by Chris Walley
He was also encouraged by the potential that Isabella had to serve the Dominion. She had firmly taken to heart the fantasy that she might be able to help bring peace. As he thought of her wide-eyed enthusiasm for such an idea, Lezaroth felt amused. The safest way of persuading Assembly people to do your will is to convince them it’s all in a good cause; they can’t resist noble ideals. Exactly how she might be used he wasn’t quite sure. He felt that, with appropriate coaching and careful selection of what she saw in the Dominion Worlds, she might be a vital tool. They might even be able to send her back to the Assembly ostensibly to work for peace but in practice to act as a Dominion agent. It was a pleasing notion; there were few things he could offer the lord-emperor to compensate for the debacle at Farholme, but an embryonic Dominion spy was one.
And if the lord-emperor has other uses for her? Lezaroth gave a mental shrug. It matters little to me.
The first of the three ships to arrive at its destination was the Dove of Dawn. As the Dove began its ascent from the depths of Below-Space and color began to creep back into the world, former Advisor Clemant found himself standing at the rear right-hand corner of a cramped bridge. In addition to Captain Huang-Li and two other crew members, Delastro, Gerry, and Zak had also squeezed in. Clemant noticed that Delastro had taken the single spare seat that, by rights, belonged to him as mission commander. Typical; he thinks he is commander. Nevertheless, Clemant did not really object to standing where he was; it was a location that allowed him to observe both events and individuals.
Gerry, so close to him that he could smell some sort of perfume, was clearly excited and constantly moving up and down on the balls of her feet. Already tall and striking, her persistent motion seemed to draw attention to her in a way that he found rather irritating. But he understood her excitement. A lot rides on this for her: whether her alarm message was heard; whether her big, bad bomb can be made; and whether she can renew a relationship she feared was dead.
Ahead of her sat Delastro, his face a mask as he stared at the shuttered front ports. As Clemant considered the cleric, he felt seized by an extraordinary sense of unease. I may need him, but that man utterly scares me. Zak was standing by the door with a stiff posture that conveyed some sort of readiness. A readiness for what? And as the inquiry formed in his mind, Clemant realized he didn’t want to know the answer. His eyes did, however, slide to the captain. What are we going to do about that damning document on her computer? That must not be delivered. But how to stop it?
Slowly, over forty minutes, full color returned, bringing with it blue uniforms, red dials, orange signs, and flesh-colored limbs and faces. To his intense irritation, Clemant realized he wore mismatched socks.
“We are taking her up slowly,” the captain pronounced. “I don’t imagine there is any debris, but I want to be careful.”
Five minutes later, Captain Huang-Li consulted a screen and ordered the window shutters up. “We should soon be starting to see the stellar disk of Anthraman and Bannermene just to the right. And anybody waiting for us.”
Let’s hope it’s the Assembly and not the Dominion with some monster like Lezaroth and an army.
They all stared ahead. “Over there, to the left!” Gerry called out.
Sure enough, to the left the formless gray was lightening, and within moments a silver and gold disk was breaking through the mist. And just ahead to the right, a pale blue crescent was emerging. Why did I expect Bannermene to appear as a sphere?
In another moment, the stars were visible.
Clemant heard the captain pray loudly, “May the Most High be blessed!” Gerry’s stern eyes didn’t stop searching the screen.
“Better start signaling,” she said to the captain. “Just in case there’s military around.”
“Will do. Send it, Charlie. Ought to wake them up.”
A moment later the bridge echoed to the strident voice of the communications officer. “This is Assembly vessel Dove of Dawn inbound from Farholme. Repeat, Assembly vessel. Please acknowledge receipt. This is a captured and unarmed Dominion vessel now under Assembly control. . . .”
The captain made a downward movement of her hand. “Volume down, Charlie. We need to hear ourselves think.”
As the repeated message sounded at a much lower volume, the captain spoke again. “Let’s scan for other vessels.”
On the screen above the front port, a hexagonal frame of six green lights appeared. “Ah! A working Gate! Good. Now, let’s see. . . .” A succession of grainy images of small gray spheres, cylinders, and disks appeared on the screen. “Near Station, Far Station—all where the almanac says they should be. Gate Station. Wait!”
Clemant peered at the screen, where six needles lay nestled against each other, as the captain continued. “There are too many ships around the Gate. Big ones.”
Clemant glanced at Gerry and caught a glimpse of a joyous conclusion in her eyes. “Focus in closer. Please.” A husky intensity rang out in Gerry’s voice.
“Just trying, Gerry. It’ll take a moment.”
Clemant could feel the tension. He stared forward, looking at the long, gray, angular lines.
“That’s a warship!” Gerry said with excitement.
The captain leaned her head forward as she peered at the screen. “It’s certainly no vessel I’ve ever seen.” Her voice was cautious.
“It’s one of ours!” Gerry was dogmatic. “It’s narrow enough to be deployed through a Gate.”
