Infinite Day (38 page)

He zoomed in on the image and a series of small, sharply defined craters of equal size appeared. “You said it was used for test firing. Are these the craters?”

“Yes. Mostly from kinetic energy weapons.”

Merral slid the screen to an irregular area of silvery blue. “But there is still water in places.” He zoomed in to show a haze of green around the lake. “And some greenery. Grass or algae. The data say that the atmosphere is just breathable and at the equator during the long day the temperature is well above freezing.”

Azeras looked at it. “I have never heard of life there. It's never accounted as one of the Worlds of the Living. It intrigues you?”

“Yes, Sarudar, it does. Close to the heart of what we believe as the Assembly is the making of worlds. And that's a damaged one. But it's not dead.”

“It's dead enough.”

Or is it?

“Sarudar, while we wait for the
Comet
, how could I find out more? I'm at the resolution limits of the scope on this surveillance probe.”

“If it really interests you, why not send one of the survey drones down? We're close enough—half a million kilometers. I'll help you. It will pass the time. Provide a distraction.”

Something that takes your mind off the fate of your people may be no bad idea.

“C
an I fly it?”

“It will fly itself, but you can override it. You want to fly it in Saratan or Communal?”

“Saratan. It'll be practice. Is there any risk?”

“Hardly, Commander.” Azeras gestured to the bleak imagery. “I have seen enough dead worlds; this is another. We can launch from shallow Below-Space, and we'll self-destruct the drone when we run out of fuel.”

“Then let's do it.”

Luke helped Azeras and Merral to prepare the drone for launching; he was volunteering, he said, to help revive his engineering skills. As they freed the drone from its restraints, Merral was seized by a thought that at first struck him as frivolous and then, in a way he couldn't define, as vital. He went to his room and returned with a small paper envelope.

“Azeras,” he said, “can we release these from the drone?”

“What are they?”

“Seeds. From a cedar tree.”

Azeras stared back and Merral sensed an almost total incomprehension in the dark eyes. “Why? You think they will survive?”

“It's unlikely. But not impossible.”

“So why bother?”

Luke came over and put his arm on Merral's. “Because, Sarudar, Merral here wants to make a statement.”

That's it, isn't it? A statement.

He saw a frown of incomprehension. “What sort of statement?”

Merral tried to find the right words. “About what—who—I am. That I am a forester first and a warrior second.”

“How nice.” The sarcasm was cutting.

“But there's more, isn't there?” Luke added.

Yes, there is.
“You explain, Luke. I think you see more than I do.”
Luke can express what I feel. That's why I value him.

The chaplain looked at the packet of seeds and then at Azeras. “Sarudar, if I sense rightly what Merral wants to do, it is this: he wants our first actions in this system to be those of blessing. And he's right. The Assembly stands for healing and blessing not hatred, nor destruction, nor even rule.
They
are the Dominion;
we
are the Assembly.”

“I'm sure that will be deeply appreciated by the lord-emperor.” The sarcasm was even deeper. “Well, better get the symbolism out of the way before Lezaroth turns up.” Azeras flicked open a small hatch on the underside. “Put them in.”

Merral launched the drone and set it on autopilot for the equator of Nithloss. Noting that the computer estimated it would take ten hours for the craft to reach and descend through the atmosphere, he went about some other tasks. A couple of hours later Merral went to see Luke in his office. There, as they talked, Merral switched the wallscreen to a view of Khalamaja and the great fleet.

“So, Chaplain, what do you think of all this?”

Luke gave a low groan. “Merral, I am awed and appalled by it all. Everywhere I look, I see machinery and weapons of war and the dedication to the powers. The Assembly faces an overwhelming enemy. We are not a people who fear easily, but all this . . .” He shook his head. “At times, Merral, I feel that I should counsel you to turn and flee.”

“Don't offer me such advice! I'd take it.” He flicked the screen to the steely dagger of the Blade of Night. “And this? What do you think of this?”

Luke stared at it for some time, seemingly grappling for the right words. “As long as I live, I will struggle to come to terms with this. This horror represents the result of the pursuit of power at whatever cost.” He shook his head. “It reminds me of the tower of Babel. That was built with bricks at the dawn of our race in an attempt to reach the heavens. And here we are again, but this time vastly greater. It is an abomination. A moral obscenity.”

“Azeras seems very scared of it,” Merral observed in the long, drawn-out silence that followed.

“As well he might. He is no fool, and he senses—perhaps clearer than he says—what terrors it holds and what horrors it portends. We detest it and we rightly fear it, but we know that our Lord is infinitely mightier than theirs. But our Sarudar is defenseless. He has not come under the protection of the One who rules all things. Even this. Not yet.”

