Infinite Day (11 page)

D
etails of the extraordinary incident at Bannermene made their way at a commendable pace to Earth, where, with an equally admirable speed, their significance was recognized by the newly appointed head of the Assembly Defense Force, Commander Marcello Seymour. He soon called Ethan Malunal, chairman of the Council of High Stewards, aboard the freshwater survey vessel
Great Lakes Challenger
, moored in Lake Michigan, offshore Old Chicago.

It was just before dawn when Ethan got the message. He soon assimilated Seymour's brief report, and as the rising sun was striking golden fire off the ancient skyscrapers, he contacted Eliza Majweske, the president of the Sentinel Council. He was relieved to find she was staying barely a thousand kilometers away, just south of the Baltimore Decontam Zone. Without revealing any details, he was able to impress on her that matters were so urgent that they needed to meet.

Two hours later, as Ethan sat at a table at the stern of the ship trying to concentrate on his speech for the meeting that afternoon, he found himself looking again at the blue waters of the lake. At its edge, the gleaming towers of the ancient cityscape stabbed up skyward like a cluster of knife blades.

It would soon be hot.
But
this is September; how long before autumn comes?
At the thought of the season's turning he felt a strange, melancholy thrill.
Is the long summer of the Assembly ending? Is our winter coming?

His eye was caught by the fine tracery of scaffolding that could just be made out around one of the tallest towers, and he spent some moments staring at the structures. In a flash of insight he realized that he admired that skyline.
But
I don't love it.
I'm not even sure I like it.
And I have to decide what to do about it.

Just then he heard a noise and the tiny hoverer came into view. It performed a slow, dropping spiral and then, switching to wingtip thrusters, descended vertically. With a dancing sidestep, it settled exactly on the center of the landing pad.

A door opened in the side and a well-built, dark-skinned woman slipped out, tugged a small case free, and shading her eyes, waved a hand in recognition.

She embraced Ethan as the jet whistled back upward. “Eeth, good to see you.”

“And, Eliza, so good of you to come.”

“I was barely ninety minutes away. From your tone I figured you needed me.”

She stood back and looked at him in a careful, scrutinizing way.
They all do that now,
Ethan realized.
“How's he bearing up?” That's what they ask. Would it be different if Anna were still alive? They would assume that I have a wife to look after me.

“Oh, Eliza, I do need you,” he said and heard a plaintive tone that he had not intended.

“You okay, Eeth?”

What do I say? That I am an old, lonely, troubled widower with failing health and burdens that, at times, I feel too great for any man to bear? She knows all that.

“Eliza,” he replied in a low voice that he judged too quiet to reach the nearby guards, “I'm holding on to the Lord's promises. Hanging on by faith.”

“We all are.”

“Wait till you read the report I received this morning.” Ethan gestured her down the ship. “There's a place at the rear—no, the
stern
; I'm no sailor. We can talk there.”

As they walked together down the deck, he turned to her. “Eliza, I also want us to talk to Andreas. I know our last meeting wasn't a success, but I need to know what the Custodians of the Faith are thinking. He is in Nairobi at the moment—they are still setting up the secure link in a cabin here. I have sent a report to him but I want to talk face-to-face.”

“Have you been in touch with him recently?”

“Briefly. I tried to heal the rift but with only limited success. He feels very strongly about the way forward.”

“Inevitably. Those who prize the Assembly highly will fight hard.”

They weaved their way around a derrick from which a small spherical craft with a baffling array of protruding tubes and aerials dangled.

Eliza threw him a glance. “Eeth, what are you doing here?”

“Fighting a battle,” he grunted. “I'll tell you all about it later. And you can tell me what you are doing near a heap of old ruins.” They had rounded the end of the block of cabins, and Ethan gestured to where two chairs and a table had been placed under an awning.

As Eliza sat down, Ethan slipped her his diary. “Take this. It's the updated version of the report Seymour sent me from Admiral Ignatov at Bannermene. I need to know what it means and what to do with it.
Fast.
Now, what can I get you to drink?”

“A juice, Eeth. Apple, orange; doesn't matter. I have a feeling I'm not even going to notice what I'm drinking.”

“Probably not.”

Ethan went inside to the mess room, helped himself to juices, and walked back. He took his time and then returned to the table and, almost apologetically, put the tray down beside Eliza.

She lifted her head and shook back her black and silver hair.

“Eeth, know my first reaction?”

“No.”

The smile broadened into an arc of perfect teeth. “It's to laugh.”

“Twenty fatalities; thirty-two injured; rumors that the dead are appearing! You want to
laugh
?”

“Exactly.” She gave a chuckle. “And don't forget both my sons serve in defense vessels.”

“Go on.” He sat down facing her.

“Assuming the tale is correct—” she gestured to the diary—“it's so . . .
pathetic
. A bit of psychic puppetry; some poltergeist activity. Oh, scary, no doubt. Especially without warning. But is that
all
the enemy can manage?” She looked hard at him. “Now, imagine a bolt from the blue wiping out the
Hills
of Lanuane
.
That
would have me worried. Not this.”

She slid the diary across the table to Ethan, who slipped it back onto his belt.

“You have a point. Good. I needed that perspective. But, Eliza, we could do without it. The
Hills of Lanuane
is badly damaged. There were twenty such defense vessels; now there are just nineteen. And the picket line project is vastly delayed.”

“No doubt. But look on the positive side. I am a sentinel and we have some training in strategy. Now we must be wary that it's not a double bluff, but we now know a lot more than we did. We know there is an enemy, that he—excuse my sexism here—
he
dabbles in the occult and that he is planning on coming past Bannermene in Below-Space.”

“That may be some compensation for the losses.”

“We also know he can't do his job properly.”

“Because the
Hills of Lanuane
survived?”

