Zima Blue and Other Stories

  'So will I. I like Minla. She's a clever little girl.'

  'Yes. Minla is clever. I am proud of my daughter.'

  'You have every right to be,' Merlin said, hoping that his sincerity came across. 'I have to start what I finished, though. The ship tells me it'll be flight-ready in two or three days. It's a patch job, but it'll get us to the nearest motherbase. But there's something we need to talk about first.' Merlin reached for a shelf and handed Malkoha a tray upon which sat twelve identical copies of the translator device.

  'You will speak with more of us?'

  'I've just learned some bad news, Malkoha: news that concerns you, and your people. Before I go I want to do what I can to help. Take these translators and give them to your best people - Coucal, Jacana, the rest. Get them to wear them all the time, no matter who they're talking to. In three days I want to meet with you all.'

  Malkoha regarded the tray of translators with suspicion, as if the ranked devices were a peculiar foreign delicacy.

  'What is the bad news, Merlin?'

  'Three days isn't going to make much difference. It's better if we wait until the translation is more accurate, then there won't be any misunderstanding.'

  'We are friends,' Malkoha said, leaning forwards. 'You can tell me now.'

  'I'm afraid it won't make much sense.'

  Malkoha looked at him beseechingly. 'Please.'

  'Something is going to come out of the sky,' Merlin said. 'Like a great sword. And it's going to cut your sun in two.'

  Malkoha frowned, as if he didn't think he could possibly have understood correctly.

  'Calliope?'

  Merlin nodded gravely. 'Calliope will die. And then so will everyone on Lecythus.'

  They were all there when Merlin walked into the glass-partitioned room. Malkoha, Triller, Coucal, Jacana, Sibia, Niltava, and about half a dozen more top brass Merlin had never seen before. An administrative assistant was already entering notes into a clattering electromechanical transcription device squatting on her lap, pecking away at its stiff metal input pads with surprising speed. Tea bubbled in a fat engraved urn set in the middle of the table. An orderly had already poured tea into china cups set before each bigwig, including Merlin himself. Through the partition, on the opposite wall of the adjoining tactical room, Merlin watched another orderly make microscopic adjustments to the placement of the aerial land masses on an equal-area projection map of Lecythus. Periodically, the entire building would rattle with the droning arrival of another aircraft or dirigible.

  Malkoha coughed to bring the room to attention. 'Merlin has news for us,' he said, his translated voice coming through with more emotion than it had three days earlier. 'This is news not just for the Skyland Alliance, but for everyone on Lecythus. That includes the Aligned Territories, the Neutrals and yes, even our enemies in the Shadowland Coalition.' He beckoned with a hand in Merlin's direction, inviting him to stand.

  Merlin held up one of Minla's picture books, open at the illustration of constellations in the sky over Lecythus. 'What I have to tell you concerns these patterns,' he said. 'You see heroes, animals and monsters in the sky, traced in lines drawn between the brightest stars.'

  A new voice buzzed in his ear. He identified the speaker as Sibia, a woman of high political rank. 'These things mean nothing,' she said patiently. 'They are lines drawn between chance alignments. The ancient mind saw demons and monsters in the heavens. Our modern science tells us that the stars are very distant, and that two stars that appear close together in the sky - the two eyes of Prinia the Dragon, for example - may in reality be located at very different distances.'

  'The lines are more significant than you appreciate,' Merlin said. 'They are a pattern you have remembered across tens of thousands of years, forgetting its true meaning. They are pathways between the stars.'

  'There are no pathways in the void,' Sibia retorted. 'The void is vacuum: the same thing that makes birds suffocate when you suck air out of a glass jar.'

  'You may think it absurd,' Merlin said. 'All I can tell you is that vacuum is not as you understand it. It has structure, resilience, its own reserves of energy. And you can make part of it shear away from the rest, if you try hard enough. That's what the Waymakers did. They stretched great corridors between the stars: rivers of flowing vacuum. They reach from star to star, binding together the entire galaxy. We call it the Waynet.'

  'Is this how you arrived?' Malkoha asked.

  'My little ship could never have crossed interstellar space without it. But as I was passing close to your planet - because a strand of the Waynet runs right through this system - my ship encountered a problem. That is why Tyrant was damaged; why I had to land here and seek your assistance.'

  'And the nature of this problem?' the old man pushed.

  'My ship only discovered it three days ago, based on observations it had collated since I arrived. It appears that part of the Waynet has become loose, unshackled. There's a kink in the flow where it begins to drift out of alignment. The unshackled part is drifting towards your sun, tugged towards it by the pull of Calliope's gravitational field.'

  'You're certain of this?' Sibia asked.

  'I've had my ship check the data over and over. There's no doubt. In just over seventy years, the Waynet will cut right through Calliope, like a wire through a ball of cheese.'

  Malkoha looked hard into Merlin's eyes. 'What will happen?'

  'Probably very little to begin with, when the Waynet is still cutting through the chromosphere. But by the time it reaches the nuclear-burning core . . . I'd say all bets are off.'