Luke got to his feet and walked toward the screen, and when he spoke again he addressed the Blade of Night. “What are you? What is your purpose?” He turned his eyes to Merral. “To build a structure this size, to spend so long doing it . . . Nezhuala must feel it is worthwhile.”

“I have assumed it has allowed him to harness the baziliarchs.”

“Yes. But there's more. There must be. Nezhuala sees this as the heart of his power. I don't understand its significance but I sense it is both a mighty weapon and a throne. I am nagged by the idea that one day it will dominate all the worlds.”

Luke sat his tall frame on the edge of the desk and looked at Merral. “Yet here, too, we differ from Azeras. He fears that it will bring an eternal darkness that will cover every world. But even if it brings on a new dark age, we know that at the Lord Messiah's coming—however long that be delayed—all this will be broken. One day, the light will come back.” He looked at the sign on the wall. “Here, too, God's time is the best time.” Then the chaplain gave a rueful shake of his head. “Merral, at times I seem to be speaking about things that I know little of.”

Nothing was said for some time; then Luke turned sharp eyes to Merral. “Are you very worried about what lies ahead?”

“Yes.”

“What worries you most?”

As Merral thought, he sensed more than heard a heavy silence in which the only sounds were the faint tick and hum of electronics. “That I will fail.”

“A wise concern. Far safer than pride.”

“Do you have any advice? Specific?”

Luke cracked his knuckles. “Only this. You are called to be a man of action and a leader, Merral. Yet you have depths. You tend to self-examination; you always analyze what is happening and what you have done. That is a good thing, but in the days ahead it may be a luxury you must ration yourself. Be careful that you do not turn to introspection when you need to act.”

“Hmm. Let me think about that.”

There was a smile. “That proves my point.”

Seven hours passed. Merral sat down in front of a series of control screens and, with Azeras at his side, signalled the drone to start atmospheric entry. The Sarudar seemed to be in one of his troubled moods and said little other than to offer terse commands. As the drone slowed in the lower atmosphere and extended its wings, Luke came and sat on the other side of Merral. When the detailed imagery from the machine began to come on-screen, it showed that the drone was high over a seemingly endless desert of dirty orange sand and rock, slashed open every so often by great trenches. Reminded by Azeras that it took nearly two seconds for the images to reach him and the same time again for commands to reach the drone, Merral was cautious in losing height, eventually settling at a computer-assisted altitude of two hundred meters.

Guided by a map, he flew slowly for the best part of an hour across great man-made gulfs and over several deep, shadowed craters and screes of material ejected by test firing. He saw no trace of life or hint of greenery; it seemed an utterly dead world. Several times he came across the rusting wreckage of ancient machinery.

“Luke,” Merral said, “it's not a great world, but for the first time in five weeks I feel liberated. I am now, in some way, out of the ship. I am the worst space traveler.”

“I must be the second worst. But then, the Most High didn't make us to live our lives in metal cans.”

Merral turned back to the screen to see the stark vista of sand and rock. “It's a poor land, isn't it?” He laughed. “It was pretty foolish to think of planting seeds here, wasn't it?”

“Foolish? No. I think the symbolism is excellent.”

Merral glanced up at Azeras, but he was silent, remaining slumped back in the seat and staring at the screen with an unfathomable expression. Is he thinking of his own dead worlds?

The equator seemed barren, and they turned the drone north towards cooler lands. At last one of the silvery water bodies appeared ahead. Advised by Azeras, Merral dropped lower and reduced his speed to the safe minimum. As he approached the lake—or was it a small sea?—he could see that the green haze around it was some kind of reed beds. In places, he saw that streams fed from springs ran into the lake margin.

“That's a good spot,” Merral remarked as he carefully turned the drone into a slow curve that would bring him back over the biggest of the streams. As he did, he noticed a series of cliffs at the far end. Above one, a smudge stained the sky. Making a note of the compass heading, Merral lined up on the stream and then, just before the craft reached it, emptied the hatch.

“There!” he said. “Be interesting to know what's there in fifty years' time.”

Azeras gave a grunt that suggested skepticism.

“An action is right whether or not it has results,” Luke said. “But you think there's hope the seeds may take root?”

“I have no idea. But there's water and some sort of soil.” Merral adjusted the course again. “Now let's find those cliffs.”

Abruptly, Azeras leaned forward and pointed at the smudge in the sky. “See that! That's smoke.”

Merral saw the dark smear rising into the sky from a cleft in the cliffs and turned the craft towards it.

“It does look like it.” Merral agreed. His eye was caught by something else—small black dots circling round the smoke column with an odd, un-birdlike motion.

“What are they?” Luke asked.

In a second, Merral had no doubt as he saw the wide, black wings with their rippling motion and the long, whiplike tails. “Slitherwings,” he said with a shudder. “Four of them.” As he watched, he saw them dive toward the ground.