Infinite Day (90 page)

“I have decided that Below-Space is no place for recuperation,” Abilana said as she finished giving Merral his daily examination. “Good of any sort, whether healing or anything else, doesn't flourish here. But you'll live.” She gestured for him to get up off the couch. “At least until someone tries to kill you again.”

Eventually they reached Hamalal. They went through the by-now familiar procedure of launching a surveillance probe before emerging. The data came back to show five defense vessels guarding the Gate. Betafor was ordered to find out all she could about them.

It took Merral a few moments to recognize what the impossibly long cylinder at the Gate Station was. “An evacuation ship, of course,” he murmured to Laura. “But they can't evacuate everybody.”

“No. Just the most vulnerable. There's a thousand berths on that, but you wouldn't want to travel in it unless it was an emergency.”

“It is.”

“It's being loaded,” Laura added. “I'd guess it will be leaving inside twenty-four hours.”

Merral turned to Vero. “We need to be on that ship.”

Vero looked up from a screen. “I agree. Which of us, by the way?”

“You, me, Jorgio, Anya, Lloyd?”

“Five, then. Everyone else will have to take the
Sacrifice
on the slow Below-Space road to Earth. Another ten to twelve days.”

“Yes. But any ideas how we get beyond here?”

Vero frowned. “It's not going to be easy. The Guards of the Lord seem to be operating here, too. I'll bet they control all the Gates. They don't know we have escaped, but they won't miss us if we turn up.”

“So how are we going to get past them?”

“Leave it to me.”

“Will I approve of what you're going to do?”

“Of course not.”

Twenty minutes later, Merral sat down on the edge of a desk and stared at Vero. “So you can get us on this ship?”

“Yes.” The brown eyes stared at him. “Apologies in advance. We are going to have to be tricky.”

“
Tricky
is not my favorite word, Vero.”

“Do you want to get to Earth tomorrow night or in a fortnight?”

Merral heard himself give a deep sigh of exasperation. “Very well; give me the plan.”

Vero tapped his diary and the screen image showed a gray-haired man in a beige uniform. His sharp, bony face bore a look of authority. “Shipmaster Crehual. He's in charge of the evacuation plans. In practical matters, he outranks the captain. Notice his lapel.”

Merral saw the silver flicker of a pin badge. “One of Delastro's people. That's going to make things harder.”

“No.
Easier
.”

“How so?”

Vero took a deep breath. “Betafor creates a message from the prebendant to him.”

“Good grief.”

“Hear me out. Quite simply, the prebendant will request that the shipmaster find berths for those of us who need to go to Earth. We will be—” Vero looked embarrassed—“members of the Guards ourselves, on a mission for him. A mission whose nature need not concern Shipmaster Crehual. It will be a matter of the greatest urgency that we are safely and anonymously taken to Earth as soon as possible.”

“I see.”

“All being well, the shipmaster will hear his master's voice and allow us on board.”

Merral shook his head. “Vero, you're right. I don't like it at all. Do you remember, once upon a time, how horrified we were when we realized that Anya had been lied to in this way?”

“Yes.”

“But, Vero, look at the trend. First, it's used against us. Then we used it against an enemy, Captain Haqzintal. And now we use the same technique against our own people. I was not top of my class in moral theology, but I think I can easily see a trend.”

“Well, I agree, but this talk of ‘enemies' and ‘our own people' is simplistic. Our own people are now our enemies. Or have you forgotten who marooned us on Lathanthor?”

“Well, I don't like it.”

“Look, Merral, let me reassure you: this man will only fall for this if he has been corrupted by Delastro.”

Shipmaster Crehual did fall for the message, and Merral felt saddened and relieved at the same time. Soon the five of them had packed the smallest of bags and clambered into the Assembly ferry craft in the hold. Their flight path was programmed to allow it to emerge from shallow Below-Space and make an automated docking with the rear section of the evacuation ship.

