Infinite Day (5 page)

“I'll work on those. But you didn't mention a pilot.”

“No. I didn't.” Merral found himself staring at the floor. “I've been meaning to ask. Remember the pilot who took us to Ynysmant? Istana Nelder?”

“Yes.”

“When I left Ynysmant it wasn't clear what had happened to her. They couldn't be sure . . . after the shelling.”

The pause revealed the worst. “Sorry, my friend. She is confirmed dead. She was in the
Emilia Kay
when it took that direct hit.”

Another death. Oh, how I hate this business!

“I feared so,” Merral groaned. “Vero, since this started I have flown in action with two pilots: Perena and Istana. Both are dead. My track record isn't very good. I can hardly bring myself to appoint another.”

Vero patted him on the back. “Merral, you are hardly to blame for either d-death. And feeling unlucky is not a good idea. Not where we're going.”

Merral considered the matter. “No. It isn't. Okay. Get the best pilot you can. But she needs to know the odds. And she needs to be able to work with Azeras.”

“I think I know the right person.”

“Good. Anything else?”

“My friend, I was thinking General Lanier should be fully in charge of Langerstrand now. Why don't I get him to send over anything they have found there that might have relevance to the D-Dominion? If Lezaroth left in a hurry, there may be data or equipment there. We may b-be able to fill our information gap.”

“I approve.”

A vehicle rumbled by outside. Vero looked at Merral. “Your first visitors. I'll make those calls.”

“Thanks. And better bring in some coffee. One thing I am certain of is that this is going to be a long, long night.”

Just after five in the morning, Merral leaned wearily on the guardrail of the balcony and, squinting to avoid the intense lighting, gazed out at the growing activity below him. The silent, dusty emptiness of the hangar had been utterly transformed, and the building now echoed with the sounds of urgent voices and the clatter and whine of lifting and loading machinery. Behind him, from the main office space, he heard insistent and urgent arguments from the team compiling the supply lists.

We move fast. But Lezaroth is already on his way to the Dominion. Do we move fast enough?

And with that thought came the worrying memory that the committee Vero had prophesied had yet to meet. Merral had had a number of meetings overnight with Ludovica Bortellat and an ever-swelling logistics team, but progress on decisions had been painfully slow.

Trying to evict the concern from his mind, Merral gazed around. In the far left-hand corner of the vast space he could see Lloyd's large form presiding over the assemblage of some brilliant orange crates. The lurid color and the exaggerated caution exercised by his aide confirmed they were stacking weapons. In the opposite corner, a semicircle of blue-uniformed men and women holding databoards were peering at a table-length floating hologram of a space vessel. At the nose end of the image stood Azeras, and next to him, seated awkwardly on a high stool, sat the green, angular form of Betafor.

As he watched, he saw how every so often people would look up at him, and in their expressions he read a search for reassurance.
They think there is at least one person here not totally out of his depth. They are wrong.

Almost directly below him, what were evidently crates of foodstuffs and other supplies were being piled up by a team in overalls. He could see a woman with red hair active in their midst. Another concern now tugged at his mind.
Anya is coming with us; it's what she wanted, and the envoy seemed to approve. But is it wise? For her? Or me?

A bat swung past a nearby light. Merral looked beyond the scene of activity to the high, open doors on the opposite wall; through them he could just make out that the black of the night sky was lightening. Dawn was on its way.

“Merral,” said a voice just behind him.

He turned to see the short figure of Ludovica. She was wearing the same cream jacket and pale skirt she had when they first met just over a dozen hours ago, but now it looked tired and creased. The pinched expression on her face made his heart sink.

“Madam Chairman.”

“Oh, Merral, let's forget the formality. I have now—finally—contacted all twelve members of the administrative committee.”

“And?”

“They are on their way to Isterrane. We will meet there at eleven this morning.”

Eleven? Sooner than I had feared, but not as soon as I had hoped
.

“And what do you think they will say?”

Ludovica walked over to the rail and stood by him. “I don't know. I have made some progress, but there are so many new factors.”

Merral was silent.

“Do you know why I got this post?” Ludovica asked in a low, reflective tone.

“No.”

“I was a history lecturer at Stepalis University until five years ago. I specialized in the politics of the period just before the Great Intervention. It was considered an area of late ancient history, full of interest and peculiarity but of little relevance to the world of the Assembly.”

Merral caught a glimpse of a wry, short-lived smile.

“I had some of the smallest classes at Stepalis. And now . . .” Her tone abruptly shifted to one of sorrow. “Now suddenly I find my research to have been utterly relevant. And when I see all this I think, ‘I've been here before.'”

She turned her tired eyes toward the group inspecting the holographic ship. “Merral, it's all too much for the committee. Clemant—and Delastro—betraying us, and then all this. The loss of the hostages, this Sarudar Azeras of the Freeborn, this Betafor creature. Too sudden. All too much.”

From below came the whirring noise of a hoist.

“But we
have
to go.”

