Sessions began early each day and ran until well after sundown. The matter dealt with was as grave as any in the history of the Domain, or more so. Everybody demanded to be heard, repeatedly and at length. Disagreements and doubts ranged from basic principles to the pettiest procedural details. Personal enmities flared. Intrigues, covert threats, crass bargaining went on in the darker corners of the castle and the clock. Yet slowly, inefficiently, humanly, the meeting bumbled toward a consensus.
At last Vosmaer Tess Rayman could stand before it and offer a summary. She had been elected chairman at the beginning, rather to her own and the collective surprise. The feeling had seemed to be that as a service officer whose career had made her intimate with Skyholm and respected among Aerogens and groundlings alike, she might be the least controversial person present. She soon disabused the rest of that notion, but nobody seriously ventured to challenge her style of riding herd on the assembly. Most were somewhat grateful for it.
The auditorium had been added to the fortress a pair of centuries ago, a long and narrow-windowed chamber. Beneath each sill was a statue of an Ancestor, in the abstract style of that era. A turret above was actually a camera obscura, whose electronics filled a screen girdling the room above the windows with a view of the outside as seen from a height. This evening it showed dusk setting in over trees
that were still leafless, valley muddied by rain, river wanly agleam. A few stars had blinked into sight and Skyholm hung low in the north like a moon across which tiny lights glittered. The coldness of the scene pierced an air grown hot, stuffy, and tobacco-laden.
From the podium, Tess looked over the scores who sat before her. The colors and cuts of regional garb bespoke what a mixed lot they were – Clan Seniors and managers, merchant princes, regional lords and ladies who ranged from the shy and scholarly Mestromor to the elegant Grand Mayor of Elsass, from the severely black-clad President of Bourgoyn to the shaggy mountaineer who was Chief of Jura – She cleared her throat.
‘I would like at this point to sketch what we appear to have agreed upon,’ she said. ‘Not that any individual here will endorse every part of it. However, my impression is that we’ve reached a point where compromises bringing us to unity have become possible.
‘Jovain’s replacement of Skyholm personnel cannot and must not be tolerated. It does worse than giving him – him and his pack of mercenaries, Espaynians, Maurai “advisers” – total control over the most powerful instrumentality in Uropa, perhaps in the world. He can blast us to ash. We have no check whatsoever upon him, except outright rebellion and ruinous guerrilla warfare. It may well be that nothing stays his hand but the knowledge that that would destroy the Domain … and, let’s
give
them credit, probably the Espaynians and Maurai in the Skyholm crew wouldn’t obey such an order without extreme provocation from our side.
‘They are doubtless honorable, by their own lights. I myself will concede that Jovain may be. The point is that
he
and
they
decide what shall happen, not
us,
not the peoples and the ancient usages of the Domain.’ She pointed at the image of the aerostat. ‘Once that saved civilization in Franceterr. Later it guarded and nurtured. Now he has turned it into the means of absolute power.
‘And that is what’s worst. Skyholm rightfully belongs not to him but to the Domain – to our forebears and to children yet unborn, as well as us. It’s the heart of everything that we are. You may or may not personally believe that the anims of the Ancestors live on up yonder, but you know full well that their heritage does. Our purpose is to claim that heritage back.’
She paused. A rustling went through the audience. She made her voice dry.
‘What do we propose to do about it? Well, first, obviously, we
petition for a convention of Seniors. They can’t meet in Skyholm as always before, but that may not be legally required. They should vote Jovain’s impeachment and removal.
‘Meanwhile, in earnest of our resolve, we should announce that henceforward our allegiance is withheld. Our states shall pay no dues to the center, recognize none of its officials, and heed none of its decrees; and we call on other states, corps, Ligues, companies, organizations of every sort to do likewise.
‘Several among you have argued in these past days that such action will tear at the very fabric of our society. This is true. Nevertheless –’
A young man darted through the main door and along the aisle. ‘News, news!’ he howled. Tears coursed down his face, which was stretched out of shape. ‘The radio –’
Tess lifted a hand to stay the unease in the group. ‘What the devil?’ she demanded. ‘Unseemly, if it isn’t an emergency.’
