“Correction,” said Smith. “Thingsmay change.” The wind slid them toward a drop-off that Unnerby could barely see. Smith downshifted, forced the auto back toward the middle of the road.
“You see,” continued Underhill, undistracted, “there really are power sources that could support civilization through the Dark. You said we’d have to create our own sun. That’s close, even if no one knows how the sun works. But there’s theoretical and practical evidence of the power of the atom.”
A few minutes earlier, Unnerby would have laughed. Even now, he couldn’t keep the scorn out of his voice. “Radioactivity? You’re going to keep us warm with tons of refined radium?” Maybe the great secret was that the Crown’s high command was readingAmazing Science.
Such incredulity rolled off Underhill’s back as smoothly as ever. “There are several possibilities. If they are pursued with imagination, I have no doubt that I will have the numbers on my side by the time of the next Waning.”
And the General said, “Just so you understand, Sergeant. Ido have doubts. But this is something we can’t afford to overlook. Even if the scheme doesn’t work, thefailure could be a weapon a thousand times deadlier than anything in the Great War.”
“Deadlier than poison gas in a deepness?” Suddenly the storm outside didn’t seem as dark as what Victory Smith was saying.
He realized that for an instant all her attention was upon him. “Yes, Sergeant, worse than that. Our largest cities could be destroyed in a matter of hours.”
Underhill almost bounced off his perch. “Worst case! Worst case! That’s all you military types ever think about. Look, Unnerby. If we work at this over the next thirty years, we’ll likely have power sources that can keep buried cities—not deepnesses, but waking cities—going right through the Dark. We can keep roadways clear of ice and airsnow—and by the middle years of the Dark, they’ll stay that way. Surface transport could be much easier than it is during much of the Bright Times.” He waved at the hissing rain beyond the sports car’s windows.
“Yeah, and I suppose air transport will be likewise simplified,” with all the air lying frozen on the ground. But Unnerby’s sarcasm sounded faint even to himself.Yes, with a power source, maybe we could do it.
Unnerby’s change of heart must have shown; Underhill smiled. “You do see! Fifty years from now we’ll look back at these times and wonder why it wasn’t obvious. The Dark is actually a more benign phase than most any other time.”
“Yeah.” He shivered. Some would call it sacrilege, but—“Yeah, it would be something marvelous. You haven’t convinced me it can be done.”
“If it can be done at all, it will be very hard,” said Smith. “We have about thirty years left before the next Dark. We’ve got some physicists who think that—in theory—atomic power can work. But God Below, it wasn’t till 58//10 that they even knew about atoms! I’ve sold the High Command on this; considering the investment, I’ll surely be out of a job if it fizzles. But you know—sorry, Sherkaner—I rather hope it doesn’t work at all.”
Funny that she would support the traditional view on this.
Sherkaner: “It will be like finding a new world!”
“No! It will be like recolonizing the present one. Sherk, let’s consider the ‘best case’ scenario that you claim we narrow-minded military types always ignore. Let’s say the scientists get things figured out. Say that in ten years, or by 60//20 at the outside, we start building atomic power plants for your hypothetical ‘cities-in-the-Dark.’ Even if the rest of the world hasn’t discovered atomic power on its own, this sort of construction cannot be kept secret. So even if there is no other reason for war, there will be an arms race. And it will be a lot worse than anything in the Great War.”
Unnerby: “Ugh. Yes. The first to colonize the Dark would own the world.”
“Yes,” said Smith. “I’m not sure I’d trust the Crown to respect property in a situation like that. But Iknow the world would wake up enslaved or dead if some group like the Kindred conquered the Dark instead.”
It was the sort of self-generated nightmare that had driven Unnerby out of the military. “I hope this doesn’t sound disloyal, but have you considered killing this idea?” He waved ironically at Underhill. “You could think about other things, right?”