  'Can it be mended? Can the Waynet be brought back into alignment?'

  'Not using any technology known to my own people. We're dealing with principles as far beyond anything on Lecythus as Tyrant is beyond one of your propeller planes.'

  Malkoha looked stricken. 'Then what can we possibly do?'

  'You can make plans to leave Lecythus. You have always known that space travel was possible: it's in your history, in the books you give to your children. If you had any doubts, I've shown it to be true. Now you must achieve it for yourselves.'

  'In seventy years?' Malkoha asked.

  'I know it sounds impossible. But you can do it. You already have flying machines. All you need to do is keep building on that achievement . . . building and building . . . until you have the means.'

  'You make it sound easy.'

  'It won't be. It'll be the hardest thing you've ever done. But I'm convinced that you can do it, if only you pull together.' Merlin looked sternly at his audience. 'That means no more wars between the Skylands and the Shadowlands. You don't have time for it. From this moment on, the entire industrial and scientific capacity of your planet will have to be directed towards one goal.'

  'You're going to help us, Merlin?' Malkoha asked. 'Aren't you?'

  Merlin's throat had become very dry. 'I'd like to, but I must leave immediately. Twenty light-years from here is a bountiful system known to the Cohort. The great vessels of my people - the swallowships - sometimes stop in this system, to replenish supplies and make repairs. The swallowships cannot use the Way, but they are very big. If I could divert just one swallowship here, it could carry fifty thousand refugees; double that if people were prepared to accept some hardship.'

  'That's still not many people,' Sibia said.

  'That's why you need to start thinking about reducing your population over the next three generations. It won't be possible to save everyone, but if you could at least ensure that the survivors are adults of breeding age . . .' Merlin trailed off, conscious of the dismayed faces staring at him. 'Look,' he said, removing a sheaf of papers from his jacket and spreading them on the table. 'I had the ship prepare these documents. This one concerns the production of wide-spectrum antibiotic medicines. This one concerns the construction of a new type of aircraft engine, one that will allow you to exceed the speed of sound and reach much higher altitudes than are now available to you. This one concerns metallurgy and
high-precision machining. This one is a plan for a two-stage liquid-fuelled rocket. You need to start learning about rocketry now, because it's the only thing that's going to get you into space.' His finger moved to the final sheet. 'This document reveals certain truths about the nature of physical reality. Energy and mass are related by this simple formula. The speed of light is an absolute constant, irrespective of the observer's motion. This diagram shows the presence of emission lines in the spectrum of hydrogen, and a mathematical formula that predicts the spacing of those lines. All this . . . stuff should help you make some progress.'

  'Is this all you can give us?' Sibia asked sceptically. 'A few pages' worth of vague sketches and cryptic formulae?'

  'They're more than most cultures ever get. I suggest you start thinking about them straight away.'

  'I will get this to Shama,' Coucal said, taking the drawing of a jet engine and preparing to slip it into his case.

  'Not before everything here is duplicated and archived,' Malkoha said firmly. 'And we must take pains to ensure none of these secrets fall into Shadowland hands.' Then he returned his attention to Merlin. 'Evidently, you have given this matter some thought.'

  'Just a bit.'

  'Is this the first time you have had to deal with a world such as ours, one that will die?'

  'I've had some prior experience of the matter. There was once a world--'

  'What happened to the place in question?' Malkoha asked, before Merlin could finish his sentence.

  'It died.'

  'How many people were saved?'

  For a moment Merlin couldn't answer. The words seemed to lodge in the back of his throat, hard as pebbles. 'There were just two survivors,' he said quietly. 'A pair of brothers.'

  The walk to Tyrant was the longest he had ever taken. Ever since he had made the decision to leave Lecythus he had rehearsed the occasion in his mind, replaying it time and again. He had always imagined the crowd cheering, daunted by the news, but not cowed, Merlin raising his fist in an encouraging salute. Nothing had prepared him for the frigid silence of his audience, their judgmental expressions as he left the low buildings of the compound, their unspoken disdain hanging in the air like a proclamation.

  Only Malkoha followed him all the way to Tyrant's boarding ramp. The old soldier had his coat drawn tight across his chest, even though the wind was still and the evening not particularly cold.

  'I'm sorry,' Merlin said, with one foot on the ramp. 'I wish I could stay.'

  'You seem like two men to me,' Malkoha said, his voice low. 'One of them is braver than he gives himself credit for. The other man still has bravery to learn.'

  'I'm not running away.'

  'But you are running from something.'

  'I have to go now. If the damage to the Waynet becomes greater, I may not even be able to reach the next system.'

  'Then you must do what you think is right. I shall be sure to give your regards to Minla. She will miss you very much.' Malkoha paused and reached into his tunic pocket. 'I almost forgot to give you this. She would have been very upset with me if I had.'

