The Shadow and Night (51 page)

“I did a rough check. The two smaller figures are within the range for human beings. The three others are something else.”

“Ape-creatures?”

“So one presumes.”

Vero looked up at Perena. “You think they are evacuating what is left of their forces?”

She nodded. “Feasible.”

“And we have no idea where they have gone? where the mother ship is?”

“None. It's a big place up there, Sentinel. What? A million square kilometers?”

“Could you find it the same way?”

Perena shrugged. “It depends on how big the ship is and whether it is hidden. Remember playing hide-and-seek as children? If they don't want to be found, then it could be hard.”

“This showed up fairly easily,” Vero said, nodding at the image.

“This was probably an emergency mission.” Perena's tone was terse. “And the area we were searching was vastly smaller.”

Merral looked at Vero. “Well, that is a task for the Defense Force. But your turn, Sentinel. You'd better tell everybody what we learned from Brenito.”

Vero started to summarize the conversation they had had with Brenito. When he came to Brenito's references to Below-Space exploration, he stopped and looked at Perena. “Can you help here? He thought you could.”

Perena stared at her fingertips for moment before answering. “It is a part of space-flight history that I know little about, and I have never heard of Jannafy's name in connection with Below-Space exploration. But then, I wouldn't read too much into that. What do I know?” She hesitated before answering, apparently choosing her words. “The story is something like this: As soon as Gate technology was devised in 2068 there were efforts to use a single Gate as a portal to Below-Space. It was attractive. Building Gates gave us access through Below-Space, but to be able to fly within it would open the universe to us. Spatial physics theory suggested that enormous distances could be traveled very easily, giving speeds that were effectively ten or twenty times that of light. And the deeper you went into Below-Space, the faster you went.”

Perena paused again, and as she did, Merral felt struck by the quiet, cool, and unflustered way she dealt with things. She continued. “At first, remote probes were sent, but very few returned. They confirmed the theory that the vast distances and vast speeds were possible, but there were problems. Navigation was hard. Anyway, in the last quarter of the twenty-first century there were—I think—twenty human missions, with two- to five-person ships. They were all failures. Most never returned. Two came back with dead crews, and finally, one ship returned with a living crew. But they were in a poor state and died shortly afterward. The ship was called the
Argo.
I know that because there is a tradition—which still exists—that no ship is ever to be called by that name again.” Her face had acquired a troubled look. “Which is odd, really, because we have lost other ships. Anyway, after that, there was a decision to abandon the research. Then there was the Rebellion, and ever since we have been content to travel through Gates. After all, once they are set up they work very well.”

She looked at Vero. “I was quite unaware that Jannafy wanted such research continued. I had assumed the Rebellion was over generalities, not specifics.” She frowned. “But it fits with the man: rebellious, bold, and—as events showed—someone who could be reckless with human life. I would be interested to research that data. Mind you, much of the material may have been lost in the Rebellion. The Experimental and Projects Unit on Mars was devastated.”

“I will make inquiries too,” Vero added. “And it may only be of passing relevance. But the thing that Brenito told us that I feel is of real relevance was about Jannafy and ‘The Alternative Proposal.' ”

As Vero repeated what Brenito had said, Merral watched Anya and saw that as the details were recounted, her eyes widened with evident shock. The way she kept looking at the packages she had placed on the table earlier suggested that she had made the same connections as he and Vero had.

When Vero had finished, he looked at her. “So, Doctor Lewitz, comments? Please.”

Anya stared blankly back at him. “I'm appalled . . . stunned. I find it hard to imagine how someone actually proposed making the very things that I—no—we have been so horrified about. But. . . . No, the time gap is too great. Even if we allow that Jannafy didn't just propose but
did
make these things—perhaps in the Centauri Lab—all those thousands of years ago . . . could . . . ?” She frowned. “No, the Rebellion was brought to an end.”

Vero spoke in a low but audible voice. “Yes, history says that nothing survived. Jannafy and his followers were killed. Their labs were vaporized in the biggest artificial explosion ever created.”

Anya nodded agreement. “No, for these things to have survived and got out here is too much. It must be coincidence. Mustn't it?”

But her questioning glance received no confirming response, and finally Merral, after looking at the clock, broke the silence. “Our time has gone. We'd better get over to the terminal to check in. Thankfully we can soon pass the burden of all this to Earth. But it has been helpful to discuss these things here. Vero, would you summarize what you think is happening?”

Vero stared ahead. “For me the strands of evidence suggest that something survived from the rebels. Whether some of Jannafy's followers, his teachings, or even—just possibly—something of what he created. But where, when, and how will, I think, be much debated over the next few weeks.” He sighed. “As will be the still harder question of what is to be done.”

Merral rose. “And that, I suspect, ends the Farholme deliberations on these matters.”

“Indeed,” Vero said with a nod as he rose. “Well, Forester, it's time for us to travel.”

18

W
hile the sisters went inside the terminal to try and ensure that formal embarkation procedures could be avoided, Merral and Vero found seats some distance from the building. Merral stared into the night. Away to his left was the main part of Isterrane City, where only a few lights remained in this first hour of the Lord's Day. Ahead, within the space terminal itself, there were lights and movement as families gathered for the imminent departure for the Gate. And to the right, spotlights picked out the curving fuselage and wings of the shuttle lined up on the runway.

“Two in the morning is an awkward time for a flight,” Merral commented, as a wisp of vapor from the ramjets drifted upward and caught the light.

