Infinite Day

by Chris Walley

  “No.” After a few further questions, they released Betafor from formal interrogation mode. Then under Lloyd’s baleful gaze, she was taken from the room.

  For some time the four of them discussed what should be done with the Allenix.

  “We must consider turning her off,” Vero said.

  Luke stared ahead. “In other words, the death sentence.”

  Merral felt he had to respond. “She has committed murder of her own kind, plotted it against others, and by her concealment of the Krallen, contributed to Isabella’s death. We ought to turn her off.”

  Luke turned to him. “It’s not that easy. There’s a paradox. If she were a dumb machine it would be a matter of ‘turning her off.’ But if she were a dumb machine, she wouldn’t have tried to commit murder. In other words, by seeking to commit murder, she has proved that she is not simply a machine but an individual with personality. That has implications.”

  In other words, what we would be carrying out would be a judicial execution. And I would have to do it. “Fairly put,” Merral answered at length and knew that he had made his decision. It may be right to execute her, but I am reluctant to do that. Too much blood has already been shed on this voyage. Or am I being weak? “Here’s what I propose. . . .”

  Merral read the sentence. “The minor matter first: Betafor, you are in breach of the promise you made to serve the Assembly loyally.”

  There was a heavy silence.

  “Now the more serious matters. First, Betafor, you are found guilty of the capital offense of murder of your own kind and of seeking the murder of the crew of this ship. There are other charges, such as failure to help a wounded person and attempted treachery. The punishment for these crimes is death. In this case, it would be most appropriately done by voiding you into space.”

  He paused and watched a tremor pass through the machine.

  “Yet as commander, I am prepared to show grace. I therefore exercise my privilege of mercy: we will not invoke the death sentence. However, your current restrictions of not being able to access any ship communication or computer facilities and being confined to a room are to continue. Exceptions will be made only with my approval. Disobedience will result in us applying the death penalty. What do you say?”

  “I am sorry. . . . And I am grateful for your mercy.”

  “Do not mistake mercy for weakness. You are dismissed.”

  Later Lloyd came up to Merral. “Sir, I rarely disagree with you. . . .”

  “But here you do.”

  “Yes, sir. She is treacherous. I just hope it doesn’t backfire on us.”

  “It’s a risk, Lloyd. Luke reminded me that grace always is.”

  23

  Eliza gazed eastward across the salt flats to the smooth waters of the Dead Sea. Beyond the water, unnaturally blue in the early December sun, she could clearly see rugged, reddish cliffs on the far side. The armed guard standing under the nearest palm tree gave her another glance but seemed disinclined to do anything more. They know who I am; they just don’t know why I am here.

  She turned back to stare at the waters. One of the few plus points of the present crisis is that it has shelved the perennial question about returning the Dead Sea to fresh water. That is now pretty low on the agenda.

  She heard a sudden surge of noise behind her and turned to where, beyond the avenue of palms, men and women, half in the blue uniforms of the ADF, were emerging from the conference hall. She scanned the faces, seeing the watchful eyes, security guards, and weapons. How things have changed.

  She saw Ethan emerge with heavyset security guards on each side of him. He was carrying a cup of coffee and looking around. He saw her, smiled, and walked toward her. A dozen meters away, he talked to his guards and they fell back.

  A dark shadow crossed the ground and Eliza looked up to see a military rotorcraft circling overhead. More guards.

  “Eliza! What a pleasure to see you.”

  “Eeth; and you.”

  Careful not to spill his coffee, he kissed her on the cheek.

  “I should have brought you a cup.”

  “I don’t need one.”

  He looks physically frailer but, oddly enough, less harassed. Even so, how much longer can he last as chairman? The irony is that with the rise of Delastro, we need him in place.

  Together they walked to the balcony rail that overlooked the waters.

  “I was surprised to get your note,” Ethan said. “There are other ways of contacting me. Your office is not far from mine.”

  “Yes,” she said quietly, “but I wanted to talk privately with you.”

