“Still, it grew. So did Empire, Terra’s, that is, till they met and clashed. Couple centuries ago, they fought. Ythri lost war and had to give up good deal of border territory. But it’d fought too stiffly for Imperium to think of annexin’ entire Domain.
“Since, relations have been … variable, let’s say. Some affrays, though never another real war; some treaties and joint undertaking, though often skulduggery on both sides; plenty of trade, individuals and organizations visitin’ back and forth. Terra’s not happy about how Domain of Ythri is growin’ in opposite direction from us, and in strength. But Merseia’s kept Imperium too busy to do much in these parts—except stamp out freedom among its own subjects.”
“Nothing like that to make a person objective about his government,” Mikkal remarked aside.
“I see,” Fraina said. “How clearly you explain … Didn’t I hear him tell he was, m-m, from Avalon?”
“Yes,” Ivar replied. “Planet in Domain, colonized by humans and Ythrians together. Unique society. It’d be reasonable to send Avalonian to spy out Aeneas. He’d have more rapport with us, more insight, than ordinary Ythrians.”
Her eyes widened. “He’s a spy?”
“Intelligence agent, if you prefer. Not skulkin’ around burglarizin’ Navy bases or any such nonsense. Gatherin’ what bits of information he can, to become part of their picture of Terran Empire. I really can’t think what else he’d be. They must’ve landed him here while space-traffic control was broken down because of independence war. As Mikkal says, eventually he’ll leave—I’d guess when Ythrians again have consulate in Nova Roma, that can arrange to smuggle him out.”
“You don’t care, Rolf?”
“Why should I? In fact—”
Ivar finished the thought in his head. We got no Ythrian help in our struggle. I’m sure Hugh McCormac tried, and was refused. They wouldn’t risk new war. But … if we could get clandestine aid—arms and equipment slipped to us, interstellar transport furnished, communications nets made available—we could build strength of freedom forces till—We failed because we weren’t rightly prepared. McCormac raised standard almost on impulse. And he wasn’t tryin’ to split Empire, he wanted to rule it himself. What would Ythri gain by that? Whereas if our purpose was to break Sector Alpha Crucis loose, make it independent or even bring it under Ythri’s easygoin’ suzerainty—wouldn’t that interest them? Perhaps be worth war, especially if we got Merseian help too—He looked up at Erannath and dreamed of wings which stormed hitherward in the cause of liberty.
An exclamation drew him back to his body. They had topped a ridge. On the farther slope, mostly buried by a rockslide, were the remnants of great walls and of columns so slim and poised that it was as if they too were flying. Time had not dimmed their nacreous luster.
“Why … Builder relic,” Ivar said. “Or do you call them Elders?”
“La-Sarzen,” Fraina told him, very low. “The High Ones.” Upon her countenance and, yes, Mikkal’s, lay awe.
“We’re off our usual route,” the man breathed. “I’d forgotten that this is where some of them lived.”
He and his sister sprang from their saddles, knelt with uplifted arms, and chanted. Afterward they rose, crossed themselves, and spat: in this parched country, a deed of sacrifice. As they rode on, they gave the ruins a wide berth, and hailed them before dropping behind the next rise.
Erannath had not descended to watch. Given his vision, he need not. He cruised through slow circles like a sign in heaven.
After a kilometer, Ivar dared ask: “Is that … back yonder … part of your religion? I wouldn’t want to be profane.”
Mikkal nodded. “I suppose you could call it sacred. Whatever the High Ones are, they’re as near godhood as makes no difference.”
That doesn’t follow, Ivar thought, keeping silence. Why is it so nearly universal belief?
“Some of their spirit must be left in what they made,” Fraina said raptly. “We need its help. And, when they come back, they’ll know we keep faith in them.”
“Will they?” Ivar couldn’t help the question.
“Yes,” Mikkal said. In him, sober quiet was twice powerful. “Quite likely during our own lifetimes, Rolf. Haven’t you heard the tale that’s abroad? Far south, where the dead men dwell, a prophet has arisen to prepare the way—”
He shivered in the warmth. “I don’t know if that’s true, myself,” he finished in a matter-of-fact tone. “But we can hope, can’t we? C’mon, tingle up these lazy beasts and let’s get back to the Train.”
IX
The mail from Terra was in. Chunderban Desai settled back with a box of cigarettes, a samovar of tea, and resignation to the fact that he would eat lunch and dinner and a midnight snack off his desk. This did not mean he, his staff, or his equipment were inefficient. He would have no need to personally scan two-thirds of what was addressed to his office. But he did bear ultimate responsibility for a globe upon which dwelt 400 million human beings.
Lord Advisor Petroff of the Policy Board was proposing a shakeup of organizational structure throughout the occupied zone, and needed reports and opinions from every commissioner. Lord Advisor Chardon passed on certain complaints from Sector Governor Muratori, about a seeming lack of zeal in the reconstruction of the Virgilian System, and asked for explanations. Naval Intelligence wanted various operations started which would attempt to learn how active Merseian agents were throughout the Alpha Crucis region. BuEc wanted a fresh survey made of mineral resources in the barren planets of each system in the sector, and studies of their exploitability as a method of industrial recovery. BuSci wanted increased support for research on Dido, adding that that should help win over the Aeneans. BuPsy wanted Dido evacuated, fearing that its cloud cover and vast wildernesses made it potentially too useful to guerrillas. The Throne wanted immediate in-depth information on local results should His Majesty make a contemplated tour of the subjugated rebel worlds …
Night filled the wall transparency, and a chill tiny Creusa hurtled above a darkened city, when a thing Desai himself had requested finally crossed the screen. He surged out of sleepiness with a gasp. I’d better have that selector reprogrammed! His fingers shook almost too badly for him to insert a fresh cigarette in his holder and inhale it to ignition. He never noticed how tongue, palate, throat, and lungs protested.
“—no planet named, nicknamed, or translated as Jean-Baptiste, assuredly not in any known language or dialect of the Empire, nor in any exterior space for which records are available. Saint John, Hagios Ioannes, and the continent of San Juan on Nuevo Mexico were all named after a co-author of the basic Christian canon, a person distinct from the one who figures as active in events described therein and is termed in Fransai Jean-Baptiste, in Anglic John the Baptist …
“The origin of the individual self-denominated Aycharaych (v. note 3 on transcription of the voice print) has been identified, from measurement upon holographic material supplied (ref. 2), with a probability deemed high albeit nonquantifiable due to paucity of data.
“When no good correlation was obtained with any species filed with the Imperial Xenological Register, application was made to Naval Intelligence. It was reported by this agency that as a result of a scan of special data banks, Aycharaych can be assumed to be from a planet subject to the Roidhun of Merseia. It was added that he should be considered an agent thereof, presumably dispatched on a mission inimical to the best interests of His Majesty.