A Deepness in the Sky (76 page)

"And the Kindred are poisoning whatever goodwill there might otherwise be."

"Of course." Pedure was a genius. Assassination, blackmail, clever fearmongering. Whatever was evil, Pedure was very good at. And so now the Southland government figured that it was the Accord that planned to pounce on them in the Dark. "The news networks have it right, Sherk. The Southies might nuke us."

Hrunkner looked beyond Sherkaner's garish displays. From here, he could see Princeton in all directions. Some of the buildings—like Hill House—would be habitable even after the air condensed. They could hold pressure, and had good power connections. Most of the city was just slightly underground. It had taken fifteen years of construction madness to do that for the cities of the Accord, but now an entire civilization could survive, awake, through the Dark. But they were so close to the surface; they would quickly die in any nuclear war. The industries Hrunkner had helped to create had done miracles....So now we're more at risk than ever.More miracles were needed. Hrunkner and millions of others were struggling with those impossible demands. During the last thirty days, Unnerby had averaged only three hours' sleep a day. This detour to chat with Underhill had scuttled one planning meeting and an inspection.Am I here out ofloyalty...or because I hope that Sherk can save us all again?

Underhill steepled his forearms, making a little temple in front of his head. "Have...have you ever thought that maybe something else is responsible for our problems?"

"Damn it, Sherk. Like what?"

Sherkaner steadied himself on his perch, and his words came low and fast. "Like aliens from outer space. They've been here since before the New Sun. You and I saw them in the Dark, Hrunkner. The lights in the sky, remember?"

He rattled on, his tone so unlike the Sherkaner Underhill of years past. The Underhill of old revealed his weird speculations with an arch look or a challenging laugh. But now Underhill spoke in a rush, almost as if someone would stop him...or contradict him? This Underhill spoke like...a desperate man, grasping at fantasy.

The old fellow seemed to realize that he had lost his audience. "You don't believe me, do you, Hrunk."

Hrunkner shrank back on his perch. What resources had already been sunk into this horrifying nonsense? Other worlds—life on other worlds—that was one of Underhill's oldest, craziest ideas. And now it was surfacing after years of justified obscurity. He knew the General; she'd be no more impressed by this than he was. The world was teetering on the edge of an abyss. There was no room to humor poor Sherkaner. Surely the General did not let this distract her. "It's like the videomancy, isn't it, Sherk?"All yourlife, you've made miracles. But now you need them faster and more desperately than ever before. And all you have left is superstition.

"No, no, Hrunk. The videomancy was just a means, a cover so the aliens wouldn't see. Here, I'll show you!" Sherkaner's hands tapped at control holes. The pictures flickered, the color values changing. One landscape morphed from summer to winter. "It'll be a moment. The bit rate is low, but channel setup is a very big computation." Underhill's head tilted toward tiny displays that Hrunkner could not see. His hands tapped impatiently on the console. "More than anyone, you deserved to know about this, Hrunk. You have done so much for us; you could have done so much more if only we'd brought you into it. But the General—"

On the display, the colors were shifting, the landscapes melting into low-resolution chaos. Several seconds passed.

And Sherkaner gave a little cry of surprise and unhappiness.

What was left of the picture was recognizable, if much lower bandwidth than the original video. This appeared to be a standard eight-color video stream. They were looking out a camera in Victory Smith's office at Lands Command. It was a good picture, but crude compared to true vision, or even Sherk's videomancy displays.

But this picture showed something real: General Smith stared back at them from her desk. The work was piled high around her. She waved an aide out of the office, and stared out at Underhill and Unnerby.

"Sherkaner...you brought Hrunkner Unnerby to your office." Her tone was tight and angry.

"Yes, I—"

"I thought we discussed this, Sherkaner. You can play with your toys as much as you please, but you are not to bother people who have real work to do."

Hrunkner had never heard the General use such tones and such sarcasm with Underhill. However necessary it might be, he would have given anything not to witness it.

Underhill seemed about to protest. He twisted on his perch, and his arms flailed, begging. Then: "Yes, dear."

General Smith nodded and waved at Hrunkner. "I'm sorry for this inconvenience, Sergeant. If you need help getting back on schedule..."

"Thank you, ma'am. That may be. I'll check with the airport and get back to you."

