The Shadow and Night (84 page)

Merral slid forward the images on the table and, for the third time in the day, began to talk about what he had discovered. As he spoke and displayed other images, he sensed the total attention of Corradon and Clemant. But as he continued, he was increasingly aware of their disappointment.

Eventually, Corradon turned to Perena. “Captain Lewitz, what do you make of this? I confess I was rather hoping for something more obviously a spacecraft than these rather abstract shapes and lines.”

“I agree,” said Clemant, his expression leaving no doubt that he too was unimpressed.

Perena stared at the image before answering. “Yes, sir,” she said in a voice that, while firm, was barely audible, “I think that this is the ship.”

Clemant looked sharply at her. “Captain, we need to be sure. If we go for the wrong location it could be disastrous. I see little hope of a second chance.”

“I know, sir. But the data fits. The combination of anomalies is consistent with a craft comparable in size and mass to one of our in-system shuttles.”

“Yet, Captain,” Clemant said, with a creasing of his forehead, “I thought you had proposed that this vessel goes between stars?”

Perena looked at the advisor carefully. “Sir, there is, as you know, data for that hypothesis. I agree this ship seems smaller than I would have predicted. But we have no idea how a mobile Gate system might look, and this ship might be big enough. It's certainly large enough to carry a ferry craft.”

“We are on the point of mounting a risky venture based on scanty data,” the advisor said.

Corradon shrugged. “Lucian, we have been through all this. Is this an objection?”

“Sir, it is not an objection. But it is a statement of disquiet.”

Corradon said nothing and shifted his gaze to the images. He gestured at the sheets. “Captain Lewitz, Sentinel, can't we get more detailed images?”

Vero scratched his nose. “I-I agree, sir, that they would be nice. But that too is risky; we might alert them.”

Perena nodded assent. “Yes, I agree. It might frighten them. And if they were to take off, we might never find them again.” She looked around with her keen blue-gray eyes. “There is something else I want to say here. I'm struck by the way that the disguise has been done. After examining all the images, especially comparing the ones taken before and after the landing, I think that all they have done is put a simple metal-frame structure up and drape a polymer fabric cover with reactive paint over it.”

“So how else would you do it?” asked Clemant.

“Well, camouflage is not a specialty of the Assembly, but I would imagine that if you had a sufficiently advanced technology you could produce a holographic field or create some deformation of the light around the ship to give it invisibility. This looks far simpler. Even crude. But then—” She hesitated and seemed to be having a debate with herself. When she spoke again, her voice was so quiet that Merral had to strain to hear her. “Yet it doesn't use any energy and it doesn't emit any stray radiation. So it has merits. Indeed, it may not even be that crude, ultimately.”

Corradon, who had been gazing at the wall map, turned to Vero. “So, Sentinel, the plan you had suggested to approach the ship . . . now that we have found it, will it work?”

“Yes,” Vero answered. “I should say I have not yet discussed it with Merral. But, yes.” He gestured to the images on the table. “It needs detailed planning, but I believe it could succeed.”

Corradon looked at his advisor. “Lucian?”

Clemant shifted in his seat. “Sir, the decision is a hard one. We are faced with hard choices. . . .”

“Tell me what I don't know!” Corradon said. He was smiling but his voice was empty of humor.

Clemant stared at his hands for a moment and then looked at the representative. “Sir, my decision is that we go with the sentinel's plan.”

Corradon closed his eyes for a moment, as if overwhelmed. Then, his face the picture of steady control, he looked around the table. “Thank you. If the rest of you will excuse us—Lucian and I would like to talk with Merral here alone. I realize that this is somewhat unusual. But these are unusual days.”

As the door closed and Merral found himself alone with Corradon and Clemant, he felt troubled.

Corradon stared at him with a look of intense scrutiny. “Very well, Forester D'Avanos, the situation is this: I am—no, we as representatives are—convinced by the analysis of the path of the intruder ship that it is indeed possible that it has some sort of independent Below-Space capability. If it has, we need that technology and we need it badly. There are a number of scenarios for the future we are concerned about.”