“I know, but to minimize the time people spend floating around at a Gate Station waiting for connections, someone has to start at a bad hour. And being the end of the line, it's Farholme. Anyway, today it suits us perfectly. We will be out of the system by midday.”

Vero stopped, sniffing the night air. “I wonder,” he said, “whether I will come back. I suppose they may just say, ‘Thanks, Sentinel Enand, but we'll handle it from here.' ”

“Do you want to come back?” Merral asked, looking at the lights of Isterrane and thinking with a sudden pang of emotion of his own town and his family.

“I've grown to be quite fond of Farholme; Worlds' End isn't that bad a place. And I have grown fond of the people; particularly you, Anya, and Perena.” Vero paused, and Merral read much into his momentary silence. “But I need to go back. Above all, my task is not quite finished; I have to be sure that all this is sorted out. Then I will think of my future. I need to see my father.”

Suddenly, Merral found his longing for his family more than he could bear. “Vero,” he blurted out, “I need to leave a message with my parents. And Isabella. May I?”

Vero hesitated. “It will be just after one in Ynysmant. So they will all be asleep. Oh, I guess so. Just leave a message: say you are going on a private trip, that you are going to be out of touch. Whatever words you can find. But remember that your call may be monitored.”

That alone,
Merral thought wearily,
is cause for concern. Is privacy the first victim of these events? Until this is resolved, will anyone ever again have the confidence that his or her conversations are their personal and private affair?
He suspected from her earlier outrage that Anya would have agreed.

A new thought struck him. “What about giving them a contact? In case they need me.”

“Ah. Oh, tell them to get in touch with Anya. She can pass it on. In two days she can give your address on Earth. Diaries are switched off on shuttles and liners anyway.”

Merral found the mental image of his mother hearing that her youngest child—her only son—had gone halfway across the Assembly without telling her, almost overwhelming. That would raise a few eyebrows permanently. Few, if any, people in Ynysmant had been to Ancient Earth, and no one he had ever heard of had gone at a day's notice.

Merral found himself staring into the darkness as yet another new thought struck him. “But when am I coming back?” he asked, all too aware of the consternation in his voice.

“Back?” He saw Vero shrug his shoulders. “If they move quickly, you could be back in days with the Defense Force ships. They don't bother with waiting at Gate Stations. Just in one Gate and out the next. You could do Earth to Farholme in twenty-four hours. You'll feel lousy. But it can be done.”

So I could be back in a week,
Merral thought and wondered if he would see anything of Ancient Earth other than offices. He walked a few meters away from the seat, called his mother's diary, and was told—inevitably—that she was asleep.

“Hi, Mother and Father,” he dictated. “Vero and I just got back safely from the north. But I have some urgent work to do. I will be out of touch for a few days. You can reach me through Anya Salema Lewitz at the Planetary Ecology Center. Love to you and the rest of the family. Merral.”

When, however, a minute later he called Isabella, he was surprised to find that she answered in person. “Oh, er, hi, it's Merral,” he spluttered. “I thought—”

“Merral! Where are you? I've been getting worried.” Her smooth voice radiated concern, and the message he had prepared
—
similar to that sent to his mother—evaporated from his mind.

“Why, Isabella, I thought you'd be asleep. It's after one o'clock with you.”

“Yes,” came the answer. “I was just about to switch the diary off. I've been lying awake. Why don't you switch to visual? I'm decent.”

Hearing her voice with its inviting, affectionate tone, Merral felt a desire to confide in her. He wanted to tell her the awful truth about the north and the awesome news that he was on his way to Ancient Earth. But he couldn't.
After all,
he told himself unhappily,
even now they might be listening in.

“I'm under starlight. It's not worth it,” he answered.
Just as well really,
he thought, remembering that he was wearing a uniform that was not his.

“Fine, Merral. We stay on audio then. But I have tons of questions,
tons.
” She paused. “I mean, the screen says you are in Isterrane. But how did you get there from Herrandown?”

“Ah. We had a lift from a general survey craft.”

“My! That's a very odd way to travel. But it went well? What did you find out?”

With something of a shock Merral understood that the perception that he valued in Isabella was now turned against him.

“Well . . .” He paused, aware in the gloom that Vero was stirring, as if he had just realized that this was a live conversation. “Well, we have a lot of data. But it would be premature to say anything. I hope to be able to sort everything out soon.”

“So, no beetle-men?” The tone was curious.

Merral hesitated. “That would be telling. But I can't talk too long. Look, I have to go away for a week or so. Work.” He felt the word sounded unconvincing.

“Without coming back to Ynysmant?” She sounded shocked, even affronted. “But where? Faraketha or Umbaga?”

“No. But I can't say.”

“You can't say! And you're calling me now. Truly strange. So, can I call you when you get there?”

“Er, you can try. You can get me through Anya Salema Lewitz at the Planetary Ecology Center in Isterrane.”

“So this Anya Lewitz knows?” There was a hint of misgiving in her voice.

Merral could see Vero coming over to him.

“Yes, that's the way it is. Look, I have to go. Sorry.”

There was a pause before Isabella answered, a pause only the merest fraction of a second long.

“Apologies accepted,” she said, in a cool way. “Have a good trip. I mean, are you traveling a long time? More than a day?”

Merral was aware that Vero was waving his hand disapprovingly at him. He reached for the Terminate tab.

“Sorry. Can't say. Call Anya in forty-eight hours. Bye!”