“Could be, Gerry.” The captain was looking at another screen. “You know, there are a lot of ships here. At least twenty. Bannermene has become the place to be.”
But Gerry was staring at the main screen. “It’s military—those have to be missile pods.”
Suddenly, the screen danced with static and a new voice could be heard. The first new live voice I have heard for the best part of a month.
“Dove of Dawn, we acknowledge your message. This is Assembly frigate Riga Bay.”
“A frigate! Oh yes!” Gerry shouted and danced in jubilation as the unseen speaker continued.
“You are now in an Assembly defense zone. Be warned, we are armed and on high alert. Any action that is considered hostile will be responded to with force. Please set course for Far Station; give your flight plan and we will intercept you and board you en route. In the meantime, please identify who you are and . . . explain your circumstances.” There was a pause and the formal tone slipped. “Please excuse us, Captain. We are very wary around here.”
“Very well.” The captain was smiling. “We have at least a thirty-second delay in any conversation, so let me begin by detailing who I am. I trust you will check all these facts.” And as she began to say who she was, giving lots of detail about her training, Clemant found himself gazing around. We are back in the Assembly!
He decided that there wasn’t much point in staying on the bridge; any docking would be at least twelve hours off. As he turned to walk away, Clemant saw out of the corner of his eye that both Delastro and Zak were staring at the captain. Then they turned to look at each other and the prebendant made a slight motion with his hand that was unmistakably a gesture of command.
Clemant, already fearful that he had seen too much, left swiftly. As he walked down the corridor a single thought resonated in his brain: I have arrived safely in the Assembly; but what horror have I brought with me?
The stunning news of the arrival of the Dove of Dawn at Bannermene reached Earth with remarkable speed. Ethan was having an early morning shower in his flat outside Jerusalem when he heard a hammering on the door of the bathroom.
“Sir! Sir!” It was his aide.
Ethan turned off the shower, wrapped a towel around himself and went to the door.
“What is it, Hanif?” he said, hearing the irritation in his voice. “Can’t it wait?”
“You have a guest, sir—Mrs. K—with a most urgent message.”
“Tell her I will be with her in a minute.”
As he made a hasty attempt to dr
y himself, Ethan wondered what had brought Kirana here so early. Perhaps she had some explanation of those strange events a week ago when a crewwoman had been ripped open in space and then, half an hour later, in the conference between the stewards and the military, the doors had opened of their own accord and the room had been filled with a strange light. Or was it something new?
Ethan put on a dressing gown, ran a hand through his thinning hair, and left the bathroom.
In the living room, Kirana was pacing the floor and talking into her diary. As Ethan entered, she gestured him to a chair and ended her conversation.
“Good morning, K,” Ethan said.
The gray eyes gleamed with triumph. “Dr. Malunal, a ship arrived at Bannermene three hours ago. It claims to be from Farholme.”
Ethan, lowering himself into his seat, stopped halfway.
“That’s impossible! Physically impossible.” Forty light-years—wasn’t that the gap?
“Apparently not. It’s a captured enemy ship, the Dove of Dawn. The crew check out. They seized it in battle. The Dominion was defeated in fighting at Farholme.”
“Defeated!”
Ethan sat down heavily in the chair. “K, just repeat that to me.”
“A battle occurred at Farholme. With this Dominion. Our Farholmers won and seized this ship, the Dove of Dawn, and flew here. They have data on the Dominion. Weapons technology. Ship design. The lot.”
Ethan bowed his head and gave thanks to God. Then as he tried to assimilate the endless implications, he looked up and stared out across the room. In the long wall mirror, he glimpsed a back-to-front vision of the burnt, brown, end-of-summer landscape of the Judean hills that his balcony overlooked. The perspective has changed. It is the same with this news: the perspective has totally changed.
“And it’s not a trap?”
“Data is still coming in. The military there are readying to board it in a couple of hours. But everything checks out. The pilot has been recognized. Voice-print analysis confirms it’s her. She has a hundred details of pilot school that no one could fake.”
“Sit down, K.” For once, she obeyed him. “Who’s on the ship? It ought to be Corradon.”
“Apparently not. They say that Corradon is dead, killed in fighting. Advisor Clemant and Prebendant Delastro seem to be the main characters.”
What’s a prebendant?
“No sentinel? That Verofaza something?” He realized he was still slightly damp.
“No sentinel was mentioned.”
Trying to identify the key facts, Ethan was suddenly aware that he was looking at the wall clock; it was 7:35.
“Wait a minute. When did you hear about this?”
There was a tiny moment of hesitation. “The first news came in just before five.”
“Why wasn’t I woken? Why didn’t Seymour call me?”
“We were still determining whether it was . . . some sort of a hoax. Or a trap. He and I agreed it was best that you be allowed to sleep.”
“I would prefer to have been woken.”
“No threat existed and we saw no need for an executive decision. But my apologies.”
And why am I being informed by Kirana and not someone from the ADF? She has exceeded her authority. He decided that those matters could wait; he needed to take action now.