‘It is,’ Ans Debyron said through his weeping. He reached the podium and sprang up beside her. ‘Hear me, my sirs and ladies. The Mong armies attacking the Northwest Union have been wiped out – by nuclear weapons. Deu deliver us!’ He sank to his knees and sobbed.
Tess held her place while horror made chaos below her. At last her gaze sought the image of Skyholm, ice-white above deepening darkness. ‘And what will you do now?’ she whispered.
2
Terai Lohannaso was in his cabin, writing a letter to his wife, when
Orion Two
blasted free. Blue-white radiance flashed through the port, bright as a dozen suns.
His chair crashed back. The cabin abruptly seemed nighted, except for the banners of dazzlement that flew across his vision. He groped his way out. Another burst came down the ladder that led to the deck. It was less fierce than the first, and even then he gauged that the angle was much more steep.
By the time he was topside and the afterimages had cleared from his eyes, there had been a third flash, but it showed star-tiny and was the last seen. Crewfolk boiled about in near panic or squatted stunned. Those who had happened to look straight at the initial explosion were recovering their sight, but more slowly than he.
Terai plowed the mob from his path, reached the rail, and stared around.
The morning had grown calm again, save for a flock of terrified cormorants whose wings beat black against a sky that held only a few clouds. The sea sparkled greenly; a slight, cold breeze sent wavelets smacking against the hull and made it roll a bit.
Rongelap
lay anchored off the little Barren Islands, to keep watch on Cook Inlet. To starboard the mountains of the Kenai Peninsula reared over the horizon, and forward the peaks of the Leutian Range, distance-hazed but brilliant in their snows. Besides the dreadnaught, half a dozen lesser ships were in view – no more, since the fleet had dispersed in squadrons well away from each other.
Afar to the north, beyond the heights Teria could see, a thread of vapor reached heavenward, slowly twisting apart and dissipating, the track of the comet.
‘Now hear this!’ bawled the loudspeaker from the bridge. ‘Now hear this! We have no cause for fear. All personnel to battle stations – smartly, look alive! – like seamen of the Queen!’
That rallied the Maurai. They trotted to their posts, resolution in their gaits and countenances. Terai felt proud of them.
‘Will Captain Lohannaso report to the admiral’s office?’ the voice called. He was already bound in that direction.
The muted thunders reached him after a number of minutes which confirmed that their source was in the neighborhood belonging to Orion.
Palu Halaweo, skipper of the flagship, gave Terai an expression of dismay. ‘Do you mean their spacecraft are ready?’ he asked.
The intelligence officer kindled his pipe and took a puff that tingled soothingly over tongue and palate. ‘No, sir,’ he replied. ‘That was a single launch. A prototype vehicle, I’m certain, intended for tests and data collection. No matter how much information the Norries have from astronautical archives, it’s just not possible that they could design and build something so ambitious on a basis of pure theory, I’ve told you before, my investigations have established they’ll need months yet to finish the work; and at that, the reliability will be questionable.’
‘But why did they send this one off in sight of Tanaroa and everybody?’ Admiral Kepaloa demanded. ‘I would have waited for a fog, at least.’
‘That’s a puzzler, sir,’ Terai admitted. ‘I suspect something went rather drastically wrong – for which, three cheers, hm? Did we get a triangulation on the site?’
‘I’m waiting to hear –-’ A rating appeared with a sheet of paper in her hand. Kepaloa laughed. ‘Speak of Nan and you’ll feel his teeth in your butt! I do believe this is the report.’
‘Yes, sir, three accounts, almost simultaneous,’ the sailor announced.
Two were from aircraft which had been on patrol off their carriers; the third was from Kodiak Island, which the surviving marines had occupied. In addition, aboard this vessel, young Roberiti Lokoloku had coolly hastened to a binnacle and taken a compass bearing on the trail while it was still clearly defined. Terai drew the lines on a map and examined their point of convergence. ‘Ye-e-es,’ he murmured, ‘this identifies the area a great deal more precisely than before. May I suggest that the admiral let me compose a message for radio to Wellantoa? The geology department at the University will either have details about those mountains or know where to get them. That will give us clues to where the other launch facilities
can
be, and we’ll proceed to bomb them to flinders.’
‘Aye!’ exclaimed Halaweo. ‘They must be well hardened, but how many tonnes of high explosive can they stand? We’ll bring it in by the convoy load if we must.’
