Time lag

553 A. C. C.

The Missile which landed on Yuvaskula had a ten-kilometer radius of total destruction. Thus most of the city went up in one radioactive fire-gout. In a way, the thought of men and women and little children with pet kittens, incinerated, made a trifle less pain in Elva than knowing the Old Town was gone: the cabin raised by the first men to land on Vaynamo, the ancient church of St. Yam with its stained-glass windows and gilded bell tower, the Museum of Art where she went as a girl on entranced visits, the University where she studied and where she met Karlavi — I’m a true daughter of Vaynamo, she thought with remorse. Whatever is traditional, full of memories, whatever has been looked at and been done by all the generations before me, I hold dear. The Chertkoians don’t care. They haven’t any past worth remembering.

Flames painted the northern sky red, even at this distance, as she walked among the plastishelters of the advanced base. She had flown within a hundred kilometers, using an aircar borrowed from the flagship, then landed to avoid possible missiles and hitched a ride here on a supply truck. The Chertkoian enlisted men aboard had been delighted until she showed them her pass, signed by Commander Golyev himself. Then they became cringingly respectful.

The pass was only supposed to let her move freely about in the rear areas, and she'd had enough trouble wheedling it from Bors. But no one thereafter looked closely at it. She herself was so unused to the concept of war that she didn’t stop to wonder at such lax security measures. Had she done so, she would have realized Chertkoi had never developed anything better, never having faced an enemy of comparable strength. Vaynamo certainly wasn’t, even though the planet was proving a hard-shelled opponent, with even- farmhouse a potential arsenal and even* forest road a possible death trap. Guerrilla fighters hindered the movements of an invader with armor, atomic artillery, complete control of air and space; they could not stop him.

Elva drew her dark mantle more tightly about her and crouched under a gun emplacement. A sentry went by, his helmet square against the beloved familiar face of a moon his rifle aslant across the stars. She didn’t want needless questioning. For a moment the distant blaze sprang higher, unrestful ruddy light touched her, she was afraid she had been observed. But the man continued his round.

From the air she had seen that the fire was mostly a burning forest, kindled from Yuvaskula. Those wooden houses not blown apart by the missile stood unharmed in the whitest glow. Some process must have been developed at one of the research institutes, for indurating timber, since she left...How Bors would laugh if she told him. An industry which turned out a bare minimum of vehicles, farm machinery, tools, chemicals; a science which developed fireproofing techniques and traced out ecological chains; a population which deliberately held itself static, so as to preserve its old customs and laws — presuming to make war on Chertkoi!

Even so, he was too experienced a fighter to dismiss any foe as weak without careful examination. He had been excited enough about one thing to mention it to Elva — a prisoner taken in a skirmish near Yuvaskula, when he still hoped to capture the city intact: an officer, who cracked just enough under interrogation to indicate he knew something important. But Golyev couldn’t wait around for the inquisitors to finish their work. He must go out the very next day to oversee the battle for Lempo Machine Tool Works, and Elva knew he wouldn’t return soon. The plant had been constructed underground as an economy measure, and to preserve the green parkscape above. Now its concrete warrens proved highly defensible, and were being bitterly contested. The Chertkoians meant to seize it, so they could be sure of demolishing everything. They would not leave Vaynamo any nucleus of industry. After all, the planet would have thirty-odd years to recover and rearm itself against the Third Expedition.

Left alone by Bors, Elva took an aircar and slipped off to the advanced base.

She recognized the plastishelter she wanted by its Intelligence insignia. The guard outside aimed a rifle at her. "Halt!” His boyish voice cracked over with nervousness. More than one sentry had been found in the morning with his throat cut.

‘It’s all right,” she told him. “I’m to see the prisoner Ivalo.”

“The gooze officer?” He flashed a pencil-thin beam across her face. “But you’re a — uh —”

“A Vaynamoan myself. Of course. There are a few of us along, you know. Prisoners taken last time, who’ve enlisted in your cause as guides and spies. You must have heard of me. I’m Elva. Commander Golyev’s lady.”

“Oh. Yes, mistress. Sure I have.”

“Here’s my pass.”

He squinted at it uneasily. “But, uh, may I ask what, uh, what you figure to do? I’ve got strict orders —”

Elva gave him her most confidential smile. “My own patron had the idea. The prisoner is withholding valuable information. He has been treated roughly, but resisted. Now, all at once, we’ll take the pressure off. An attractive woman of his own race...”

“I get it. Maybe he will crack. I dunno, though, mistress. These slant-eyed towheads are mean animals — begging your pardon! Go right on in. Holler if he gets rough or, or anything. ”The door was unlocked for her. Elva went on through, into a hemicylindrical room so low that she must stoop. A lighting tube switched on, showing a pallet laid across the floor.

Captain Ivalo was gray at the temples, but still tough and supple. His face had gone haggard, sunken eyes and a stubble of beard; his garments were tom and filthy. When he looked up, coining awake, he was too exhausted to show much surprise. “What now?” he said in dull Chertkoian. “What are you going to try next?”

Elva answered in Vaynamoan (oh, God, it was a year and a half, her own time, nearly seventeen years cosmic time, since she had uttered a word to anyone from her planet): “Be quiet, I beg you. We mustn't be suspected. ”

He sat up. “Who are you?” he snapped. His own Vaynamoan accent was faintly pedantic; he must be a teacher or scientist in that peacetime life which now seemed so distant. “A collaborator? I understand there are some. Even barrel must hold a few rotten apples. I suppose.”

She sat down on the floor near him, hugged her knees and stared at the curving wall. “I don't know what to call myself,” she said tonelessly. “I'm with them, yes. But they captured me the last time.”