“Youhave lost the military view, haven’t you? But yes, I have considered suppressing this research. Just maybe—if dear Sherkaner keeps his mouth shut—that would be enough. If no one gets an early start on this business, there’s no way anybody will be ready to take over the Dark this time around. And maybe we’re generations away from putting this theory into practice—that’s what some of the physicists think.”
“Well, I’ll tell you,” said Underhill, “this will be a matter of engineering soon enough. Even if we don’t touch it, atomic power will be a big deal in fifteen or twenty years. Only it will be too late for power plants and sealed cities. It will be too late to conquer the Dark. All atomic power will be good for is weapons. You were talking about radium, Hrunkner. Just think what large amounts of such a substance could do as a war poison. And that’s just the most obvious thing. Basically, whatever we do, civilization will be at risk. At least if we try for it all, there could be a wonderful payoff, civilization all through the Dark.”
Smith waved unhappy agreement; Unnerby had the feeling that he was witnessing a much-repeated discussion. Victory Smith had bought into Underhill’s scheme—and sold it to the High Command. The next thirty years were going to be even more exciting than Hrunkner Unnerby had thought.
They reached the mountain village very late in the day, the last three hours of the trip covering just twenty miles through the storm. The weather broke a couple of miles short of the little town.
Five years into the New Sun, Nigh’t’Deepness was mostly rebuilt. The stone foundations had survived the initial flash and the high-speed floods. As after every Dark going back many generations, the villagers had used the armored sprouts of the forest’s first growth to build the ground floors of their homes and businesses and elementary schools. Perhaps by the year 60//10 they would have better timber and would install a second floor and—at the church—perhaps a third. For now, all was low and green, the short conical logs giving the exterior walls a scaled apearance.
Underhill insisted they pass up the kerosene service station on the main road. “I know a better place,” he said, and directed Smith to drive back along the old roadway.
They had rolled down the windows. The rain had stopped. A dry, almost cool wind swept over them. There was a break in the cloud cover and for a few minutes they could see sunlight on clouds. But the light was not the murky furnace of earlier in the day. The sun must be near setting. The tumbled clouds were bright with red and orange and alpha plaid—and beyond that the blue and ultra of clear sky. Brilliance splashed the street and buildings and foothills beyond. God the surrealist.
Sure enough, at the end of the gravel path was a low barn and a single kerosene pumping station. “This is the ‘better place,’ Sherk?” asked Unnerby.
“Well… more interesting anyway,” The other opened the door and hopped off his perch. “Let’s see if this cobber remembers me.” He walked back and forth by the car, getting the kinks out. After the long drive, his tremor was more pronounced than usual.
Smith and Unnerby got out, and after a moment the proprietor, a heavy-set fellow wearing a tool pannier, came out of the barn. He was followed by a pair of children.
“Fill it up, old cobber?” the fellow said.
Underhill grinned at him, not bothering to correct the misestimate of his age. “Sure thing.” He followed the other over to the pump. The sky was even brighter now, blue and sunset reds shining down. “Remember me, do you? I used to come through in a big red Relmeitch, right before the Dark. You were a blacksmith then.”
The other stopped, took a long stare at Underhill. “The Relmeitch I remember.” His two five-year-olds danced behind him, watching the curious visitor.
“Funny how things change, isn’t it?”
The properietor didn’t know just what Underhill was talking about, but after a few moments the two were gossiping like old pals. Yes, the proprietor liked automobiles, clearly the wave of the future and no more blacksmithing for him. Sherkaner complimented him on some job he had done for him long ago, and said it was a shame that there was a kerosene filling station on the main road now. He bet it wasn’t nearly as good at repair work as here, and had the former blacksmith considered how street advertising was being done up in Princeton these days? Smith’s security pulled into the open space beyond the road, and the proprietor scarcely noticed. Funny how Underhill could get along with almost anyone, tuning down his manias to whatever the traffic would bear.
Meantime, Smith was across the road, talking to the captain who was running her security detail. She came