"Fine." The image from Lands Command vanished.

Sherkaner lowered his head until it rested on the console. His arms and legs were inward-drawn and still. The guide-bug moved closer, pushed at him questioningly.

Underhill moved toward him. "Sherk?" he said softly. "Are you all right?"

The other was silent for a moment. Then he raised his head. "I'll be okay. I'm sorry, Hrunk."

"I—um, Sherkaner, I've got to go. I have another meeting—" That wasn't quite true. He had already missed both the meeting and the inspection. What was true was that there were so many other things to attend to. With Smith's help he might be able to get out of Princeton fast enough to catch up.

Underhill climbed awkwardly down from his perch and let Mobiy guide him after the sergeant. As the heavy doors slid open, Sherkaner reached out a single forehand, gently tugging on one of his sleeves.More insanity?

"Don't ever give up, Hrunk. There's always a way, just like before; you'll see."

Unnerby nodded, mumbled something apologetic, and eased out of the room. As he walked down the glass-walled hallway toward the elevator, Sherkaner stood with Mobiy at the entrance to the office. Once upon a time, Underhill would have followed all the way down to the main foyer. But he seemed to realize that something had changed between them. As the elevator doors shut behind Unnerby, he saw his old friend give a shy little wave.

Then he was gone, and the elevator was sinking downward. For a moment, Unnerby surrendered to rage and sadness. Funny how the two emotions could mix. He had heard the stories about Sherkaner, and had willed disbelief. Like Sherkaner, he hadwanted certain things to be true and had ignored the contrary symptoms. Unlike Sherk, Hrunkner Unnerby could not ignore the hard truths of their situation. And so this ultimate crisis would have to be won or lost without Sherkaner Underhill... .

Unnerby forced his mind away from Sherkaner. There would come a time later, hopefully a time to remember the good things instead of this afternoon. For now...if he could commandeer a jet out of Princeton, he might be back at Lands Command in time to chat up his deputy directors.

Around the level of the cobblies' old park, the elevator slowed. Unnerby had thought this was Sherkaner's private lift. Who might this be?

The doors slid back—

"Well! Sergeant Unnerby! May I join you?"

A young lady lieutenant, dressed in quartermaster fatigues. Victory Smith as she had been so many years ago. Her aspect had the same brightness, her movement the same graceful precision. For a moment, Unnerby could only boggle at the apparition beyond the doors.

The vision stepped into the elevator, and Unnerby involuntarily moved back, still in shock. Then the other's military bearing slipped for an instant. The lieutenant lowered her head shyly. "Uncle Hrunk, don't you recognize me? It's Viki, all grown up."

Of course. Unnerby gave a weak laugh. "I—I'll never call you Little Victory again."

Viki put a couple of arms affectionately across his shoulders. "No. You're allowed. Somehow, I don't think I'll ever be giving you orders. Daddy said you were coming up today....Have you seen him? Do you have a moment to talk with me?"

The elevator was sliding to a stop, foyer level. "I—Yes, I did....Look, I'm in a bit of rush to get back to Lands Command." After the debacle upstairs, he just didn't know what he could say to Viki.

"That's okay. I'm on minus minutes myself. Let's share the ride to the airport." She waved a grin. "Twice the security."

Lieutenants might manage a security escort, but they are rarely the subject of one. Young Victory's group was about half the number of Unnerby's but, from the look of them, even more competent. Several of the guards were clearly combat veterans. The fellow on the top perch behind the driver was one of the biggest troopers Unnerby had ever seen. When they slid into the car, he'd given Unnerby an odd little salute, not a military thing at all. Huh! That was Brent!

"So. What did Daddy have to say?" The tone was light, but Hrunkner could hear the anxiety. Viki was not quite the perfect, opaque intelligence officer. It might have been a flaw, but then he had known her since she had cobblie eyes.

And that made it all the harder for Unnerby to say the truth. "You must know, Viki. He's not himself anymore. He's all into alien monsters and videomancy. It took the General herself to shut him up."

Young Victory was quiet, but her arms drew into an angry frown. For a moment, he thought she was angry with him. But then he heard her faint mutter, "The old fool." She sighed, and they rode in silence for a few seconds.

