Infinite Day (77 page)

Before main engine ignition, Merral briefly addressed a full hall of crew, passengers, and soldiers and had Luke lead them in prayer. Then he ordered everyone to their posts.

An hour after they had descended into the grayness of Below-Space, Merral went and found Jorgio, who had been allocated a compartment with an engineer. He found the old man sitting on the bed, staring mournfully at the floor, where a half-opened bag lay.

“Like this all the way, is it?” Jorgio looked up at Merral with sad gray eyes.

“I'm afraid so.”

The man opened his hand and stared at his stubby fingers. “Gray! Gray as dust.
Tut!
Nothing would grow here.”

“I don't suppose it will.”

The twisted shoulders gave a shake of displeasure.

What is this man going to do for the next ten days?
A sudden idea came to Merral. “I have a job for you.”

“A job?”

“Yes. The canteen. There will be people popping in for tea or coffee. The ship is running all hours. The machines can make it, but it would be nicer if you were there. You can work there whenever you feel like it. Give it the human touch.”

There was a ponderous nod. “Not much
human
here. Very well. I'll do it.” He stared at Merral. “But I don't like this ship. Or this way of traveling.”

“No one does, Jorgio. That's why the Assembly uses Gates. We just abide it. It's a necessary evil.”

A few hours later Merral found himself alone with Luke in his study. He saw that the chaplain had added some new images to his wall: a farm, a seascape, a congregation hall.

“How is Jorgio?” Luke asked, leaning back in his chair.

Merral sighed. “Not enjoying the flight. I'm hoping that working in the canteen may help. But it would be hard to think of a man who would less like this world of gray machinery. And he certainly won't be happy when the manifestations begin.”

“No. I'll pass by and see him later. I've heard a lot about him.”

“An odd and good man. I would be glad of your insight.” Merral was struck by something. “Luke, can I be honest with you?”

“Never a bad idea with anyone.”

“Look, frankly, I have no idea why we're taking Jorgio. I like him—no, I
love
him—and he prays fervently and effectively, but . . . Well, I have no idea what he is going to do when we reach Earth.”

“We're taking him because you were asked to by the Most High. Isn't that enough?”

“I suppose so.”

Luke had a hard look in his dark eyes. “Does that worry you? That you don't know why?”

“I suppose so. A little.”

He received a look of warning. “Beware of that. Merral, you are a commander. You give orders, right?”

“Yes.”

“Do you explain everything to those under you?”

“I try to.”

“Always?”

“
No.
Sometimes . . . well, it isn't possible.”

“But you do expect obedience? Even without explanations?”

“Yes. Of course.”

Luke gestured with his hands. “Isn't that it? We need to obey, whether we understand or not.”

“Point taken, but I find it very unsatisfactory. Don't we
need
to know?”

“We will be told one day.” Luke gestured to the sign on his wall.
God's time is the best time
. “That applies to this. There is a time for knowing and a time for not knowing. A lot of the time we are in the ‘not knowing' mode. One day we will be told.”

“I look forward to it,” Merral said and pulled some folded paper out of his jacket pocket. “Luke, I was given a review on your old lecturer by Ludovica. This is a copy of the summary.”

Luke frowned. “Delastro.
Hmm.
”

Luke took the pages, shaking his head as he read them. Then he handed them back. “Yes. I agree with the analysis.
Sadly.
It fits with what I remember of him. These events have turned him. As they may turn us unless we are watchful.” His eyes acquired a sharp look. “But why did you give it to
me
?”

“Because I wanted to hear your analysis.”

“And?”

“Because I think it may fall to you to deal with him.”

“Do you?”

Merral waved the papers. “The issues are what it calls a ‘deviant theology.' I'm out of my depth.”

“I doubt it. It's just a fancy phrase for sin. But, Merral, I have to ask you, is this another battle you want me to fight for you?”

“It's in your area.”

“Maybe. But I think it's your responsibility.”

