my communication, I told you that the Standard Operating Procedure would take two hours. I ignored the SOP and just corkscrewed in. Not pleasant, I may say. And risky, and we probably lost a centimeter of ablatative material off all my underside plates. So, do thank my crew. At worst, I misled you and your . . . enemies.” She frowned at the last word.

Then a new message came on her earpiece and she winced. “And even then it was a near thing. But”—and she gave a heartfelt sigh—“by the King's grace, we did it.”

An hour later, after a landing marked by a series of bounces and an odd slewing motion, they were on the ground at Isterrane.

16

A
s the ramp to the compartment swung down, Merral and Vero got to their feet. There was the smell of fresh, clean air with the hint of the sea, and through the doorway, Merral could see the black of the fused basalt runway below glinting under the lights of the landing strip. Then there was the sound of feet running up the gangway, and a red-haired figure in sweater and trousers appeared. A freckled face, blue eyes blinking in the light, peered up at them.

“Hi, guys!” Anya called out, her voice soft and concerned, and Merral sensed a seriousness to her that he was unfamiliar with.

“So, you had an interesting trip,” she whispered, staring at him and Vero with her eyes open wide.

With a strange throb of emotion, Merral realized that he was very pleased to see her.

“An understatement,” Vero commented in pained tones, gently shaking off dust.

Anya looked them over again and shook her head. “Well, if you think I'm going to hug and kiss either of you—especially you, Merral D'Avanos, when you look like an accident in a blood bank—not a hope. As for you, Sentinel Enand, you look like you failed to get out of a quarry before blasting.”

Merral looked at Vero and then down at his bloodied clothes and decided he didn't know whether to smile or shudder.

Perena's slim figure slipped in through a doorway. As she embraced her sister, she gestured to Merral and Vero. “Have you ever seen anything more disgusting?”

Anya shook her head as Perena continued urgently. “My poor ship needs a trip to Bay One for full damage assessment and repair. I've arranged for these guys to clean up at the medical center. Take them over, let them shower off, fix them clean clothes. Issue them some standard Space Affairs suits. I've asked for Doc Larchent to see them. He's under instructions not to ask questions.” She gave a grimace. “Excuse me, all, I've got some weird holes to look at. See you later.”

She turned to make her way down the ramp onto the runway.

Anya hooked a thumb downward. “Out, you guys, follow me. We've an ambulance here and we'll go in by the back way. And Merral,” she said, giving him a crooked grin, “if that is your blood, you ought to be dead and I want you for science. And if it isn't, well, then I want your clothes for science.”

Merral clapped Anya on the back. “Only the ankle blood is mine.”

She looked hard at his clothes, her eyes widening. “I'm glad of that. The rest is the blood of one of these insect-creatures?”

“There wasn't just one creature, Anya. There were many of them. And two different kinds; there was an ape-creature as well.”

She stared wide-eyed at the garments for a moment before looking up at him with a colder, businesslike look. “You have both kinds of blood on you?”

“Oh, yes.” Merral smiled. “I went to some trouble to get good samples for you. The left ankle and trouser leg is from the cockroach thing; the jacket and shirt blood is from an ape-creature. My contribution is the right lower leg and the sock.”

“Excellent.” She shook her head in mock reproof. “But next time, Tree Man, you might remember that a drop is adequate.”

“Enough of the repartee, you guys,” Vero said. “We need to meet together as soon as we have cleaned up. There is a long, long chat we have to have, and some hard decisions to make.”

As Merral and Vero walked unsteadily and stiffly out from under the general survey craft to where the ambulance hovered gently on the strip, they could see a cluster of people looking up and shaking their heads at the underside of the stubby wings. Above them, beams from handheld lights were picking out a cluster of a dozen or so fist-sized holes with blackened edges.

Vero tapped Merral gently on the shoulder and bent his face toward him. “My friend,” he said, and Merral heard the anxiety in his voice, “I ask you to pray for me. I need to make decisions now. They are hard decisions, because a wrong move now could be disastrous. If, on the summit, the weight of the struggle fell on you, it now falls on me. We will meet and discuss after you have been fixed up, but already I have to decide.” He sighed. “It is not easy.”

As he spoke, Merral realized that this was something he had overlooked. Vero was right; action had to be taken, but choosing the right action would be far from easy.

The ambulance whispered through the back of the medical center. There Merral was divested of his clothes, allowed a hasty but wonderful shower, and then taken in a bathrobe to a room where he had a brief medical examination by a doctor and a nurse. His ankle was examined and the wound opened, cleansed thoroughly, and then microsutured. A bruised shoulder was treated, the small burn to the hand covered, and his eardrums examined.

As the doctor gave Merral a third different anti-infection agent, he stared at him with puzzled eyes. “I've been told not to ask questions, Forester D'Avanos, but that is an interesting wound on your foot. I've never seen anything quite like it.”

Their eyes met.

“Yes, it is interesting.”

Realizing that he was not going to learn anything more, the doctor just shrugged. “It should give no more trouble. Call me if it shows any inflammation.”

Aware of the doctor and nurse watching him curiously, Merral headed to an adjoining room where he took a new set of clothing, including a shirt and overalls in the dark blue colors of Space Affairs. Then, feeling more human, he was shown to an empty refectory where he helped himself to fruit juice and sandwiches from a fridge. A few minutes later Vero joined him, and together, with the minimum of conversation, they ate and drank gratefully. As they were finishing, Anya came in, and this time there were embraces all round.

Then, with the gentle night air with its hint of impending summer drifting through the cab, Anya drove them across the runway in a small Space Affairs transport. Merral realized he had conflicting urges within him. His body simply wished to go to bed and sleep off recent events, while in his mind there burned the stronger longing to take action, to warn Farholme and the Assembly.