Surface traffic was sparse, mainly cobbers traveling between disconnected boroughs. The streetlights splashed pools of blue and ultra, glittered off the frost that lined the gutters and the sides of buildings. Light from within the buildings glowed through the rime, showing greenish where it caught flecks of snow moss in the ice. Crystal worms grew by the millions on the walls, their roots probing endlessly for morsels of heat. Here in Princeton, the natural world might survive almost into the heart of the Dark. The city around and beneath them was a growing, warming thing. Behind those walls, and below the ground, things were busier than ever in the history of Princeton. The newer buildings of the business district glowed from ten thousand windows, boasting power, spilling broad bands of light upon the older structures....And even a modest nuclear attack would kill everyone here.

Viki touched his shoulder. "I'm sorry...about Daddy."

She would know much better than he how far Sherkaner had fallen. "How long has he been into this? I remember him speculating on space monsters, but it was never serious."

She shrugged, obviously unhappy with the question. "...He started playing with videomancy after the kidnappings."

That far back?Then he remembered Sherkaner's desperation when the poor cobber realized that all his science and logic couldn't save his children. And so the seeds of this insanity had been planted. "Okay, Viki. Your mother is right. The important thing is that this nonsense not get in the way. Your father has the love and admiration of so many people"—including me, still."No one will believe this crap, but I'm afraid that more than a few would try to help him, maybe divert resources, do experiments he suggests. We can't afford that, not now."

"Of course." But Viki hesitated an instant, her hand tips straightening. If Unnerby had not known her as a child, he would have missed it. She wasn't telling him everything, and was embarrassed by the deception. Little Victory had been a great fibber, except when she felt guilty about something.

"The General is humoring him, isn't she? Even now?"

"...Look, nothing big. Some bandwidth, some processor time." Processor time on what? Underhill's desktop machines, or Intelligence Service superarrays? Maybe it didn't matter; he realized now how much of Sherk's low profile was simply the General keeping her husband from interfering with critical projects.But pray for the poor lady. For Victory Smith, losing Underhill must be like having your right legs shot off at the hips.

"Okay." Whatever resources Sherk might be pissing away, there was nothing Hrunkner Unnerby could do about it. Maybe the best wisdom was the oldsoldier on, soldier. He glanced at Young Victory's uniform. The name tag was on her far collar, out of sight. Would it be Victory Smith (now,that would catch a superior officer's attention!), or Victory Underhill, or what?

"So, Lieutenant, how is your life in the military?"

Viki smiled, surely relieved to talk about something else. "It is a great challenge, Sergeant." Formality slipped. "Actually, I'm having the time of my life. Basic training was—hmm, well you know as well as I. In fact, it is sergeants like you who make it the ‘charming' experience it is. But I had an edge: When I went through BT, almost all the recruits were in-phase, years older than I am. Heh heh. It wasn't hard to do well by comparison. Now—well, you can see this isn't your average first posting." She waved at the car, and the security around them. "Brent is a senior sergeant now; we're working together. Rhapsa and Little Hrunk will go through officer school eventually, but for now they're both junior enlisted. You may see them at the airport."

"You're all working together?" Unnerby tried to keep the surprise out of his voice.

"Yes. We're a team. When the General wants a quick inspection, and needs absolute trust—we're the four she sends." All the surviving children except Jirlib. For a moment, the revelation just added to Unnerby's depression. He wondered what the General Staff and midrankers thought when they saw a troop of Smith's relatives poking into Deep Secret affairs. But...Hrunkner Unnerby had once been deep in Intelligence himself. Old Strut Greenval had also played by his own rules. The King gave certain prerogatives to the chief of Intelligence. A lot of midlevel Intelligence people thought it was simply stupid tradition, but if Victory Smith thought she needed an Inspector General team from her own family—well maybe she did.

Princeton's airport was in chaos. There were more flights, more corporate charters, more crazy construction work than ever before. Chaotic or not, General Smith was ahead of the problem; a jet had already been diverted for his use. Viki's cars were cleared to drive right out onto the military side of the field. They moved cautiously down designated lanes, under the wings of taxiing aircraft. The secondary paths were torn by construction, a craterlike pit every hundred feet. By the end of the year, all service operations were to be conducted without external exposure. Ultimately, these facilities would have to support new types of fliers, and operations in air-freezing cold.