“More than concerned,” grunted the advisor, in a response so rapid that it was almost an interruption. “Each day brings new evidence of problems.”

“So, you see, we
have
to approach the intruders.” Corradon's tone was confiding. “We will send a negotiating party.”

“Remember, Forester, our preference—on every ground—is for dialogue.” There was no possibility of mistaking the seriousness in the advisor's voice.

“Agreed,” Corradon said. “The negotiating party will approach openly and without weapons. With nothing that could remotely arouse any suspicions. They will approach slowly—with banners, flags—that sort of thing.” Clemant nodded as Corradon continued. “Now, hopefully, they will want to talk. But if they don't . . . if there is—what shall we say?—a negative response, then, well, we will have no option but to try and seize the ship.”

“You mean, sir,
attack
it?”

There was a pause. “Yes, Forester. Attack it with the intention of taking it in working order. But
only
after diplomacy—if I may use an old word—has failed.”

Before Corradon could continue, Clemant had spoken. “We must not underestimate the risks. We do not know what weapons they have.”

Corradon waved a hand with a hint of impatience. “Absolutely. And that is why we agree with Vero's suggestion that we need to be in a position where, if diplomacy fails, we can move to a capture strategy instantly. Surprise may be one of the few weapons we have. We can't squander it by summoning a council of the representatives.”

Clemant gave a slight and unenthusiastic nod.

“Exactly,” Corradon said. “Vero wants to have a second group standing by so that, if negotiation fails, they can disable this ship and prevent it from taking off. And achieve a seizure.”

“That raises a lot of issues. . . .” Merral spoke slowly, his mind struggling to cope with ideas of attack and seizure.

“Oh, indeed,” Corradon replied, and Merral marveled at how assured he appeared to be. “But we've read twenty-first century law—of course, the matter has not been discussed since—and that suggests that we have a legitimate right to ask for their surrender as they are on our sovereign territory.”

“I see, but respectfully, sir, there are practical issues too.”

“Oh, we know that. Vero has been working on a plan for the last few weeks. But this is where you come in.”

“I see.”
Of course,
Merral thought, recognizing with alarm something that had been hinted at all along.

“Yes,” said Corradon. His blue eyes seemed weary. “We want
you
to carry it out. To lead. That is the big gap. We have the decision, we have the equipment, to some extent we have the personnel; we even have the inklings of a strategy. But we need a leader to bring these things together.”

Merral swallowed, his mouth suddenly and unaccountably dry. “Me?”

“You. Yes, there was a unanimous feeling among the representatives that, in this respect, you are marked out as the man of the hour. That we should appoint you as captain of the FDU.”

“I am less sure, sir,” Merral replied, oddly aware of his heart beating heavily. “And surely my opinion counts?”

“Well, only to a limited extent,” Corradon countered.

“To be blunt,” Clemant added sharply, “there are precious few contenders. And we can't risk the luxury of an experiment.”

Merral suddenly felt an irresistible urge to stand up. He rose, walked to a corner of the room, then turned and faced the two men.

“Gentlemen, I am not at all positive about this. In fact, I'm very skeptical.”

“Forester, there is no one else suitable to lead.”

“What about Vero?” Merral gestured at the room. “He has put together an organization in very short time. Remarkable.”

Corradon shook his head. “No, not Vero. Not at all. He is a strategist, and I agree a remarkable one, but he is not a leader in battle. It is not his gifting. You and he complement each other.”

“Our sentinel is also from outside,” said Clemant. He seemed, to Merral, to be ill at ease. “And you, of course, have fought already.”

Suddenly, Merral felt a great desire to just say nothing and walk outside, to get out of this room and its claustrophobic, subterranean atmosphere and see the sun. He struggled against his desires.

“That is why I am so reluctant. I will not readily go back to fighting again. Nor would I wish it on others.”