Kepaloa scowled. ‘Why are they inviting it? Damnably queer –’
An intuition thrilled along Terai’s nerves. ‘Sir,’ he said, while his fist smote the table, ‘I suggest also that we keep receivers open to every plausible channel. It could well be that we’ll get a communication … from space.’
The rating reappeared. ‘Sir,’ she declared anxiously, ‘we have a report from a scout plane. The ironclad that was lying near Omer village is southbound at full speed. She’s sent up small, fast flyers of her own – spotters for her guns, we think.’
‘Hm. Well, well.’ Kepaloa considered the chart. ‘About three hours till she heaves in sight of us. A desperation maneuver? We’ll prepare a suitable welcome for her, eh, gentlemen?’ He saw how Terai stiffened, heard the breath go in between his teeth. ‘Aii, what’s the matter, Lohannaso?’
‘Hello, Earth. Hello, Earth. Spacecraft
Orion
calling Earth and mankind
.
‘Talence Iern Ferlay of the Domain of Skyholm speaking. With me is Ronica Birken of the Northwest Union. We are in orbit around the world. It’s unbelievably beautiful
.…’
‘Ronica Birken speaking. I
am
of the Northwest Union. I helped take this ship away from the Wolf Lodge in hopes she’d carry off the guilt my folk must otherwise forever bear. Treachery, mass murder, hazarding a new Doom, and the vision of an empire – I dare not imagine that you will follow along, once you have understood. Listen down there! You’ve been lied to, used, treated like interchangeable pieces of machinery. You who were the Free Folk, what you’ve gotten is a government, and it’s handling you the way governments always do their subjects
.…’
‘Talence Iern Ferlay again. I don’t agree with everything my lady has said, but we’re united in this, that we will not condone what has happened and it shall be avenged
.’ The Unglish changed to Francey. ‘
To my mother and her family, my foster mother and hers, all my kin, all my comrades, a word of love and comfort. We don’t know what we are going to do next or whether we can make a safe landing somewhere, sometime. But if we die, don’t grieve. We won back our honor and we are out in the middle of a miracle
.…’
Terai did not hear the broadcast as it came in. He was in his cabin again, finishing his letter home. ‘Farewell, best beloved,’ he wrote, signed his name, put the paper in an envelope and sealed it. He had a fair idea of what would presently happen. Seeking back to the admiral’s office, he found the tape of the message. As it played for him, the gray hair stirred on his head. ‘Tanaroa!’ he whispered. ‘How I envy you, Iern, boy. Luck be with you.’
Early that afternoon,
Sea Serpent
rounded the southernmost cape of the Kenai Peninsula and headed for the Gulf of Laska. She was a huge and ugly vessel, low in the water, her upper works harshly angular: bridge, deckhouse, gun turrets, missile platforms, lifeboat nacelles. Armor gleamed in sunlight that a rising mistiness had turned pale. Three stacks fumed forth stench and murk.
High above, several Maurai jets circled helpless. They had chased away the enemy planes, but when they attacked the ship, their missiles could not seriously damage her, and murderous antiaircraft fire brought down half their number. Bombers had come, to drop their loads from a safe altitude; and laser beams detonated the bombs in midair.
Terai heard the reports with rage – rage at the smugness and stupidity of the Federation’s Ministry of Defense, at the public apathy and intellectual mendacity which had mired down every effort that anybody did make toward restoring the strength and alertness that had won the Power War. Oh, yes, he remembered, they knew in Wellantoa that
Sea Serpent
existed, old and obsolete. The Norries were allowed to keep her as a mother ship for their coast guard in these waters. But her actual owner was the Wolf Lodge, which contracted her out.
No one had thought to tell Terai, or any of his service, to check on her while they were in Laska. She had simply, quietly gone off to some isolated workplace where she was transformed into this monster. Armor, armament – electronic weapons, copied from Skyholm, such as the Royal Navy itself did not possess … defending Orion directly, they would have revealed what exact location it was that they guarded, but this was a mobile stage for them –
And there the thing came.
Under power, sails folded,
Rongelap
and her squadron moved to engage. The time had been too short for reinforcements to arrive. And now the time had shrunken to nothing.