Sherkaner stopped by an elevator; Unnerby didn’t remember it from his previous visits. “Watch this, Hrunk…. Press nine, Mobiy.” The bug extended one of its long, furry forelegs. The tip hovered uncertainly for a second, then poked the “9” slot on the elevator door. “They say no bug can be taught numbers. Mobiy and I, we’re working on it.”
Hrunkner shed his entourage at the elevator. It was just the two of them—and Mobiy—who headed upward. Sherkaner seemed to relax, and his tremor eased. He patted Mobiy’s back gently, but no longer held so tight to the tether. “This is just between you and me, Sergeant.”
Unnerby sharpened his gaze. “My guards are Deep Secret rated, Sherk. They’ve seen things that—”
Underhill raised a hand. His eyes gleamed in the ceiling lights. Those eyes seemed full of the old genius. “This is… different. It’s something I’ve wanted you to know for a long time, and now that things are so desperate —”
The elevator slowed to a stop and the doors opened. Sherkaner had taken them all the way to the top of the hill. “I have my office up here now. This used to be Junior’s, but now that she’s been commissioned, she has graciously willed it to me!” The hall had once been out-of-doors; Hrunkner remembered it as a path overlooking the children’s little park. Now it was walled with heavy glass, strong enough to hold pressure even after the atmosphere had snowed out.
There was the sound of electric motors, and doors slid aside. Sherkaner waved his friend into the room beyond. Tall windows looked out on the city. Little Victory had had quite a room. Now it was a Sherkaner jumble. Over in the corner was that rocket bomb/dollhouse, and a sleeping perch for Mobiy. But the room was dominated by processor boxes and superquality displays. The pictures shown were Mountroyal landscapes, the colors wilder than Hrunk had ever seen outside of nature. And yet, the pictures were surreal. There were shaded forest glens, but with plaid undertones. There were grizzards sleeting across an iceberg eruption, all in the colors of lava. It was graphical madness… silly videomancy. Hrunkner stopped, and waved at the colors. “I’m impressed, but it’s not very well calibrated, Sherk.”
“Oh, it’s calibrated, all right—but the inner meaning hasn’t been derived.” Sherk mounted a console perch, and seemed to be looking at the pictures. “Heh. The colorsare gross; after a while, you stop noticing…. Hrunkner, have you ever thought that our current problems are more serious than they should be?”
“How should I know? Everything is new.” Unnerby let himself sag. “Yeah, things are on an infernal slide. This Southland mess is every nightmare we imagined. They have nuclear weapons, maybe two hundred, and delivery systems. They’ve bankrupted themselves trying to keep up with the advanced nations.”
“Bankrupted themselves, just to kill the rest of us?”
Thirty-five years ago, Sherk had seen the shape of all this, at least in general outlines. Now he was asking moron questions. “No,” said Unnerby, almost lecturing. “At least, that’s not how it started out. They tried to create an industrial/agricultural base that could stay active in the Dark. They failed. They’ve got enough to keep a couple of cities going, a military division or two. Right now Southland is about five years further into the cold than the rest of the world. The dry hurricanes are already building over the south pole.” Southland was a marginally livable place at best; at the middle of the Bright Time, there were a few years where farming was possible. But the continent was fabulously rich in minerals. Over the last five generations, the Southlanders had been exploited by northern mining corporations, more avariciously each cycle than the last. But in this generation, there was a sovereign state in the South, one that was very afraid of the North and the coming Dark. “They spent so much trying to make the leap to nuclear-electrics that they don’t even have all their deepnesses provisioned.”
“And the Kindred are poisoning whatever goodwill there might otherwise be.”
“Of course.” Pedure was a genius. Assassination, blackmail, clever fearmongering. Whatever was evil, Pedure was very good at. And so now the Southland government figured that it was the Accord that planned to pounce on them in the Dark. “The news networks have it right, Sherk. The Southies might nuke us.”
