Infinite Day (76 page)

Despite his preoccupations and being isolated by the surrounding guard, Merral observed his own world as he went about. In the eleven weeks he had been away, there had been many subtle changes. The chief difference was that the once unthinkable matter of defense was now integrated into society. Men and women in uniform aroused no glances, no one stared at signs pointing to “FDF Command Positions” and “Defensive Shelters,” and the rumble of military vehicles seemed to be taken for granted.

Perhaps they may be spared. Perhaps Vero will be right and the thrust of the attack will head straight to Earth.
And the thought that he preferred disaster to strike elsewhere made him feel guilty.

Yet as Merral walked around Isterrane trying to refresh his mind after the draining, stale grayness of Below-Space, the pressures of his position never left him. Indeed, the pending voyage to Bannermene and Earth came to tower above everything as an increasing number of issues were relayed to him from the
Sacrifice
.

There were delays—inevitable in hindsight—with the
Sacrifice,
and in the end it was on the morning of the third day that, with take-off looming, Merral finally went to find Jorgio. It was a misty morning, with the low sun glancing sparks of light off the frosty ground, when Merral was driven up to Ragili's Homestead. He left the four-man guard at the vehicle and walked to the house, where he found the old man feeding cats in his long, thick, black coat.

“Well, Jorgio,” Merral said after they had embraced, “I'm back.”

“You had a tough trip, Mister Merral,” Jorgio said, and his breath hung in the cold air.

“You watched the interview I gave?”

“
Tut
, I knew it before then.” A diagonal smile split the face. “I reckon as I wore out the knees of a pair of trousers praying for you. And finally the Lord said to me, ‘Jorgio Aneld Serter, have no fear; that man will return.'”

“But not all of us did, Jorgio. Some of us were killed, and many of us were hurt.”

“I'm sorry, Mister Merral. About Isabella, especially. But you can't uproot an evil like that without some blood and tears.” Merral made no answer.

“Tea?” Jorgio asked eventually.

“No, my old friend, I have come for you. It's time for your journey.”

Jorgio grimaced and stuffed hands in his coat pockets, and Merral sensed fear in his eyes. “Can't say as I am happy about it. Not at all.” He stared away, his odd eyes seemingly tracing some crows as they flapped across the whitened fields. “But I'll do it. Obedience, Mister Merral—that's the thing.
Obedience
; the King values that.” He shook his head clumsily. “
Tut.
Anyways, I have my bag packed.” He looked at the ground. “Would it be all right if I just walked around and said good-bye to the plants and the horse?”

“Of course. I'll be at the vehicle,” Merral answered.

Merral stood waiting by the four-seater, taking in the view and reveling in being somewhere where the world stretched on and on. Ten minutes later, Jorgio, carrying a large, battered holdall, walked over slowly to him. The old man's face was very solemn.

“I won't be coming back,” he said in a barely audible whisper out of the corner of his twisted mouth. “I have been told that. And more.”

Then he got into the car and, with his face staring ahead in a look of fixed determination, said nothing as they drove to the airport.

Ludovica was at the airport, huddled deep in a long jacket and giving orders. Casting a curious glance at Jorgio, she took Merral aside and handed him a folder.

“What's this?”

“Two things. One is a full account—as accurate as we can make it—of events here over the last year. Images, video clips, statements, sworn transcripts—that sort of thing.”

“That may be very useful. We fear Delastro and Clemant may have distorted many things.”

“You're right to fear that. In fact, the second thing here is a lot of information on the prebendant. His background, his speeches, and a personality analysis. We think he could be a problem. He has determination, boundless belief in himself, and an unshakable view that destiny centers on him.” She shook her head. “You'd do us all a favor by watching that man.”

“He's one of the reasons we need to get to Earth soon. My private hope, Ludovica—I hadn't mentioned this before—is that Luke will challenge Delastro.”

“One cleric against another? Maybe.”

She pulled an envelope from inside her jacket and gave a little shiver. “There's snow on the way, they say. Now, that man . . . in the black coat?”

Merral looked up to see Jorgio staring up at the wings of the shuttle with an expression of mingled awe and dread.

“Is that the mathematician?”

“A mathematician is what he isn't. But what about him?”

“Remember you asked me to ask about those formulae?”

“Those? I'd almost forgotten them!”

“Well, the thing is, I did send them to a mathematician. He passed them on to a colleague. Take a look.”