“Yes. And because we know how it was done.”

“I shall be interested in what Andreas has to say.”

Eliza pointed a dark finger at his diary. “It is an extraordinary account. And barely twenty-four hours old. How is the engineer?”

“George? He'll live. Vacuum damage to the lungs, but getting inside the engineer's compartment and slamming the door behind him saved his life. He is the only survivor of the tug.”

“But really, we mustn't let it terrify us.” She gazed at the towers and slabs of the ancient cityscape. “So what do you think happened?”

“As the initial report suggests, something more than mere psychology. A genuine hull noise was recorded. The onboard camera evidence catches the reflection of something pale crossing the porthole of the hatch. As you suspected, some sort of psychic or demonic manifestation. You read that the engineer, George, says he felt it was ‘Death in person' appearing.”

“
Death
,” she pronounced, and the word seemed to hang in the air. “We have never feared death. Disliked it, regretted it, maybe. But maybe that is all changing. . . .” Her words trailed off into silence.

“Eliza,” he said a moment later, “what troubles me is that it was precisely targeted and timed. A few minutes before, or later, and no damage would have been done.”

“Yes, now
that
is scary.”

“I recognize that our enemy had knowledge.”

“And malice. But also incompetence. Let's not forget that.”

Ethan heard a slight cough. He turned to see a young man with a bag standing at a respectful distance.

“Excuse me. Eliza, I'm due an injection. Come on over, Hanif.”

“Sir,” the voice was a respectful murmur.

“Oh, Hanif, it's
Ethan
,” he protested as he extended a hand, palm down.

With a murmured apology, the young man tapped the back of the hand with a gleaming injector pen. There was the faintest whish and a tiny sting, and the young man stood back. “Thank you, sir—
Ethan
.” Then with something that was almost a bow, he left.

“So deferential,” Eliza observed.

“Hanif is new. Some people seem to like deference. I think it gives them reassurance. I think some would prefer that I become king.”

“Many a true word spoken in jest. But tell me, how are you?”

“They are still doing tests.” Ethan gave a shrug. “But I've got degeneration of some cardiac muscles.”

“I'm sorry. So they are growing a new heart for you?”

Ethan looked away and sipped on his juice. Eliza reached out a hand and touched his fingers. “Eeth, they are, aren't they?”

“The organs labs are very busy now, generating nonspecific tissues, skin strips, and lungs. In preparation.”

“For battle.” Eliza bore a sad look and he felt that her face had aged. “So I heard. It's the lungs that go first in space warfare. But they could still have made you a tailored heart.”

“It was offered me. But it drains more resources. I didn't feel I could do that. You have to set an example. And I can't afford the time off, anyway.”

“So you're risking your life in this job.” Her face was stern.

“As are your sons, who have joined Assembly Defense Force. As, probably, are you. Anyway it may be all over, one way or another, by the time I get to a critical stage.”

The muscles in her face tightened and she said nothing.

“One side effect, I should warn you, is that my traveling is soon likely to be reduced. Staying in Jerusalem will make life easier for my doctors. And there is so much to do that traveling is a bit of a luxury.”
My world is closing in on me.

She looked at him. “Makes sense. And so, Eeth, what are you doing here?”

“There is a meeting that starts later today—” he nodded at the city skyline—“about the future of these ancient cities. Feelings are running rather high.”

“Aah, the ancient skyscraper debate?”

“Yes. The most costly structures to maintain on this, or any, planet. To think we have kept some of them up for over eleven and a half thousand years! What would their builders say? But now . . .”

“But now we need all the resources we have,” she completed the sentence. “And this is where the ax has got to fall?”

Ethan breathed out heavily. “The preferred phrase is
managed decay
. But yes.”

“Sad. Never liked those things myself. Too proud.”

“As an engineer I marveled at the audacity of those early architects. I believe the Assembly to have been wise in shunning such heights. But they are our history, and it's acquiring the dimensions of a test case. The Department of Supply is battling over them and has asked me to intervene.” He heard himself sigh. “Eliza, the problem is it's all getting linked in with the new nationalism. We're hearing terms we haven't heard for millennia: the North American Alliance, the European Federation, the West African League. And they are saying these are
our
buildings,
our
cities,
our
heritage;
we
need them preserved. And there is an unhealthy interest in the historics, too. ‘Communal isn't
our
language,' someone said to me the other day.”

Eliza frowned. “Something like this is happening in the sentinels. Splits are opening up on cultural and all sorts of other grounds.”

“You know there used to be a national boundary going through these lakes?”

She shook her head.

“I half expect it to come back. And it's not just on Earth, Eliza. There are complaints that, by curtailing the seeding projects, the Made Worlds are being asked to contribute more for defense than we are. And that they suffer more from the curtailing of civilian flights. And more protests. I hate it all.”

Eliza's look was sympathetic. “You loathe confrontation, don't you?”

“Utterly.”

“I respect you a lot for that. But leading the worlds now requires that you confront those who are wrong.”

“Oh, I know.”

“In Ancient English they used to talk about having ‘a thick skin.' It meant you could handle criticism.”

“‘A thick skin'? I like that. I need one of those. And I'm not sure I am going to win this afternoon.” Ethan looked at her. “By the way, what took you to the Baltimore periphery?”

A humorless smile appeared. “Aah. I grew tired of trying to get the sentinels to discuss some hard scenarios. Too many of them want to talk theories. So, as our conference site is just on the edge of the ruins, I wanted to give them a reminder of what men and women can do to each other. It was long years ago, but I felt we needed to remember.” She tapped the table with her fingers. “We drove through the old center yesterday; they have special buses with filtered conditioning. It's quite safe as long as you don't stop and get out. They say another few millennia and it will be fine.”

“Good. The past hangs very heavy over us both.”