  “My office is private.”

  “I’m no longer sure about that. And it’s been difficult to get hold of you.”

  Ethan gave an apologetic frown. “Eliza, I’m sorry. I find myself surrounded by guards and advisors. And there are some things that I can no longer talk to you about. Military matters, for example.”

  Is he hinting that the military is up to something?

  “But we don’t have secret rule by the high stewards, do we?”

  The response was a weary smile. “Do I look like a tyrant? No. Any major decision—military or otherwise—must be approved by the stewards and that select handful of other leaders we always invite. You included.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.”

  “But even now, I’m afraid I can only give you ten minutes. It’s a terrible confession from an old friend. But I cannot afford to slack off.”

  “For once, I am in agreement with you.” We prefer you to some alternatives.

  “Now, tell me what you want to talk about. Or can I guess?”

  Eliza realized that he was looking over his shoulder. He is no fool. “Eeth, you can guess.”

  “Delastro.”

  She nodded. “I am finding it hard to come to terms with the sheer speed with which that man and his beliefs are making progress. He has been on Earth barely five weeks but already he has become a household name across the worlds.”

  “He’s doing a lot of good.” The tone was defensive. “There is an improvement in morale, a new dedication, and an extraordinary spirit of unity now. The divisiveness I feared has largely gone. The prebendant must get some credit for that.”

  And, of course, your enemies are now at bay; the opposition is in chaos. “So it’s all good?”

  “Mostly . . . yes.” Ethan paused. “Andreas is pretty happy too. He visited him down at this ranch he has.”

  “And you haven’t?” She nodded to the south. “It’s not far away.”

  “No. I haven’t found the time. And . . .”

  “And?”

  “He’s not my sort of person. I appreciate him, but . . .” There was a look of discomfort.

  How interesting. “Eeth, the Custodians of the Faith have reservations about Delastro. But the fact that he has made it hard for anybody to openly hold Counter-Current beliefs makes Andreas and others overlook that.”

  “Yes. Those speeches of his about the sins of being weak willed and cowardly were very powerful,” Ethan admitted. He sipped from the coffee and stared over the water. “He is having quite an effect. Stiffening up the mood. Making people more resolute.” Then he looked back at her, and she noticed new lines around his eyes. “But you aren’t happy?”

  “No.” And neither are you if you will admit it. “I’m not happy, and the sentinels I talk to aren’t happy.”

  “What have you got against the man?”

  “It’s not just the man, Eeth. It’s the movement he is leading.”

  “Delastrism—it’s an ugly word. It’s not easy to define. Other than the cult of Delastro.”

  “Delastrism does have a meaning: it’s a hard-line approach to almost everything. There’s a ruthless edge to it. The use of clichés: ‘zeal, purity, courage, dedication, and unity.’ And increasingly—and worryingly—‘obedience.’”

  “My, you really don’t like it, do you?”

  She scanned her old friend’s face, looki
ng for some hint of concern, and there, in some shadow in the eyes, she found a glimmer of unease.

  “No. And deep down, neither do you.”

  “Eliza, I’m afraid we have to live with Delastro. These are difficult times. We must focus on the real enemy.” He dropped his voice. “We have just had the Dove report and, with it, predictions of what may happen. It’s not good.” He pursed his lips. “Not at all. The meeting here today is a bit of a spin-off; it seems we need to channel even more of our resources into building up the defenses.” Ethan’s disquiet was so great that she felt a pang of sympathy. “Whatever we say and do, we must remember that the Dominion is on its way. That takes priority.”

  “Of course. That’s what Clemant says.”

  “Yes. Do you have a problem with him, too?”

  “Less so. He is such a low-profile character that it’s hard to know his influence. But our Dr. Clemant has become close to the heart of the DAS and the ADF. Increasingly, I see his hand in many things. Eeth, how do you find him?”