“I understand your concerns. But I have at least two members who say that if we can get this ship, we should pursue the
Dove
. Anyway, they have agreed that I have to talk with the sarudar and this Betafor. I have said I will get a computer expert to look at Betafor—a Professor Elaxal.”

“As you wish. But have you circulated Vero's report to them?”

Ludovica gave a drained smile. “Oh yes. And it has been read. But that has worked both ways. We have all now realized that so much has gone on behind our backs that we must have much more openness in the future.”

She brushed crumbs off her skirt in a firm but abstracted manner. Merral was struck by how much Ludovica had changed in the few hours he had known her. The air of competence and the sense of being in charge had largely gone. She looked up at him as if she had heard his thoughts. “Merral, when I took over this position, I resolved that the slackness in Farholme society that had allowed the debacle with Clemant would end. I would manage things tightly. Farholme would be safe with me.” Her face showed determination mingled with doubt. “That was midday yesterday. Four hours later, I released you, and that promise has been battered ever since.”

“Sorry.”

“Apology accepted.”

Behind Ludovica, Merral saw Anya approaching with, inevitably, another list. He took it and then, already glancing down at the items to be requisitioned, introduced them to each other.

“
Lewitz?
The sister of Perena?”

Merral glanced up to see Anya's reluctant nod.

“I
am
privileged. Words cannot express what we owe to your sister. We are considering a memorial. But
you
plan on going on this voyage?”

“Yes.” The answer was barely audible. Anya's expression was neutral, but Merral had the strongest sense of intense discomfort.

Ludovica took a deep intake of breath and, without warning, embraced Anya. “My dear girl,” she murmured, “I wish I had your courage.” Anya's response was utterly unyielding and awkward.

Smiling, the older lady stepped back and turned her gaze to Merral. “The quality of your team impresses me. If you are to go, then it is such people who should go with you.”

Troubled—but without really knowing why—Merral muttered some noncommittal response and signed Anya's form. With what Merral recognized to be exaggerated politeness, Anya thanked Ludovica for her good wishes and strode briskly away.

“
Impressive
,” Ludovica murmured. “Now I have some more calls to make, and I need to talk to these strangers. And I might try to get an hour or two's sleep before the meeting. You might try that too. We all have hard decisions to make. So I'll see you later.”

Then, with rapid, determined steps, she left.

Merral stood there for some time thinking about the many things that troubled him. He made another tour of inspection, and near a pile of sheeting almost bumped into Anya. Her face bore a perturbed expression.

Merral walked with her to a quiet corner. “You don't have to go, you know,” he said.

The blue eyes stared at him blankly for some moments before she answered. “I need to go. That's all.”

What can I say?
Can I probe why?
“You seemed unhappy at Ludovica's comments.”

“
Unhappy
? Yes, I was. I felt that—” She shook her head angrily. “No, I won't say. I'm not sure I can say.”

“There's no pressure.”

“There's every pressure in the world.” The words snapped out. “But I
am
going. Sorry, Merral,” she said. “It's another battle I must fight. And one you can't do for me.”

Merral was aware of something invisible passing between them. He realized how much he wanted to hold her and reassure her that he cared for her, but with it came the realization that he couldn't.
Perils lie ahead; I must not add to them
.

“I have work to do,” she said abruptly and left.

Merral gazed after her.
I'm not convinced she should come, but what can I do about it?

Ten minutes later he decided that if he was to be fresh for all the meetings and decisions of the coming day, some sleep would be sensible. Leaving instructions that he was to be woken in two hours' time, Merral found a bunk and, fully clothed, lay down and slept.

When Merral awoke, night had gone and cool, early morning light was flooding into the hangar. The piles of equipment were higher, and the once-empty space seemed more crowded.

He grabbed some breakfast and then spent several hours on a tour of inspection and consultation. Good progress was being made. Volunteers were arriving and being checked, supplies were being assembled, and even the lengthier lists had long columns of check marks on them.

By eleven Merral recalled that he had to see Jorgio and collect some belongings from the apartment at the Kolbjorn Suite. This seemed as good a time as any to do both. He found Lloyd, notified Vero he was leaving, and then set off in the two-seater.

Lloyd, who seemed preoccupied, drove him down unfamiliar, sunlit country roads without saying anything.

Merral broke the silence. “Jorgio is important, Sergeant.” As he spoke, he realized that he needed to justify a visit to an old, disfigured gardener.

Lloyd nodded. “I know, sir. I've picked that up. I reckon he knows more than we do.”

“You may be right. And he has prayed. Since the very start of this whole thing.”
Where would I be without his praying for me?

A few minutes later they came to a large redbrick farmhouse, which a handpainted sign proclaimed to be Ragili's Homestead. There, some way from the main buildings, at the far end of a gentle rise overlooking rolling yellow fields of late wheat, stood a small, square, whitewashed house amid a cluster of large trees.

In the garden in front of the house, a big man with an oddly tilted frame and wearing a battered straw hat was carefully watering flowers. He looked up, put the hose down, and walked over slowly, his left foot dragging behind.