Infinite Day (29 page)

“I understand your worries, Eliza. Entirely. But let me try to reassure you. The DAS is under the control of the high stewards and is acting within the guidelines set out for them.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. . . . I think so.”

“I hear your hesitation, Eeth. But supposing, one day, that changes?”

“That's an imaginary threat, and I have enough real ones, Eliza. But I am concerned at your warning. If you can get me information that they are overstepping what is right and proper, then let me know.”

“And if you felt they had gone too far, what would you do about it?”

This is not a conversation I want to have.
“I would present the evidence and the stewards, as the governing body of the Assembly, would probably restructure the DAS. Or even close it down.”

Eliza stared into the night. “Eeth, sentinels are obsessed by history. But let me warn you that there were times in the past when intelligence organizations grew so powerful that when it came to a battle with the authorities, it was they that won, not the administration.”

“A salutary warning.”

Eliza turned to him. “I know you are not a historian, but have you ever heard of the Doctrine of the Indispensable Power Void?”

“No. It sounds more like engineering.”

“It is an inelegant phrase. But in a way it is, or was, engineering. Let me quickly tell you about it.”

“Please.”

“When, after the War of the Rebellion, the framework of the renewed Assembly was being laid out, those who drafted it agreed that there ought to be a void of authority within the Assembly. We were the King's people, and as in a physical sense the King was missing, it was felt that the structures should echo this. So the administrative structures were designed, as it were, to orbit around an empty space: the King who rules from heaven.”

“In that form, I am familiar with it. In the Chamber of the Great King, it is implied with Njalstrom's sculpture of symbols: the empty throne and the crown and scepter that await the King.”

“Exactly. You need to meditate on that empty throne, Ethan.”

“Expand.”

“A deliberate void exists at the center of the Assembly power system. There are no kings, empires, or hegemons. Just men and women who chair committees. The Doctrine of the Indispensable Power Void has made it impossible for power to be seized by one man or one organization.” He saw her glance at her watch. “Such a framework has served us well.”

“Indeed. We have had no political crises.”

“But, Eeth, these structures were designed for days of peace and this is now a time of war. What was a virtue in peace may be a vice in war. It is not just nature that abhors a vacuum.” She rose to her feet. “You'd best go now. I shall visit you formally tomorrow and we can talk of health and families. But not this.”

“But any meeting will be in my office,” he protested.

“A very important place. Just the sort of place that a microphone might be placed.”

Ethan felt seized by a sense of outrage. “You are not seriously suggesting . . . !”

Eliza returned a stern smile. “Indeed I am. Now go. And be wary.”

Later that evening, Ethan found himself struggling with his briefing notes for the looming major conference of the military command with the high stewards. It was not going to be an easy meeting. Seymour was a tough negotiator, and Ethan anticipated arguments and bad feelings. By way of taking a break he called Andreas, who was in South America. Seeing him on-screen, he felt the man seemed tired.
But what do I look like?

Hating himself for his caution—or was it subterfuge?—Ethan was careful to let the conversation center on generalities for some time. Then, trying to make it sound as casual as he could, he said, “Oh, one question, Andreas: does anybody in the Custodians of the Faith have any concerns about the DAS?”

He watched Andreas's face for any hint of evasion or unease, but all he saw was a cautious, thoughtful look.

“Given the multiplicity of evils that you—and we—face, they are probably a good thing.”

“And do you know what the DAS is doing about the Counter-Current?”

“Interesting you should say that. I know that two or three of the Counter-Current people who have been making the most noise have been asked to visit the local DA offices and talk to representatives.”

“I wasn't aware of this.”

“Oh, it's all been very discreet. And it's very polite, over coffee and biscuits—a frank discussion of the situation.”

“And what have these meetings achieved?”

“They have demonstrated to these people that they do not operate with unlimited freedom. And that there are forces that will operate to control them.”

“In other words, ‘Shut up or be shut up.'”

A little laugh rang out. “There's your engineering bluntness. But I suppose you could say that.”

“And your own feelings?”

“On the DAS? Yes, I have ethical concerns. But I think you need them. I have been complaining for months about a weakness in administration. The DAS is now addressing that.”

Andreas paused and looked thoughtfully at Ethan. “And that can only be a good thing, can't it?”

11

L
ord-Emperor Nezhuala found that the process of “extending himself”—he had no other term for it—out to Bannermene was utterly draining. In the hours—or was it days?—following his return to the Blade, he lay on his couch and let his body and mind slowly recover. As he did, he tried to assess what he had achieved.

