Farther down the apron was a corresponding seating area where the Eastland officials were to watch the proceedings. Like the one where she now sat, the most forward portion was set up as a VIP section where Speaker Salera and those closest to him would be watching. Woorunmarra was there, next to Salera.
The ceremonies were nearing their end. The speeches, including an address by Commander Montero, were over and a color guard made up of a mixed corps of soldiers from both sides of Pallatin was now drilling in formation for the assembled crowd. A band played; not patriotic military songs, Adela noted, but a melodic refrain that was both beautiful and haunting at the same time.
“It’s lovely,” Adela whispered to Niles. “What is it?”
“It’s called ‘Marianna Dawn.’ There are lyrics, as well, that tell of a young man going off to a war that nobody wins.” He listened closely a moment, determining where the band was in the song, then spoke softly in time to the music: “ ‘Tell me why you leave me, whene’er the hot wind blows; and I’ll tell you of my love for you, to guard you when you go. But tell me you’ll return to me, and tell me not to cry; and tell me we’ll be one again, and I won’t ask you why.’ It was written not long after Pallatin was settled, by a woman who emigrated here from Hawthorne.”
Adela nodded in understanding. Hawthorne was a dead world, evacuated two centuries earlier following a bloody civil war that left the planet’s ecosystem unable to support human life. Survey ships had since returned there, but no attempt had ever been made to resettle it.
The song ended, the last soft notes of the horns fading away over the crowds of soldiers lining the rolling hills. As the band moved off the apron, Niles leaned over and kissed his wife, embracing her briefly before turning to Adela. “I guess this is it,” he said simply. Marabell handed him the case and he walked briskly to the center of the apron, where Speaker Salera was already waiting.
Salera made some brief comments regarding the end of the hostilities and of hopes for a brighter future. He spoke optimistically about the newfound trust that had developed between the two halves of Pallatin, and of a new relationship with the Hundred Worlds. His words came naturally, as they would to a man so used to public speaking, but Adela heard the feelings behind what he was saying, and saw that he was indeed making his best effort to accept the situation.
And why not? Commander Montero had lived up to his promise to help rebuild the war-torn world. The work to restore—and improve—the pressure-tap network was nearly done. The new technology and software that had been downloaded from the Levant directly into the planet’s data libraries would enable the Pallatins not only to better control the violent nature of their world but to become more efficient in production at their shipyards. Further, Salera had at last seemed to accept that the Empire truly had no intention of interfering in their way of life. Genetic information, trade, technology and more would be available for Pallatins to accept—or not—as they saw fit.
When Niles’ turn to address the crowd came, he echoed many of the sentiments expressed by his counterpart. While he was now realizing a goal of which he’d dreamed for more than two decades, he said nothing in his remarks that might appear to be condescending to the other Speaker.
“There is one thing more,” he said as he concluded. He released a catch on the leather case and unfolded it, removing a thin rectangular slab of gleaming silvery metal that reflected the morning sunlight. “We have learned many things from those aboard the starship from Earth, but the most important things we’ve learned cannot be measured by technological means. The things we’ve learned… are about ourselves.
“I’ve also learned a great deal from the information contained in the Levant libraries. One thing I learned came from the writings of a man who lived on Earth many centuries ago. The people of his homeland would one day divide themselves, much as we have done, and he was destined to give up his life to reunite his people. Twenty years before his land was ripped apart, however, he wrote these lines.” Niles lifted the metal plate and read the words that had been engraved onto its polished surface. “ ‘At what point shall we expect the approach of danger? By what means shall we fortify against it? Shall we expect some transatlantic military giant to step the ocean, and crush us at a blow? Never! All the armies of Europe, Asia and Africa combined, with all the treasure of the Earth, could not by force take a drink from the Ohio, or make a track on the Blue Ridge, in a trial of a thousand years. If destruction be our lot, we must ourselves be its author and finisher. As a nation of freemen, we must live through all time, or die by suicide.’ ” The crowd had fallen silent, so much so that Adela thought she heard the sound of the snaps on the leather case as he refolded it around the plate.
“The references to the nations of Earth, and to her mountains and rivers, have no correlation to our world, of course. The message behind the words, however, is clear; but were it not for the efforts of these people from Earth we might have destroyed ourselves before understanding that message. To them, we owe a debt of thanks.”
He motioned for Adela and Montero to stand, then waved a similar invitation to Woorunmarra and the others from the starship. Some in the crowd might still have harbored a few reservations regarding those who, only a few months earlier, had been looked upon as “invaders” from the Hundred Worlds; but a resounding noise of approval arose now for the off-worlders. Even those from Eastland who had staunchly supported their secession from the Joint Dominion, Speaker Salera included, were relieved at the global tragedy that had been narrowly averted and joined in the applause.
Later, at a reception held at the Joint Dominion Capitol, Speaker Niles called Adela aside.
“I know you’re leaving soon,” he said over the music, “and wanted to thank you—in person, not over a holographic link.”
Adela’s face grew suddenly warm, and she wondered idly how long it had been since she’d last blushed. “We’re all very happy that everything turned out so well. Commander Montero—”
He took her hands in his, a gentle squeeze cutting her off. “I spoke earlier to the Commander. I know that the quarantine was your idea.”
A wave of cold washed over her, as if she’d just been caught in the act of committing a vicious crime. She felt a guilty lump forming in her throat and looked away to hide the tears she felt gathering in the corners of her eyes.
“I… I’m sorry,” she began, fighting back her emotions. “I just couldn’t stand to see you destroying each other; destroying all you’ve worked so long and hard to accomplish here. It… all just seemed so stupid.”
“You’re right, Doctor. It was our own stupidity we were fighting for. Dying for. As those lines from Lincoln said, we were becoming the author of our own destruction.” He fished a handkerchief from the breast pocket of his formal attire, handed it to her. “Please, feel no regrets for what you did. It was your idea that terrified us enough to make us stop the killing. For that, we will be forever in your debt.”
Marabell came out of the crowd, accompanied by Kip Salera and his wife. The Eastland Speaker spoke to Adela politely, introducing her to his wife, Jailene. “I thought I might find you here,” Marabell said lightly once the introductions were completed. “The dinner is about to begin, whenever you two”—she indicated Niles and Salera—“are ready to join Jailene and me at the main table.”