Hrunkner looked beyond Sherkaner’s garish displays. From here, he could see Princeton in all directions. Some of the buildings—like Hill House—would be habitable even after the air condensed. They could hold pressure, and had good power connections. Most of the city was just slightly underground. It had taken fifteen years of construction madness to do that for the cities of the Accord, but now an entire civilization could survive, awake, through the Dark. But they were so close to the surface; they would quickly die in any nuclear war. The industries Hrunkner had helped to create had done miracles…. So now we’re more at risk than ever.More miracles were needed. Hrunkner and millions of others were struggling with those impossible demands. During the last thirty days, Unnerby had averaged only three hours’ sleep a day. This detour to chat with Underhill had scuttled one planning meeting and an inspection. Am I here out of loyalty… or because I hope that Sherk can save us all again?
Underhill steepled his forearms, making a little temple in front of his head. “Have… have you ever thought that maybe something else is responsible for our problems?”
“Damn it, Sherk. Like what?”
Sherkaner steadied himself on his perch, and his words came low and fast. “Like aliens from outer space. They’ve been here since before the New Sun. You and I saw them in the Dark, Hrunkner. The lights in the sky, remember?”
He rattled on, his tone so unlike the Sherkaner Underhill of years past. The Underhill of old revealed his weird speculations with an arch look or a challenging laugh. But now Underhill spoke in a rush, almost as if someone would stop him… or contradict him? This Underhill spoke like… a desperate man, grasping at fantasy.
The old fellow seemed to realize that he had lost his audience. “You don’t believe me, do you, Hrunk.”
Hrunkner shrank back on his perch. What resources had already been sunk into this horrifying nonsense? Other worlds—life on other worlds—that was one of Underhill’s oldest, craziest ideas. And now it was surfacing after years of justified obscurity. He knew the General; she’d be no more impressed by this than he was. The world was teetering on the edge of an abyss. There was no room to humor poor Sherkaner. Surely the General did not let this distract her. “It’s like the videomancy, isn’t it, Sherk?” All yourlife, you’ve made miracles. But now you need them faster and more desperately than ever before. And all you have left is superstition.
“No, no, Hrunk. The videomancy was just a means, a cover so the aliens wouldn’t see. Here, I’ll show you!” Sherkaner’s hands tapped at control holes. The pictures flickered, the color values changing. One landscape morphed from summer to winter. “It’ll be a moment. The bit rate is low, but channel setup is a very big computation.” Underhill’s head tilted toward tiny displays that Hrunkner could not see. His hands tapped impatiently on the console. “More than anyone, you deserved to know about this, Hrunk. You have done so much for us; you could have done so much more if only we’d brought you into it. But the General—”
On the display, the colors were shifting, the landscapes melting into low-resolution chaos. Several seconds passed.
And Sherkaner gave a little cry of surprise and unhappiness.
What was left of the picture was recognizable, if much lower bandwidth than the original video. This appeared to be a standard eight-color video stream. They were looking out a camera in Victory Smith’s office at Lands Command. It was a good picture, but crude compared to true vision, or even Sherk’s videomancy displays.
But this picture showed something real: General Smith stared back at them from her desk. The work was piled high around her. She waved an aide out of the office, and stared out at Underhill and Unnerby.
“Sherkaner… you brought Hrunkner Unnerby to your office.” Her tone was tight and angry.
“Yes, I—”
“I thought we discussed this, Sherkaner. You can play with your toys as much as you please, but you are not to bother people who have real work to do.”
Hrunkner had never heard the General use such tones and such sarcasm with Underhill. However necessary it might be, he would have given anything not to witness it.
Underhill seemed about to protest. He twisted on his perch, and his arms flailed, begging. Then: “Yes, dear.”
General Smith nodded and waved at Hrunkner. “I’m sorry for this inconvenience, Sergeant. If you need help getting back on schedule…”
“Thank you, ma’am. That may be. I’ll check with the airport and get back to you.”
“Fine.” The image from Lands Command vanished.
Sherkaner lowered his head until it rested on the console. His arms and legs were inward-drawn and still. The guide-bug moved closer, pushed at him questioningly.