Merral glanced at the single sheet.

Madam Bortellat,

Thank you for these fragmentary equations passed on to me by Doctor Kazatow. He correctly surmised that they were topological in nature; in other words, they describe the status of boundary surfaces. I should say these equations resemble no part of any known body of work and the notation is oddly nonstandard. The form of expressing such concepts is rather archaic and most closely resembles the manner in which such things were done in the dawn of the Assembly. Even here the likeness is not perfect, and there are some modifications and two symbols that can only be guessed at. Nevertheless, I hazard a guess that these are references to loop quantum gravity and what was once called Hilbert Space. There may also be some Eigen values.

As to what is being described, frankly, I have no idea. Solar boundary surfaces? Atmospheric systems? The nature of the universe itself? I would love to meet the man who wrote them.

Yours truly,

Abraham Martinoval (Professor)

Merral tucked it away in his pocket. “There must be some mistake. This means nothing to me, and I did some math at college. I will ask Jorgio about it. But he's an odd man. In the best sense of the word.”

“There's a lot going on here we don't understand. Incidentally, we loaded one of our ferry craft into your hold. It will make life a little easier in any dealings with Assembly vessels.”

“Hadn't thought of that, but a good idea.”

“I must go,” Ludovica said with a wry but fatigued smile. “I have a world to run. But our prayers go with you. It will be good to see you back. It gets lonely out here.”

Then she was gone.

Merral was in no hurry to board the shuttle and stood by the stairs as the last loads were taken on board. As he did, a four-seater drew up hastily, and Vero tumbled out with his big brown bag. He looked troubled.

“We nearly went without you,” Merral said.

“Sorry, my friend, I have just been to collect something.”

“What have you got?”

“More data. Some missing files from the Library.”

“I should have guessed.”

Vero glanced around and drew Merral aside in a confiding huddle. “I also have a copy of most of what Gerry was working on.”

“Ah that! Tell me about it.”

There was a look of frustration. “It's all heavily encrypted, which is very significant. But the file is entitled
Revenge
. I don't like that.”

“Revenge? Neither do I. Can you break the code?”

“No. I'm hoping either Betafor or the
Sacrifice
's computer can.”

Someone was urging them on board, and Merral gestured his friend forward.

“God willing, Vero, we will be at Earth in just over a fortnight. But increasingly, I am fearful of what we will find there.”

25

O
n the flight up to Near Station, Merral found himself seated next to Anya.

“How was your break?” he asked.

“Good.” Her tone was dull.

“That sounds qualified.”

“Sorry.” She closed her eyes for a moment before speaking. “Merral, even total strangers recognized me. Everyone I met wanted to talk about the things I didn't want to talk about.”

Her sister and the events at Sarata.

She sighed. “So I found another reason for going to Earth.” There was a strained, mirthless smile. “I can't stay here. I need to be somewhere where I can be anonymous.”

“Are you sure you want to come?”

She gave him a look of defiant indignation.

“Yes. There are things I . . . I still have to resolve. We all have battles to fight, Merral.” And with that she turned away to look out the viewport.

It didn't take Merral long to find out that the
Sacrifice
was now a changed ship. There was white paint everywhere—he hoped they hadn't covered over some vital switch—and he saw many new, eager faces around. When he arrived on the bridge he found the lower weapons section packed with an excited and noisy throng of men and women consulting databoards, peering at screens, and comparing readouts.

“Welcome back, Commander,” said a cheerful voice.

Merral turned to see Laura, and they exchanged greetings. Merral pointed to the weapons section. “Are you happy with all this?”

“Helga and I are worried they are going to fire something by mistake,” she said, but the lightness in her tone suggested her fears were few.

“Better not. We have the people we need?”

“Yes. We'll need to run the training programs and simulations continuously.”

“Can we be brought up to speed as a fighting ship?”

“Helga reckons so. And I'd agree. Dominion vessels are designed to be used by poorly trained crews. We have brought our best people on board. With training, they should be able to do a good job.”

“But we have to remember that the Dominion may be sending ships run by elite crews.”

The smile slipped away. “Men like Lezaroth.”

“Exactly.”

Merral turned to see Abilana. “How's the sick bay?”

“We have a new aid to recovery; it'll get the sickest out and back on duty in minutes.”

“What's that?”

“The smell of paint.”