Infinite Day (81 page)

“She
is
still asking questions.”

“I see.” Delastro rapped his fingers on the table for a moment. “I am going to be away a week, perhaps ten days. Any idea how fast her investigation is progressing?”

“She is painstaking. She has made many inquiries that haven't yet been answered. But, Prebendant . . .” There was a respectful pause. “I don't understand why you are worried. You—the model of purity and dedication—are blameless.”

He felt himself smile. “That, K, is exactly the point. I fear our great enemy is at work in this poor woman. Let me explain. Consider, for a moment, this woman's background. She is a sentinel. Now remind me, K, what do the sentinels see as their mission?”

“Looking out for evil. That's always been their purpose.” K's look showed no sign of sympathy.

“
Exactly
. Now, given that mind-set, you can see she is looking for evil. I think—no, I
know
—that she is a very stressed woman. The war hasn't helped. She is seeing shadows where there are none. My dear K, at this great hour of crisis, we cannot afford the slightest hint of a stain on the robes of righteousness. I fear she is capable of launching what might be a distraction, and one that would be hurtful to her.” He raised his finger in a gesture of admonition. “Maintain your watch. If she comes to you, delay her. Encourage her to see me personally. Talk about the necessity for ‘a personal confrontation.' I will try to deal with her when I come back.”

Then after some more general discussion, he rang off.

For some minutes, Delastro resumed striding round the room as he considered what to do. Finally, he made a call to a high-ranking member of the Guards of the Lord, who called a contact, who in turn called an associate. The result was that Delastro soon found himself talking to someone in the Medical Records Unit. The woman—a Guard, of course—was flattered to be consulted.

“The reason I'm calling,” Delastro said in the most ingratiating tone he could muster, “is that I need to check a medical record. It is someone very dear to me, showing very odd symptoms. I need to know whether there is a medical history before I counsel her.”

The woman looked rather awkward. “We have a code of privacy. I really couldn't.”

“Ah yes, codes,” Delastro said. “Such things were vital in the days of peace. But sadly, evil has come upon us. Now new allegiances must prevail. Old wineskins must be replaced by new.”

“There is that.” The expression was now one of uncertainty.

“Now suppose I told you that this was a matter of necessity. That this was a matter to do with the very survival of the Lord's Assembly. That this was, perhaps, the test of both your purity and your dedication.”

“Well . . .”

“I need a single record for five minutes. You will have it back. You don't even need to know whose it is. You just turn your back, as it were.”

“Well, as I trust you, Prebendant . . . We all do.”

Five minutes later, Delastro had a full medical record of Eliza Majweske on the screen in front of him. He scanned it. She was in depressingly good shape: her recent checkup had given her a clean bill of health. Nevertheless, her father had died of a heart attack at 102, her mother of an arterial failure at 105. Quickly, he changed the dates, knocking twenty years off each.

He then added a little to the notes from her visit.

Possible sporadic heart irregularity. Suggest more exercise, less stress. Needs to have full cardioscan next visit.

It is a mistake to try to cover your tracks after an event. Far wiser to do the covering beforehand.

A phrase of an ancient hymn came to mind.

God moves in a mysterious way

His wonders to perform;

He plants his footsteps in the sea,

And rides upon the storm.

Delastro smiled and tapped the Send button. Then he summoned Zak and began to make his preparations to head out to Jigralt.

On the
Sacrifice
, Merral continued to perform his duty as mission commander. He issued orders, supervised the repairs, and was present at the funeral of Luke. But he did no more than his duty, and the funeral service was led by Vero. When Luke's death came up in conversation, he confined himself to polite, sensitive comments that revealed nothing of his innermost turmoil.

Luke's continued presence had been a given, and his death seemed the bitterest of blows, a chilling culmination of so many deaths and losses. All that he had worked for now seemed as ashes. Merral found himself looking around, hoping to see the envoy so he could vent his bitterness.

But he never came.

Abilana tried to get Merral to talk through things with her, but he rejected her offers of help. Only two people heard anything of his real thoughts. One was Vero, and that was only in the privacy of Merral's cabin. They had been trying to analyze what had happened. Vero, sitting on the edge of the desk, sighed. “We should have expected it. The Dominion were cautious. They didn't put all their eggs in one basket. I mean, they didn't show all their ships at once. So they had four ships waiting in utter silence.”

Merral leaned back in his chair and stared at his friend. “Do you think they expected us?”

Vero sat long in silence. “
No
. I think they were surprised. I wonder if the lord-emperor has revealed the loss of one of his vessels. He is a man of pride.”

“So you don't think Betafor knew?”

“I think not.”