“Right!” he said. “Thank you.” He expected her to leave, but Kirana sat there, an expectant look on her face. She expects me to tell her my decisions. Well, I will concede a little.
“I want a full briefing: Commander Seymour if he is in town; Military Intelligence; and Space Affairs. The green room in half an hour. I can expect your attendance?”
“Of course.”
“Good.” Suddenly, recognizing that the elation he would have expected was missing, Ethan had a doubt. “But as far as you can tell, K, it seems good news? I mean, we have had a victory? Haven’t we?”
“It is partially good news.”
“How partially?”
“They are also saying there is an invasion fleet prepared. Far bigger than we can imagine.”
“Aah.” Ethan heard the fear in his voice. “On that basis, even calling it partially good news may be too optimistic. Well, let’s see what the briefing tells us.”
Back on the Dove, Gerry Habbentz could not remember when she had last been so excited. Standing in her room, she felt somehow reborn. The world—now in blessed color—seemed a sweeter, happier place. Possibly within hours she would be out of this ship where she was cooped up with the increasingly alarming Delastro and the rather chilling Clemant. Winter is over; spring is in the air. She felt a desire to smile and as she packed her things, sang some old songs heedless of the fact that she was out of tune.
As she did, she looked at the datapak that lay on her desk. In that innocent white slab is the power to destroy worlds. In her present mood, the thought struck a rather discordant note. Was it right to destroy the whole Dominion and all those people? to be so utterly merciless? just like that? She felt a new unease. Should not grace prevail? She picked it up and weighed it in her hand, reminding herself of the ancient symbol of justice: the blindfold woman with the scales.
“No!” she said aloud. We will not automatically deploy this weapon. I will recommend we test it but not just launch it. We may use it as a bargaining tool, but I will not support the utter destruction of all. She put the datapak down. I will let mercy triumph!
Then feeling good about herself and the future and even—for the first time in months—positively inclined to those who had done so much harm, she left for the bridge. There, with Clemant’s permission, she got through to the comms officer on the Riga Bay and asked if she might transmit a text message.
A series of discussions followed in which she could hear policy being made. “Yes,” the answer came back, “as long as it is brief and uncoded.”
She dashed back to her room, fingers fumbling at the door. I really want a conversation with Amin; I need to talk to him. But at least we can reestablish communications. She called up the screen and got onto the Assembly system with something of a delay. The good old Assembly log-on screen! She felt she could have kissed the Lamb and Stars.
Dear Amin! Back in touch and within sight of Bannermene! Can you believe it? An amazing story but safe and well. We need to talk. I will try to contact you soon.
Much love, Gerry.
She paused and sent the message, then calculated how much time it would take going through Gates and between worlds and decided that there would be a twenty-minute delay at least before she received an answer.
In fact it was half an hour before a bell chimed and the wallscreen came alive. She looked at the screen, and even before she read the words, a sense of foreboding like a massive weight punched into her.
There was a picture of Amin in the corner, and it was black edged. She read the words, their terrible import sinking in slowly.
This is a message from Hilda and Ferraldo, Amin’s parents. Thank you for trying to contact our son. We are deeply saddened to tell you that Amin was killed in a training accident outside La Chapelle on the 28th of September.
Gerry felt hot tears flooding her eyes.
All we can say is that he was working on new weapons and that something went wrong. We are proud of Amin. As you know, he played a small but vital role in alerting the Assembly to the peril it faces. Amin did not need to go on active service and could have easily been shifted to training of crews. But he volunteered. He will be missed. We are proud of him. Yours, kept by his grace.
Two shaky signatures were appended.
Gerry cried for an hour. Then she got up, washed her face, and prepared to go to the bridge and tell the others the news. As she straightened her clothes and tried to tidy her disheveled hair, her gaze fell on the datapak. And she realized that mercy had fled forever.
Numbed and feeling as if she were someone else, Gerry began to walk to the bridge. As she did, it dawned on her that people were shouting. When she came to the open s
pace that ran between the decks, she saw a crew member looking down, her face pale and her hand on her mouth.
Gerry joined the woman. She was about to say, “Amin is dead” when it finally registered that something else was terribly wrong. She peered over to see two floors below and surrounded by people the limp, broken figure of Captain Huang-Li.
Clemant found Delastro in his room. His stomach felt like lead and his head hurt.
“Prebendant, the captain . . . she’s dead!”
Delastro looked at him. “So I have heard. How very sad.” The voice betrayed no emotion.
“What happened?” I can guess, but I want to hear his story.
“I gather, Doctor, that Colonel Larraine found a stain on the ceiling above that space—the atrium, or—whatever you call it. A stain that might have been overlooked in the grayness of Below-Space. He was worried it might have been a fluid leak. He pointed it out to the captain. She was concerned.” He shrugged his high, thin shoulders. “She overbalanced. Zak reached out to grab her but was too late.” Delastro seemed to look at his feet.