  Malkoha had given Merlin a small piece of stone, a coin-shaped sliver that must have been cut from a larger piece and then set in coloured metal so that it could be worn around the neck or wrist. Merlin examined the stone with interest, but in truth there seemed nothing remarkable about it. He'd picked up and discarded more beautiful examples a thousand times in his travels. It had been dyed red in order to emphasise the fine grain of its surface: a series of parallel lines like the pages of a book seen end-on, but with a rhythmic structure to the spacing of the lines - a widening and a narrowing - that was unlike any book Merlin had seen.

  'Tell her I appreciated it,' he said.

  'I gave the stone to my daughter. She found it pretty.'

  'How did you come by it?'

  'I thought you were in a hurry to leave.'

  Merlin's hand closed around the stone. 'You're right. I should be on my way.'

  'The stone belonged to a prisoner of mine, a man named Dowitcher. He was one of their greatest thinkers: a scientist and soldier much like myself. I admired his brilliance from afar, just as I hope he admired mine. One day, our agents captured him and brought him to the Skylands. I played no part in planning his kidnap, but I was delighted that we might at last meet on equal terms. I was convinced that, as a man of reason, he would listen to my arguments and accept the wisdom of defecting to the Skylands.'

  'Did he?'

  'Not in the slightest. He was as firmly entrenched in his convictions as I was in mine. We never became friends.'

  'So where does the stone come into it?'

  'Before he died, Dowitcher found a means to torment me. He gave me the stone and told me that he had learned something of great significance from it. Something that could change our world. Something that had cosmic significance. He was looking into the sky when he said that: almost laughing. But he would not reveal what that secret was.'

  Merlin hefted the stone once more. 'I think he was playing games with you, Malkoha.'

  'That's the conclusion I eventually reached. One day Minla took a shine to the stone - I kept it on my desk long after Dowitcher was gone - and I let her have it.'

  'And now it's mine.'

  'You mean a lot to her, Merlin. She wanted to give you something in return for the flowers. You may forget the rest of us one day, but please don't ever forget my daughter.'

  'I won't.'

  'I'm lucky,' Malkoha said, something in his tone easing, as if he was finished judging Merlin. 'I'll be dead long before your Waynet cuts into our sun. But Minla's generation won't have that luxury. They know that their world is going to end, and that every year brings that event a year nearer. They're the ones who'll spend their whole lives with that knowledge looming over them. They'll never know true happiness. I don't envy them a moment of their lives.'

  That was when something in Merlin gave way, some mental slippage that he must have felt coming for many hours without quite acknowledging it to himself. Almost before he had time to reflect on his own words he found himself saying to Malkoha, 'I'm staying.'

  The other man, perhaps wary of a trick or some misunderstanding brought about by the translator, narrowed his eyes. 'Merlin?'

  'I said I'm staying. I've changed my mind. Maybe it was what I always knew I had to do, or maybe it was all down to what you just said about Minla. But I'm not going anywhere.'

  'What I said just now,' Malkoha said, 'about there being two of you, one braver than the other . . . I know now which man I am speaking to.'

  'I don't feel brave. I feel scared.'

  'Then I know it to be true. Thank you, Merlin. Thank you for not leaving us.'

  'There's a catch,' Merlin said. 'If I'm going to be any help to you, I have to see this whole thing out.'

  Malkoha was the last to see him before he entered frostwatch. 'Twenty years,' Merlin said, indicating the settings, which had been recalibrated in Lecythus time-units. 'In all that time, you don't need to worry about me. Tyrant will take care of everything I need. If there's a problem, the ship will either wake me or it will send out the proctors to seek assistance.'

  'You have never spoken of proctors before,' Malkoha replied.

  'Small mechanical puppets. They have very little intelligence of their own, so they won't be able to help you with anything creative. But you needn't be alarmed by them.'

  'In twenty years, must we wake you?'

  'No, the ship will take care of that as well. When the time comes, the ship will allow you aboard. I may be a little groggy at first, but I'm sure you'll make allowances.'

  'I may not be around in twenty years,' Malkoha said gravely. 'I am sixty years old now.'

  'I'm sure there's still life left in you.'

  'If we should encounter a problem, a crisis--'

  'Listen to me,' Merlin said, with sudden emphasis. 'You need to understand one very important thing. I am not a god. My body is much the same as yours, our lifespans v
ery similar. That's the way we did things in the Cohort: immortality through our deeds, rather than flesh and blood. The frostwatch casket can give me a few dozen years beyond a normal human lifespan, but it can't give me eternal life. If you keep waking me, I won't live long enough to help you when things get really tough. If there is a crisis, you can knock on the ship three times. But I'd urge you not to do so unless things are truly dire.'

  'I will heed your counsel,' Malkoha said.

  'Work hard. Work harder than you've ever dreamed possible. Time is going to eat up those seventy years faster than you can blink.'

  'I know how quickly time can eat years, Merlin.'

  'I want to wake to rockets and jet aircraft. Anything less, I'm going to be a disappointed man.'