He whistled, a soft note. One hand reached out, not altogether steady, and stopped short of touching her. “I was young then,” he said. ‘But I remember. Do I know your family?”

“Maybe. I'm Elva, daughter of Byarmo, the Magnate of Ruuyalka. My husband was Karlavi, the Freeholder of Tervola.” Suddenly she couldn't stay controlled. She grasped his arm so hard that her nails drew blood. “Do you know what became of my son? His name was Hauki. I got him away, in care of an Alfa servant. Hauki. Karlavi’s son, Freeholder of Tervola. Do you know?”

He disengaged himself as gently as possible and shook his head. I’m sorry. I've heard of both places, but only as names. I'm from the Aakinen Islands myself.” Her head drooped.

“Ivalo is my name,” he said clumsily.

“I know.”

“What?”

“Listen.” She raised her eyes to him. They were quite dry. “I've been told you have important information.”

He bridled. “If you think —”

“No. Please listen. Here.” She fumbled in a pocket of her gown. At last her fingers closed on the vial. She held it out to him. “An antiseptic. But the label says it's very poisonous if taken internally. I brought it for you. ”

He stared at her for a long while.

“It’s all I can do,” she mumbled, looking away again.

He took the bottle and turned it over and over in his hands. The night grew silent around them.

Finally he asked. “Won't you suffer for this?”

“Not too much.”

“Wait… If you could get in here, you can surely escape completely. Our troops can’t be far off. Or any fanner hereabouts will hide vou. ”

She shook her head. “No. I’ll stay with them. Maybe I can help in some other small way. What else has there been to keep me alive, but the hope of — It wouldn’t be any better, living here, if we’re all conquered. There’s to be a final attack, three decades hence. Do you know that?”

“Yes. Our side takes prisoners too, and quizzes them. The first episode puzzled us. Many thought it had only been a raid by — what’s the word? — by pirates. But now we know they really do intend to take our planet away.”

“You must have developed some good linguists,” she said, seeking impersonality. “To be able to talk with your prisoners. Of course, you yourself, after capture, could be educated by the hypnopede.”

“The what?”

“The language-teaching machine.”

“Oh, yes, the enemy do have them, don’t they? But we do too. After the first raid, those who thought there was a danger the aliens might come back set about developing such machines. I knew Chertkoian weeks before my own capture.”

“I wish I could help you escape,” she said dully. But I don’t know how. That bottle is all I can do. Isn’t it?”

“Yes.” He regarded the thing with a fascination.

“My patron — Golyev himself — said his men would rip you open to get your knowledge. So I thought —”

“You’re very kind,” Ivalo grimaced, as if he had tasted something foul. “But your act may turn out pointless. I don’t know anything useful. I wasn’t even sworn to secrecy about what I do know. Why've I held out, then? Don’t ask me. Stubbornness. Anger. Or just hating to admit that my people — our people, damn it! — that they could be so weak and foolish.”

“What?” Her glance jerked up to him.

“They could win the war at a stroke,” he said. “They won’t. They’d rather die, and let their children be enslaved by the Third Expedition.”

“What do you mean?” She crouched to hands and knees, bowstring-tense.

He shrugged. “I told you, a number of people of Vaynamo took the previous invasion at its word, that it was the vanguard of a conquering army. There was no official action. How could there be, with a government as feeble as ours? But some of the research biologists —”

Not a plague!”

“Yes. Mutated from the local coryzoid virus. Incubation period, approximately one month, during which time it’s contagious. Vaccination is still effective two weeks after exposure, so all our people could be safeguarded. But the Chertkoians would take the disease back with them. Estimated deaths, ninety percent of the race.”

“But —”

“That's where the government did step in,” he said with bitterness. “The information was suppressed. The virus cultures were destroyed. The theory was, even to save ourselves we couldn't do such a thing.”

Elva felt the tautness leave her. She sagged. She had seen small children on Chertkoi too.

“They're right, of course,” she said wearily.

“Perhaps. Perhaps. And yet we'll be overrun and butchered or reduced to serfdom. Won’t we? Our forests will be cut down, our mines gutted, our poor Alfavala exterminated...To hell with it.” Ivalo gazed at the poison vial. “I don't have any scientific data, I’m not a virologist. It can't do any military harm to tell the Chertkoians. But I’ve seen what they've done to us. I would give diem die sickness.”

I wouldn’t.” Elva bit her lip.

He regarded her for a long time. “Won’t you escape? Never mind being a planetary heroine. There's nothing you can do. The invaders will go home when they've wrecked all our industry. They won't come again for thirty years. You can be free most of your life.”

“You forget,” she said, “that if I leave with them, and come back, the time for me will only have been one or two years. ” She sighed. “I can’t help make ready for the next battle. I’m just a woman. Untrained. While maybe... oh. if nothing else, there'll be more Vaynamoan prisoners brought to Chertkoi. I have a tiny bit of influence. Maybe I can help them.”

Ivalo considered the poison. “I was about to use this anyway,” he muttered. “I didn't think staying alive was worth the trouble. But now — if you can — No.” He gave the vial back to her. “I thank you, my lady.”

“I have an idea,” she said, with a hint of color in her voice. “Go ahead and tell them what you know. Pretend I talked you into it. Then I might be able to get you exchanged. It's barely possible.”

“Oh, perhaps,” he said, not believing. “I’ll try.”

She rose to go. “If you are set free,” she stammered, “will you make a visit to Tervola? Will you find Hauki, Karlavi’s son, and tell him you saw me? If he's alive.”