He knew he had done some sort of damage because he had glimpsed the flash as the tug had struck the warship. But his exhaustion had been such that he had been forced to pull back to the safety of the Blade of Night at that point. Nevertheless, he had learned some things. And that was valuable, because his knowledge here was independent of the deceitful and unreliable powers. The most important thing he had discovered was that the Assembly was arming itself. Although the defenses were flimsy and could, no doubt, be easily hurled aside by a single frigate, let alone a full-suppression complex, they were there. Somehow, his foes had learned of his existence.

He pondered the matter. Was the military effort at Bannermene an isolated occurrence? Or was it part of an Assembly-wide military expansion? He needed to know this. He was aware that his commanders were pressing for a delay in launching the fleet. He knew too that some of the higher levels of the priesthood—who could trust
them
?—were conspiring with them to bring delays.

But after what he had seen at Bannermene he had no doubt that he must attack soon
.
After all, if the Assembly was rearming on a large scale, then only a massive first strike, soon, could guarantee him victory. The first wave of ships was due to leave in a dozen days, and he had to be sure that they stood a chance of making a massive, overwhelming impact.

He let out a sigh; as it so often did these days, his head hurt.
I need to find out more for myself. But how?

In a moment of clarity he knew the solution
. I need to travel to Earth itself; I need to see what is happening there. Maybe I can even sit in on the councils of the Assembly
. But Earth was twice as far away as Bannermene. Extending himself that far would require much more energy, and the powers that provided him with energy were miserly.
They will need persuading. But how?
The answer came with a startling, certain swiftness.
They will need blood
.

And where do I get enough of that?
Suddenly he sat up, cackling with amusement.
I know where!

Two days later, Nezhuala, in full black robes and with his staff and crown, sat on the great throne high on the side of the Vault of the Final Emblem. The doors in front of him were closed, yet with his enhanced senses, he could see what was happening beyond. On the circular floor of the vault, a special convocation of the heads of all the priestly orders was beginning.

He knew without counting that all hundred and twenty were there, all in full regalia with vestments of every color and with various symbols of authority. He could even faintly sense the nervousness in their minds and hear the unspoken question as they gazed at the banner bearing the Final Emblem:
Why have we been summoned here?

Nezhuala touched the communications switch. The commander of the access station guard came on screen instantly and greeted him with due deference. Nezhuala brushed aside all his courtesies. “Commander, whatever you see and hear in the next half hour, just ignore it. Your men mustn't intervene.”

“Sir—” there was the very faintest hint of protest—“my only duty is to protect you.”

“Oh, you needn't worry about me, Commander,” Nezhuala snapped and switched off the link.

He then contacted the Blade controller on the floor below and checked that all was ready. He noted the man's pale face.
He is afraid, as well he might be
.

“Be prepared for my word,” he ordered and ended that link too.

He had the doors of the throne room opened so that he appeared before the senior priests. As one, the men rose to their feet and, in all their magnificence, bowed. There was a low, echoing babble of words in ten dozen tongues, all pious praises and blessings to their lord-emperor. Then with a great roar they all chanted, “It is my life's purpose to serve you.”

Do they mean that? And do I need them? The answer is no and no!

Nezhuala, trying to refrain from expressing the contempt he felt, walked outside onto the balcony. The lighting was dim, the vault above seemed to hang low, and the air was heavy.
I feel an approaching menace; do they?

He raised his hand in acknowledgment, and a sudden silence fell. Yet it was not quite a silence. The hanging cylinders were beginning to vibrate at the lowest frequency of audibility.

Nezhuala felt the anger rise within him.
I feel nothing but scorn for these creatures. They mouth loyalty but plot with my commanders to delay the fleet! Perhaps even to replace me!

He stepped down to the rim of the platform that ran around the dome just above the priests' heads. There he paused, glancing up to the hollow cylinders below the awesome curve of the roof. They were resonating more now, a baleful, slow, booming sound.
If any of them knew what it signified, they would be fleeing. But I have locked the doors anyway
.

“Thank you for attending,” Nezhuala said, hearing the false warmth in his voice. “I have something to tell you all. Please come closer.”

They lined up with an edgy shuffling. He saw that the high priest from the order of Dilogenataz stood just below him, his white and red robes edged with human skin.

“You who head the priesthood,” he intoned smoothly, “of whatever order, dedicated to whatever power, let me be brief. Some days ago, at the base of this very structure”—he saw many glance nervously at the ground as they recollected that only a hand's thickness of silica-metal covering separated them from the five-hundred-kilometer drop into the Nether-Realms—“I met with the powers. In fact, I met with the One who is lord of the powers.”