Within two days of the
Sacrifice
beginning its new voyage, Vero, once more settled into almost full-time seclusion in his compartment, found himself struggling to hide his concerns. One minor setback had been that Gerry's data was proving impossible to decrypt. Betafor couldn't do it, and the
Sacrifice
's main computer was devoting all its spare processing time to try to crack the code. It might take weeks—if it could be done at all. Far more troubling than this was the fact that he had now completed a full review of all he knew. The results were not at all encouraging.

Vero sat back and stared at the screen. A single phrase thudded out a deadly, frightening beat in his brain.
We can't win. We can't win. We can't win.

He let his head sink into his hands.
Oh, there are weaknesses. Their ships are crudely finished. The lord-emperor rules by fear rather than respect. The skills of some of the men, especially the slaves and the low-born, are poor. There is corruption, mutual antagonism, and internal weaknesses
. He sighed and he heard fear in his sigh.
Yet taken together, these weaknesses amount to very little. In all the weeks I have spent researching, the flaws I have discovered in the might of the Dominion are miniscule. They are still overwhelmingly powerful. They are small enough that, given time, we can defeat them. But we may not have that time. And at the moment, they've assembled a force of men, machines, and powers that will be impossible to defeat
.

Vero struck his hands together in frustration.
Even if the Assembly has been alerted—please, God, let it be so—we will be crushed soon. We need something else.
He got up and paced around the room.
Remember the old sentinels' rule: put yourself in your opponent's shoes
.

He sat down again.
Very
well, if I were the lord-emperor, what would I fear?

In a few moments, the answer came to him, as clear as if it had been stamped on his brain.
I would fear a rival.

He felt himself frown.
What do I mean by that?

The answer was not slow in coming.

I mean another summoner of the powers, another wielder of the extra-physical world
. A new, strange thought struck him.
Perhaps that is why he is afraid of Merral. It is not what he has done but what he may become. Does he see my friend as a rival?

Vero felt himself smile at the thought of Merral the magician.
Can I use the lord-emperor's fear to destroy him? Hardly.

Another thought struck him.
No, but such a fear might distract him. And, at a crucial moment, a distraction might be useful.

Vero considered how he might create such a fear. The answer was plain.
By pretending to be a rival magician.

His thoughts turned to the file that held copies of everything in the priest's books.

“I will not do magic,” he said in a low whisper. “But I will study the principles. Just enough so that, if needed, I may be able to distract the lord-emperor.”

Vero made sure his door was locked and then opened the file.

As it happened, when the first manifestation appeared Merral was with Jorgio in the canteen. As he had expected, the old man was very unhappy. The thing was a writhing cloud the height of a human being and the shape of a giant fist. Jorgio saw it and started, spilling coffee everywhere, and then backed away, shaking his head and muttering prayers.

Merral took him aside and tried to allay his fears.

To his surprise, it turned out that Jorgio's reaction was not fear but outrage and disgust. “That thing had no right here,” he said, almost spitting in indignation. “Not among the Lord's people. Not at all!”

After five days of traveling without incident, apart from an outbreak of shadowy forms that were unnervingly like human silhouettes, Merral found himself with a spare hour due to a canceled meeting. His thoughts turned to the castle tree simulation. He had not visited it since the dreadful day of Isabella's death, and on the tree's timescale, over a decade would have passed. He felt anxious about the progress of the simulation, but the guilt he felt over his last visit was such that it was only very reluctantly that he even picked up the crystal egg. He sat on his bed for some time, holding it in his hand, as he ran over every possibility that he might be leaving some other duty neglected. Finally he put on the glasses and entered the simulation.

It was summer in his world, and soaring, turbulent clouds were building up over the leaden plain. Even seen only in monochrome, the sense of an impending storm was tangible. Merral began his scrutiny with some concern; the tree had survived storms before, but they were always a threat. He decided to spiral up round the outside first. As he swung up under the lowest of the great branches, he caught a glimpse of an unfamiliar shape but flew on. Then as its significance registered in his mind, he spun around and returned.

There, hanging from under a stocky branch, was a shadowy figure. Merral, trying to make sense of what it was, felt that it was some sort of large animal with a long tail. The flattened head bore a pair of slitlike eyes and swiveled after him as he moved around. Whether it was a mammal or a reptile or something else was hard to tell. But Merral knew that it ought not to be there.

“Who are you?” he asked.