  “Frankly, Eliza, I find him invaluable in several areas. His planning has removed some major holdups in production at the factories. His advice to the military has been excellent. We are developing new weapons faster. With his experience, it’s hard to argue against him. Things are moving.” His face darkened. “But then, with what we’ve learned this week, they need to.”

  So Delastro is openly useful with the public and Clemant privately useful with the defense force and industry. How extraordinary that both should have become so vital so soon.

  “One last concern. The Guards of the Lord—how do you feel about them?”

  “The Guards of the Lord?” A look of surprise appeared on Ethan’s face. “They’re just a club of Delastro fans. It’s natural. They have no formal status. They have lively meetings, but I can’t say as they particularly alarm me.”

  “You know they are recruiting everywhere?”

  “K has hinted at one or two cases.”

  “It’s more than that. This Colonel Larraine is touring the bases, coordinating the cells. In the military, in Space Affairs, in the DAS itself. With the same two watchwords.”

  “Yes, purity and dedication.” He stared at her. “How do you know how many there are?”

  “We listen, we watch. And it’s getting easier; they are having their hair cut really short now. They are starting to wear neck chains or lapel pins with a little PD logo—purity and dedication. In lowercase; the p nesting into the d. Look out for it.”

  “I will. But an ornament isn’t a crime.”

  “No, Eeth. You’re right. It isn’t. But this is an odd grouping. If it gets larger and starts to apply pressure, it may be a potent force.”

  “Against who?”

  “You. The Assembly. Or the sentinels.”

  Ethan’s face portrayed discomfort. “Surely not. The prebendant has been very supportive of me. And against the sentinels? Are you sure? You were worried about the DAS and Kirana earlier.”

  Am I being paranoid? “Kirana was just watching us. Delastro wants to go further.”

  “How?”

  “Close us down.”

  “Eliza, that’s ridiculous.”

  “Is it? His office has already politely asked for minutes of meetings and a list of all sentinels and sentinel families.”

  She saw eyebrows raised in surprise. “I didn’t know that. To which you replied?”

  “That we would discuss the request at our next regular meeting. Which is not for three weeks.”

  “Are you going to give in?”

  “We are going to wait and see. We gather there may soon be laws against societies like ours.”

  “Laws!” Open incredulity showed on his face. But Eliza also sensed apprehension. “I must sign any laws. And I have heard nothing. But what justification would be given?”

  “A need to ‘integrate forces given the possibility of attacks.’ Clemant has raised the idea.”

  “Hmm. Look, I am still chairman. He cannot move against you without my say-so.”

  “Not yet.”

  “I hope never.” Ethan shook his head and took a sip of his coffee. “So let me clarify this. You don’t like Delastro, Clemant, or Larraine. You think all three are a threat, certainly to the sentinels, and—maybe—to me.”

  “I think it is indeed possible that they are a threat; possibly to the entire Assembly.”

  “You think they are—what’s the bird?—cuckoos?”

  “I think that is possible.”

  Nothing was said for some time. Eventually Ethan sighed. “Look, Eliza, I do have my own concerns. And you have made me think. But I can’t act without proof. Give me solid proof, and I will act. So, do you have any evidence?”

  How much do I say? “I have some.”

  “Of what?”

  No, I will hold my counsel. “Eeth, I won’t say. But let me ask you a question. Do you believe all that Delastro and Clemant told us about what happened at Farholme?”

  “I—we—tend to be trusting. It is our culture. Or was.” He looked perplexed for a moment. “On balance . . . yes. I think so. You don’t?”

  “I think there are anomalies. Things that don’t really ring true.”

  Ethan was silent for some moments. “You may be right. Tell me if you can document these ‘anomalies.’ But, Eliza, don’t search too hard for little evils at home when there are such large ones abroad.”

  “A wise warning.” How significant: when pushed, he too has his doubts. I definitely need to make more inquiries.

  Eliza was suddenly aware of a short woman with dark hair and an air of authority striding toward them.

  “Eeth, there is someone on her way to see you.”

  “I asked not to be interrupted.”

  “I think the head of the DAS sees herself as above that.”

