Anvil Of Stars Part 21

"I'm glad, Martin. I was pretty sure you wouldn't forget."

But he could not dream of Theresa.

Until now, Martin had wanted revenge, but he had not felt the extraordinary burn of hatred. hatred.

These monsters had cost him too many worlds, too many loves.

The children had been brushed away with a casual swat, crippled by an enemy who knew more tricks than their Benefactors. The survivors had been left to starve in a depleted void.

Tens of billions of kilometers away, Hare Hare fell downward to the brightness. fell downward to the brightness.

Martin came out of his healing field to arrange things, to talk on the noach with Hans, who suppressed emotion in his voice, as Martin expressed no emotion in his. And then he led the children into a long sleep. No dreams, just coldness.

Tortoise rose from the pit of Wormwood to meet her sister. rose from the pit of Wormwood to meet her sister.

There would be no defeat, no giving up.

And no peace.

PART TWO.

Ten years in cold, tracking each other on the rim of a shallow well: Tortoise Tortoise and and Hare. Hare. In defeat, caution, conserving resources. Ten years would not matter in this war of centuries. In defeat, caution, conserving resources. Ten years would not matter in this war of centuries.

While the crew slept, the ships came together again and made a new Dawn Treader, Dawn Treader, half its previous length, only two homeb.a.l.l.s connected by a short neck. Some old s.p.a.ces came back, though empty of pets and personal effects. half its previous length, only two homeb.a.l.l.s connected by a short neck. Some old s.p.a.ces came back, though empty of pets and personal effects.

The schoolroom and cafeteria remained. No damage showed, but the fuel reserves wrapped around the neck were much reduced.

Martin awoke a month after the rejoining, to consult with the moms. Field-wrapped in a cushion of warm air, he laddered through the cold, evacuated chambers of the Ship of the Law, approving or suggesting changes. He was not sure why he had been awakened; perhaps the moms were interested in the changed psychology of a crew facing defeat and death, and sought to study one individual's response. If so, they found Martin taciturn.

He had suffered no ill effects from the long cold sleep. He thought he much preferred sleep to years between the stars, these brief silent deaths between bright lives.

But there was a handicap to cold sleep. They would all awake with disaster fresh in their minds, their emotions raw, and immediately have to go to work. Martin was angry and frightened and twisted to such an extent he wondered if he were ill. How much psychological damage had he sustained? He could not know; there was no time for grieving and readjustment.

None of the moms carried a mark of paint. Either the marks had flaked away completely during the ten years, or the War Mother had returned to the bulk of the ship, emerging with Martin from a different kind of sleep.

Martin completed his inspection in five hours. A mom accompanied him to the chamber where the crew slept. "It is time to awaken everyone," it said. "Final deceleration will begin before they are revived. We will approach the inner worlds within two tendays."

"Good," Martin said. "Let's go."

He listened to the winds blowing through the ship as atmosphere and warmth returned. Isolated in a small room next to the sleep chamber, he felt weight return, and stood on his feet for the first time in ten years.

The others came awake in groups of five, were tested by the moms for any health problems, cleared, and gathered slowly, quietly, in the schoolroom.

The ship's floor felt cool to their bare feet.

Martin stayed away from the crew until they gathered in the schoolroom. His mind wandered; he thought of the children's pets, which would not return; Dawn Treader Dawn Treader did not have reserves to spare. Martin did not know how this would affect morale; he thought they had other and larger griefs to deal with first. did not have reserves to spare. Martin did not know how this would affect morale; he thought they had other and larger griefs to deal with first.

He could hardly bring himself to face the crew and tell what had happened; he did not want to feel their grief as well as his own.

But duty at least remained, if no direction or feeling, and he spoke to them, to start and to finish, to do what he knew must be done.

"We're no longer children," Martin told them. The schoolroom at least had changed little, with a star sphere at the center, filled with thirty-eight men and thirty-seven women. "We've fought and lost. We may not be mature, or very smart, but we're no longer children."

The crew listened in silence.

"I've fought and lost," Martin said. "I missed what should have been obvious." fought and lost," Martin said. "I missed what should have been obvious."

"The moms missed it, too," Hakim said, but Martin shook his head.

"A decade has pa.s.sed. My term as Pan has long since expired. It's time to choose a new Pan. We should do that now."

Ariel sat looking at her folded hands.

"I nominate Hans," Martin said. "Hans is my choice for Pan."

Hans stood in a group of Hare Hare's crew, big arms folded, lips tightening slightly, pale skin reddening. "We usually measure time by how long we're awake," he said. "By that measure, you still have some months left."

"Hans did a fine job commanding Hare Hare," Martin said, ignoring the comment. "His instincts are better than mine." He looked briefly at Hans: Do not make me say it more clearly. Do not make me say it more clearly. Hans looked up at the ceiling. Hans looked up at the ceiling.

Alexis Baikal seconded the nomination.

"We'll take any other nominations," Martin continued.

The crew looked among each other, then Kimberly Quartz said, "I nominate Rosa Sequoia."

Rosa's broad face flushed but she said nothing. Decline, Decline, Martin silently suggested, swallowing back an even deeper sense of dread. Martin silently suggested, swallowing back an even deeper sense of dread. No sane person would nominate Rosa. No sane person would nominate Rosa.

"I second the nomination," Jeanette Snap Dragon said.

Martin surveyed the crew.

"I nominate Hakim Hadj," Paola Birdsong said.

That was a pretty good choice, Martin thought. Hakim looked up in surprise and said, "I decline. I have my place, and it is not as Pan."

"I renominate Martin son of Arthur Gordon," Joe Flatworm said.

"Decline," Martin said.

There were no further nominations.

