Dark Foundations (62 page)

“No!” Vero's tone showed agitation, and he seemd to look around. “That would reveal our hand. We'll stockpile them.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Clemant will complain. So I thought you ought to know.” As he paused, Merral suddenly noticed that he was so thin the bone structure of his face was visible. “And very soon there may be another demand for mass production of . . . other items. I can't say more. Just get it authorized and make sure there is no fuss.”

Without waiting for an answer, he muttered, “Must dash” and walked swiftly away.

Three days before the vote, Merral was called into Clemant's office. Clemant gestured irritably at a note on his desk. “Over the last few days a number of manufacturing plants have had their production diverted. Some are now producing spun silica fiber of a precise composition. What's going on?”

“It's an urgent defense need,” Merral answered.

“For what?”

Merral hesitated. “Armor suits. But that's to be kept secret.”

“Did you order it?”

“No. But I approve.”

He shook his head. “And what about this? Others are being asked to produce molecular-tuned metals and ionic transfer batteries in vast quantities.”

“Another urgent defense need.”

“Do you know what they're for?”

“Well . . .”

Irritation flooded Clemant's face. “This is madness, Commander! I have a head of defense who hasn't a clue what's going on. I have an off-world sentinel running around taking over our entire industrial production.” He glared at Merral. “Anarchy threatens to overwhelm us.”

“Sir, there are just three more days. I think we need to trust Vero. He knows what he's doing.”

Clemant exhaled slowly and loudly. He stared at the wall of screens as if seeking inspiration, and then shook his head. “You'd better be right.”

Merral had seen little of Anya for some time, but met her on the stairs close to his office the next day. She looked pale and tired as if both color and energy had drained out of her.

“I wanted to see you,” she said with a tone of urgency. “But not in your office.”

“Down here,” he said motioning her into an empty corridor. “What's up?”

“Things are happening. More than you know. Vero wants me out of the way for the next few days.” She gave him a look that was full of dread. “It's coming, Merral. It's war and it's going to be bad—worse than we imagined.”

“I wouldn't argue. But you know more than me.”

“Possibly.” Her expression changed to one of concern. “How are you doing? I've been worried.”

“Thanks. I miss you. And Vero, and your sister. How am I doing?” He took a deep breath. “It reminds me of when I had to climb a grand fir at college. It was nearly a hundred meters high. Nearly at the top, I looked down. It was a bad move. I froze solid with terror—vertigo. In the end, I forced myself to go on. And I made sure that I never looked down. It's just like that now.”

“Good.” She smiled in way that made him feel he was special. “I must go. I also came to say that we are being put on alert. I'm going to be, well, absent for the foreseeable future.”

“I see. I feel very much on my own.” He heard the self-pity in his voice and hated it.

“I'm sorry. But I wanted to see you. I don't know when we'll meet again.”

As she turned to go, Merral's throat tightened.
Or if we will.
He felt stabbed suddenly by the terrible certainty that they would not all make it safely through this looming war. “Keep safe,” he said.

She touched his hand. “And don't look down.”

Later that day, Merral snatched time to visit Jorgio. He found his old friend flopped on a deck chair under a tree, a big hat slumped on his head.

Jorgio was strangely tired. “The humidity, I expect,” he grumbled. “Not used to being near the sea.” But Merral was unconvinced.

Over the inevitable tea, he asked Jorgio, “The ambassadors—what do you feel about them?”

Jorgio's thick lower lip jutted out and trembled. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“There's just a blank; no noises anymore. Nothing.”

“So, you feel there is nothing there?”

“
Tut
. Didn't say that. I said I
feel
nothing. It's all blank. Like as if snow covered it all.”

“So there could be something there? Something evil perhaps?”

Jorgio frowned. “More than likely. I reckon if a thing was evil enough, we probably wouldn't be able to see it.”

“A good point. Jorgio, you have your diary?”

He groped around his belt clumsily until he found it. “Yes!”

“If anything happens, can you call me? Immediately?”

“I will.”

That evening Merral and Lloyd were summoned to a meeting with Vero at the junction of two of the underground passageways. As they walked along them Merral, who had never particularly liked being underground, felt that the tunnels seemed dark and oppressive.

At the end of the passageways Vero waited for them with a middle-aged woman. Next to them, flat on the ground, was a thick disk.

“Meet Nina,” Vero said. “She wants some measurements. All yours, Officer.”

“Thank you,” Nina said. “Now, Commander, this will only take a minute.” Her voice was terse. “Stand on this disk, please. Good. Hands at your side. Good. Now look straight ahead. Don't move.” She pointed a handheld device at Merral and as the disk rotated, beams of dull red light played over his body. “Thank you. Next, please.”

As Lloyd was measured, Merral beckoned Vero away.

“What's this for?” he asked.

“Your armor suit. The troops get them off the shelf. Yours and Lloyd's will be tailor-made.”

Nina picked up the disk, saluted, and strode away.

“Thanks. Will everyone have them?”

“Only the regulars. We don't have enough resources for the irregs.”

“I see. Vero, I have a question that you may feel that you can answer. From talking with Azeras, do these people have weaknesses?”

“Yes. Many. The chief one is fear—fear of many things, but death most of all.”

“Yes, Luke spotted that.”

“Did he? It seems the Freeborn have always feared it, but the Dominion fear it especially. So they seek to do all they can to avoid it. They buy themselves decades by gene engineering; they replace everything they can by synthetics; they use cloned body parts; they make linkages with hardware. They do it all.”

“And how is that a weakness?”

“It makes them cowards. And it makes them dependent on machines.”

“I see.”

Vero grasped him by the hand. “Now, my friend, we may not meet until after the decision. Do what you can to ensure a vote against it.”

“I'll try, but it's hard without revealing that I know more than they do.”

“There must be no risk of that.”

“And after the vote?”

“All hell will break loose.”

“Is that a figure of speech, or do you mean it literally?”

“A literal meaning is precisely what I fear.”

22

W
hen finally it came to the vote, the contact team met around the table in Corradon's office. There, amid the plants, they had a long and heated discussion. The five representatives were plain: general opinion was in favor of a treaty. The public mood was due to a combination of things: the threat of the True Freeborn, the promise of a rapid reunion with the Assembly, and a growing irritation with the closure of the Library and the Admin-Net.

One representative summarized his dilemma. “If it was just me, I'd say no. But I am a representative and must act on my people's wishes.” His words were greeted by sympathetic nods.

Then it came to the vote. Three representatives voted in favor of the treaty, but one voted against and one abstained. Merral voted no and, after a few mutterings, Jenat did likewise. All eyes turned to Clemant.

“No,” the advisor said, after a long silence. “I vote no.”

“Four to three against,” Corradon announced with a mournful shake of his head. “I fear what this will bring.” He gazed around the table, plainly hoping for second thoughts, but there were none.

“Very well,” he said with the deepest of sighs. “I will take the news to the ambassadors personally.”

“Sir,” Merral said, as the others began to leave, “I wish to put the alert level to orange.”

Corradon seemed to stare into infinity. “If you must, after I have spoken with them. But, Commander, please don't trigger any hostilities. I want to leave every last chance for a peaceful outcome. We don't want any more deaths.”

Having ordered the level of alert to orange, Merral, acting on a sudden impulse, followed Clemant into his office.

“May I ask why you voted against the treaty?” he asked, after closing the door.

Clemant stared at the wallscreens before turning his dark gray eyes on Merral.

“I found much among our visitors that attracted me.” He nodded at the screens. “They have seen the threat of chaos. They know how to control worlds.”