As he said it, he wondered if his answer was so frank as to sound disrespectful. Should he try and justify it by talking of the horror he had felt at the fighting? But he felt inadequate to express what he had experienced, and anyway there seemed little point. Their minds were plainly made up.

Corradon's look seemed sympathetic. “Oh, I know, Forester. But we
must
deal with these intruders, whoever they are. If we do, we must prepare for the possibility that we have to attack them, and as Vero has repeatedly pointed out to us, we cannot go halfheartedly into such a matter. We have only one chance, one possibility of surprise. Any attack must be done as efficiently as we possibly can.”

“I want to confirm that,” said Clemant, looking at Merral with his dark gray eyes. “We may have a single chance. A window of opportunity, perhaps only a few minutes.”

There were long seconds of silence. “I see that,” Merral answered. “But you must realize that any action like this would carry with it a certainty of death and injury on our side. We had an almost miraculous escape last time. If I was to lead it, I would feel responsible for what happened.”

Corradon looked up at him solemnly. “Yes, but if I authorized it, Forester—if I asked you to do it—why then,
I
would take responsibility.”

The silence returned. Eventually Corradon broke it. “But you see, Merral, we have a responsibility whether we like it or not. If we attack, we take risks. If we don't attack we also take risks. I bitterly wish it was not my decision. But what can we do?”

Clemant gave a nod of grudging agreement.

How had this happened? Merral asked himself. How had it come about that he was being asked to lead a battle?

He suddenly knew, with unarguable certainty, that he could not agree there and then.

“Representative Corradon, Advisor Clemant,” he said, “I have to think this through. It is without precedent. Yes, I fought before, but it was defensive. I had no choice. This is different. Now we are planning an attack. And . . .”

For a moment, Merral closed his eyes, trying to think of the words; then he opened them and spoke slowly. “There is another factor. The great achievement of the Assembly has been peace. With this we would end that.”

“I know,” Corradon said, sounding distressed. “But we need a decision. I need you to lead these people.”

“I agree,” Clemant said. “This is a perilous venture. Your presence increases the chance of success. Your absence . . . ” He shrugged.

Suddenly, Merral knew what to say. “My decision is this: I need to think more about it.”

Corradon and Clemant exchanged unhappy glances.

“Very well,” Corradon said, shaking his head, “but Vero has suggested we act within a week. In fact, he is working to have the contact at dawn a week from tomorrow.”

“So soon? We have no more time?”

“No longer than that. We simply cannot afford to have the ship leave, and neither can we risk it heading into Assembly space spreading contamination. Midsummer approaches when the crater will never be in darkness; now, at least, we have some darkness to approach in.”

“But only a week? Can it be done?”

Corradon did not immediately answer but rubbed his face between his hands as if weary. Then he looked at Merral, his face showing concern. “Done? I would be lying if I said I had any assurance over the matter. But it has to be attempted. And that is why we need you. Even if we knew what to test for, we do not have the time to test men or women to lead in battle. You are the one man who we know can lead.”

“Perhaps.”

“No.
” Corradon's tone was blunt. “Merral, if you do not take this, we appoint someone else. But for all we know, when they are faced by these things, they may run. Only two men have fought for the Assembly in eleven thousand years. You are one; Vero is the other. He is eliminated. The equation is simple.”

“Sir, I appreciate that,” Merral answered, feeling under an intolerable pressure. “But surely we believe that a man must volunteer for such a position?”

A long, pained sigh came from the representative. “Yes. I cannot order you. We are Assembly still. The Assembly does not force.” He looked intently at Merral. “But I can plead,” he said, “and I do. But please talk to Vero about the plans. Perhaps advise him. Then let me know before, say, the evening of the day after tomorrow, what you choose to do. On the eve of the Lord's Day. If you will not lead, then we will find someone else. But I would prefer you.”

“And I agree,” Clemant said.

He and Corradon rose.

“We must return to Isterrane,” the representative said. “I wish you peace with your decision. We will pray for you.”