“Lloyd suspects treachery. Of course.” Merral stared at the far wall. “And in the melee, we completely overlooked the possibility that our own side could attack us before we could reveal who we were. How stupid of me.”

“I don't think anyone is to blame.”

“Blame would make it easier, you know.”

“My friend, I'm sure it would. But would it be wise?”

Merral shook his head. He could feel the anger and frustration welling up inside him. “
Wise
? Vero, I don't care!”

The anger burst out and he slammed a fist onto his knee.

“It makes no sense!” The anger in his voice was strong and bitter. “In Perena's death, I can see glory—victory bought at a cost. In Isabella's death . . . ?” He gave a shrug. “I suppose, you could see . . . a judgment. But
this
? It was an utterly pointless and stupid death. Luke was killed by a weapon fired
by
our
own side
. It achieved nothing. It was a total waste of a good and wise life.”

In part of his mind Merral recognized that he no longer cared about any intellectual arguments regarding evil and pain.
I am just angry.

Vero merely shook his head.

Merral got to his feet and began to pace around the tiny cabin. “Luke hadn't even completed what he had to do.”

There was a look of disagreement. “Sorry, we don't
know
that.”

“Well,
I
needed him. The Assembly needed him. It was a pointless death!” The anger clung to his words.

Vero looked up at him. “All I can say, my friend, is that faith sometimes involves walking in the dark. That's what I was taught, and I'm clinging to it. Luke's was a tragic death. But God's time
is
the best time.”

The silence was heavy. “I'll be honest, Vero. I read a lot of that ancient atheist stuff in theology classes at college. Frankly, I laughed at it. We all did. But now . . .”

An eyebrow lifted. “So you are becoming an atheist?” There was concern but also, strangely enough, a gentle amusement. “Luke wouldn't appreciate that as a memorial.”

“Well, he shouldn't have got killed, then. No, that's a silly statement. It's just I see the force of their arguments. Events occur that seem so meaningless and harmful that doubt can be cast on either the goodness or power of God.”

“The only way for
all
events to be meaningful would be if we ourselves were God.”

“So I am to just struggle along?”

Vero shrugged his shoulders in a miserable fashion. “I can't give you an answer, my friend. I won't and I can't. There are times you have to walk in darkness. But it's no good being angry.”

“I am.”

“What did you have in mind? A trial where we could accuse God?”

Merral gave an impotent shrug.

“My friend, that's been done. We found him guilty. We crucified him.”

The other person to whom Merral revealed his inner turmoil was Anya. She had volunteered to help him tidy up Luke's effects, but for Merral the very act of packing away things seemed to deepen his pain.

“You know what the worst thing is, Anya?” Merral said as he put away an image of a congregation meeting.

There was a grunt.

“When I consider my grief, I keep wanting to go to Luke to talk about it.”

Anya, peering inside a drawer, didn't look up. “Welcome to the club of grievers. But—and I would only say it to you—I've come to a point where I suppose . . . I sometimes begrudge the dead their deaths.” She held up a cluster of paper letters. “They leave things behind them for us to deal with. Death kills the dead and poisons the living.” Her tone was heartfelt and sour.

“Harsh. But there is a truth there.”

She tossed her hair back. “It's probably part of the ‘being tested' thing.”

“I daresay.”

She gave him a defiant, angry look. “Merral, I don't want to be tested.”

“Do we have any option?”

She stood up and gave him a cold, hard gaze. “We did a limited number of animal tests at college: mazes, puzzles, rewards—that sort of thing. All harmless stuff, but I never cared for them.” She gave a bleak gesture with her hands. “Are you, me—
we—
experimental animals? Do you like it?”

He considered her question.
Is God the great experimenter? How can he claim to care for his people yet at the same time test them?

He was aware of her searching, impatient look. “No,” he said softly, “I don't. Is that your issue: that you don't care for God as experimenter?”

“No. In a strange way I can live with that.” A look of pain racked her face. “If I felt I was
passing
the test, I'd be okay. But I don't. I feel I'm failing.”

She looked away, and her shoulders gave a stiff shudder; then she flung the letters down and left.

Merral stared after her.
With Anya, the impact of her sister's death has come to focus on whether she can handle events adequately.
Then an odd realization came to him.
For me, things are different: the challenge that Luke's death has raised is not whether I am adequate; it is whether God is
.

In the end, it took eight days for the
Sacrifice
to reach Jigralt because they had to surface twice. At one of the surfacing events they had a very muted celebration of Nativity a day early, but Merral found it of little comfort, and the following days brought him no ease. He forced himself to go through his many tasks out of a sense of duty. The fact that much of what he now did was an act troubled him.
All the crew see is the exterior of what I am, and there I function well enough. What they don't see is what goes on inside; that is my own business.