  Kirana Malent joined them. “Eliza, how nice to see you.” The insincerity was blatant. “I wasn’t aware that you were on the list of delegates today?”

  Eliza bowed her head. “I wasn’t. I’m on the point of leaving, Kirana.”

  “It’s K. No names, please. But is there anything I should know about?”

  Eliza looked at her. “Probably.”

  A spark of annoyance gleamed in the dark eyes. I shouldn’t have provoked her.

  Kirana turned to Ethan. “Dr. Malunal, I think you need to return to the meeting. Some of the outer worlds have a new proposal.”

  “K, we were just discussing the Guards of the Lord. I thought if anyone knew, you would. Are they a potential threat?”

  K’s eyes swung between the two of them. “A threat? Hardly. An outburst of enthusiasm, no more. There are more pressing matters.”

  Ethan gave a conciliatory shrug.

  Eliza bowed. “Anyway, I’m off. They tell me the weather is changing. There’s a storm coming in. Eeth, K, good-bye.”

  Twenty minutes later, as Eliza drove the borrowed two-seater transport back up the winding and ancient road to Jerusalem, she glimpsed sunlight glinting on something above her.

  Overwhelmed by a sudden concern, she pulled over and parked. There she took out her diary and made a quite unnecessary call home about supper arrangements. Then she nonchalantly tilted the diary screen until she could see the sky with the thin wisps of cloud that heralded the change in the weather. On it, she caught the image of a small silver disk circling above the car.

  I am being watched. But by whom? K? Or by Delastro’s people? Then an even more worrying thought caught her. Or are they now one and the same?

  Two days later, Ethan was alone in his office, trying to ignore the storm lashing the building and staring at a long bill that would essentially hand over all inter-world travel to the military. All scheduled civil flights would be ended until further notice. It will cause a lot of hurt.

  He sighed, signed the document, and put it back in its folder. He looked up at the clock and saw it said five past ten. Didn’t Seymour say he would be here at ten?

  Ethan wo
ndered again why the commander in chief had asked for an urgent, private meeting. Perhaps he will want to talk about the Dove report, to give me further scary scenarios.

  Ethan stared out through the window, which was awash with rain. Beyond the compound, now flooded, he could see that the vehicles had their lights on. A brilliant crack of lightning lit the room, and barely a second later, the building seemed to shake as the thunder struck.

  As he gazed at the wintry scene, Ethan considered once more the conversation with Eliza. It had troubled him. Not quite as much as the Dove report, but in a different way. But she is right in this: there are forces moving within the Assembly, and I, perhaps, am too close to see what is happening. I am dependent on advisors, and if they do not speak truthfully, I will be misled. He sighed. It is undeniable, too, that the influence of Delastro is growing rapidly. And, although few would even know his name, Clemant.

  He considered the matter of the Guards of the Lord and decided he must ask Seymour about them. Nothing escapes him. I will trust his judgment.

  A knock came at the door, and a stiff-backed man in his late fifties wearing a uniform was shown in. He saluted with a vigorous confidence. “Chairman.” Formal, as ever. Well, then, let us be chairman and commander.

  Ethan sensed anticipation in the gray eyes. He gave a silent prayer. Lord, grant me the wisdom to handle aright what this man reveals.

  Ethan just nodded. “Commander, a wet journey, eh?”

  Seymour glanced down ruefully at the wet hems of his trousers. “The combination of checkpoints and the rain . . . Sorry for the delay.”

  Ethan gestured his visitor toward the pair of armchairs. As Seymour sat down in one with an agility and energy he envied, Ethan saw he was holding on tightly to a thin satchel.

  “I have something for you,” he said, and Ethan heard a barely suppressed excitement in his voice. Seymour reached into the satchel and pulled out a document.

  Ethan took it and looked inside at the first page. The heading leaped out at him: Top Secret. Project Daybreak: First Tests.

  “Dr. Habbentz’s bomb idea.” I had almost forgotten that.