Laura bade Merral farewell with her habitual smile. “Commander, I really wouldn't mind coming with you. But I'll take this ship there as fast as we can.”

“I'll hope to see you there soon.”

In an instant the smile faded, and she dropped her voice. “And, Commander, remember that Captain Huang-Li was an old friend of mine. I have a bad feeling about what happened to her. Do what you can to get justice.”

The ferry craft emerged into Normal-Space at the rear of the long cylinder of the evacuation ship, where they hoped they would not be easily observed. Other vessels milled around by the great ship, and Merral hoped there was enough activity that the existence of an unreported craft would just be attributed to the chaos of the moment. Sooner or later, someone would realize that Hamalal had gained a shuttle craft, but by then they would be gone. With a series of shudders they attached the ship to a port in the rear docking bay, and Merral sent a message to the shipmaster.

The answer was an acknowledgment and a curt order for them to come aboard.

Shipmaster Crehual was waiting in the corridor for them. “Purity and dedication,” he said with a quiet intensity.

Merral bowed his head. “We, too, serve him in purity and dedication.”
That's not a lie; though the one I serve is not Delastro
.

Wary eyes looked at them with a searching curiosity, and Merral sensed that doubt might not be far beneath. He put his hand on Crehual's arm and bent his mouth to the man's ear. “Shipmaster, this is the most delicate of matters.” He tried the most confiding tone that he could manage. “There are forces at work within the Assembly that seek to destroy it. We must be witnesses. It is vital that we meet with the lord-prebendant as soon as possible. We have weighty tidings. I can't say any more.”

The man seemed to be reassured. “We leave for Kirbal 3 in two hours. Three hours to their Gate Station; from there you should be able to get to Earth within a dozen hours. Flights out are all full, but inbound are almost empty.”

Merral wondered if evacuation of Earth was already under way but decided now was not the time to reveal ignorance. Trying to think of what to say, Merral remembered a fragment from one of the prebendant's sermons. “‘The hour grows dark. Do not fear; for the godly, righteousness will triumph.'”

Crehual gave a grim smile. “‘And the wicked will perish from the worlds.'”

Merral patted him confidently on the arm. “Just so. Thank you, Shipmaster. I will express your worth to the lord-prebendant.”

“Now, follow me. Do you know the design?”

“No.”

“Six long compartments. As many bunk berths as we can fit in each. It will not be a pleasant flight—we are crammed. We could fill another three such vessels.”

The shipmaster led them forward, up a stairway, and through a sliding door. Merral nearly gasped at the sight that greeted him. Stretching far ahead was a cramped and stuffy passageway jammed with people and baggage and echoing with conversation and sobs. On each side of the passageway, five levels of bunks stretched up to the ceiling. Merral was reminded of the refuge at Ynysmant. He had the same sense of the maximum number of people crammed into the smallest possible space—and the same sense of powerlessness and puzzlement.

They were led forward, squeezing past the elderly, the sick, and the mothers with children. Crehual assigned them bunks and then left.

As Merral slipped into the narrow bunk, Vero whispered to him, “Well done, my friend. You should take up acting.”

Merral decided that the only redeeming features of the next few hours were that everything stayed in color, there were no manifestations, and it
was
only a few hours. He lay there on the bunk praying, trying not to feel claustrophobic, fighting the sensation that his insides were being grasped at by invisible forces, and struggling to ignore the cries and moans. Eventually, though, they were through the Gate and decelerating toward the Gate Station at Kirbal 3.

An hour later, an envelope was abruptly thrust into his hand. He looked up to see the shipmaster's intense eyes. “Sorted things out for you. New names. There is no direct flight from here to Earth before tomorrow, but I've arranged that you can go to Nevant 4 and get a direct flight to Sol Gate 4. But be warned: timings are all crazy at the moment. Crazy.”

He leaned closer, his voice barely a whisper. “If you are asked, the watchword for the next two days is
refining fire
.”

Then he was gone.