"Vote through wands," Martin said. The voting was quick: sixty-seven for Hans, eight for Rosa. Martin projected the results, then laddered forward to offer his hand to Hans. Hans shook it lightly and broke the grip quickly.

"Hans is the new Pan," Martin said.

"I don't want any ceremony," Hans said. "There's work to do. I appoint Harpal Timechaser as Christopher Robin. "

"Decline," Harpal said.

"The h.e.l.l you will," Hans said. "We've had about enough emotional s.h.i.t. Take the job or we're all d.a.m.ned."

Harpal gaped. Without waiting for his answer, Hans pushed through the crew to the edge of the schoolroom and the door, twisted around with feline grace, and said, "Martin's right. We're not children. We're sc.u.m. We've failed and we've lost friends. I condemn us all to h.e.l.l until we kill these G.o.d d.a.m.ned worlds, all of them. We're already dead; there isn't enough fuel to get out of here and go any place decent. Let's take these sons of b.i.t.c.hes with us."

The crew began to look at each other now, shyly at first, then with a few reckless grins.

"G.o.ddammit," Paola Birdsong said, as if trying out the word for size. It was much too big a word for her, but the solemnity pa.s.sed from her face, replaced by a grim, lively determination.

Rosa Sequoia floated as still as a statue, face as impenetrable as a mom's.

"Let's go see what's up," Hans said.

Hakim approached Martin as the crew echoed and laddered out of the schoolroom. "There have been changes," he said conspiratorially. "I would like you to be on the search team."

"Hans should-"

"Hans has no say, unless he wishes to disband the search team and start over. I do not think he will ask for that, Martin. I would enjoy working with you."

"Thank you," Martin said. "I accept."

Hakim smiled. "My friend," he said, touching Martin's shoulder.

There had indeed been changes. "I do not think we wasted our time," Hakim said as Hans, Harpal, and the search team gathered in the nose before the star sphere.

Nebuchadnezzar was no longer a brown world. Marked by streaks of bright red running longitudinally from pole to pole, dark lines like cracks covered the surface.

"It looks sick," Thomas Orchard said.

"It is is sick," Martin said in wonder. "Some of our makers and doers got through." sick," Martin said in wonder. "Some of our makers and doers got through."

Hans regarded the star sphere image with chin in hand, frowning. "I thought everything we sent down turned to anti em and blew up."

"Three pods got through," Martin said. "We a.s.sumed they were destroyed some other way, but apparently they weren't."

Hans said nothing for a few seconds.

Hakim glanced at Martin almost shyly, as if preferring still to think of him as Pan. "Perhaps not all is lost," Hakim said.

"Bulls.h.i.t. We're dead," Hans said. "But we may not die in vain."

"Perhaps that is what I mean," Hakim said.

"All right," Hans said. "How long would it take for seeds to come down from the outer haloes?"

"Nine or ten years," Martin said. Harpal concurred.

"The planet's still there. Either they haven't come in yet, or they were deactivated. Can we signal them?"

"They should pick up the noach," Harpal said. "If they haven't been destroyed."

"Let's do it," Hans said. Hakim made the arrangements on his wand. The results were almost instantaneous; a signal sent out, a signal returned from a seed carrier to the ship's noach receivers. The carrier reported that eleven seeds had been delivered to Nebuchadnezzar's interior, sufficient to cook the planet's entire surface to a depth of fifty kilometers. Detonation of the seeds was imminent. Seeds would be delivered to Ramses within two tendays.

"I'll be d.a.m.ned," Hans said. "We've come to just in time for a show. show."

The search team and Martin moved closer to the star sphere.

"Let's send out remotes and take a closer look," Hans said. "We're how far?"

"Four hundred million kilometers from Ramses. Two hundred and fifty million from Nebuchadnezzar. Nebuchadnezzar must be a very sick planet," Hakim said. "We were more successful than we ever hoped."

"I trust in nothing," Hans said. "Martin didn't make any obvious big mistakes, and we still got whipped badly. I have to be that much better." He smiled almost shyly at Martin, suggesting that they might share some secret joke, and his smile actually took a weight from Martin's shoulders; he was not anathema, at least not to Hans. "If the planet's sick, and if our doers have jammed its defenses, we don't have to worry-but we haven't dropped doers on Ramses, and anything could happen there when the seeds arrive to be inserted. Am I right?"

Harpal and Martin nodded. Hakim was busy releasing remotes to increase their baseline. "What about those orbiting dark ma.s.ses?"

"They have not changed," Hakim said, interrupting himself. "The same orbits, the same ma.s.ses, the same sizes judging by occultations."

"And the small craft?"

"We are actually not far from one such," Hakim said. "They are still in orbit. They have returned to status quo."

"I'd like to see the close one," Hans said.

"I have records from the past few tendays, recorded by the ship," Hakim said. "I will play them back." The star sphere sectioned and they watched a small bright point grow in size in compressed time to a long, blunt cylinder, gray in color, featureless, barely ten meters long. "It is coasting," Hakim said. "Quiet, no drives."

"Can we take it out?" Hans asked.

Hakim looked to Harpal and Martin.

"I suppose," Harpal said dubiously. "Why waste the effort?"

"I want to try," Hans said dryly. "I guess I give the order, am I right?" He lifted his wand. "We're how close to this little slicker?"

"Two million kilometers."

"I want two rifles to waste a little fuel, see if we can destroy it. That'll wake the sons of b.i.t.c.hes up if they're still sleeping, or if they're just logy from dealing with our doers. If they don't react, we know something..."

"What?" Martin asked.

"That these orbiting ships aren't important, or..."Hans shrugged. "That the planets are sitting ducks."

"Or something else," Harpal said.

"Keep it up," Hans said, not unkindly. "Keep badgering me. What else?"