The Final Reflection by Ford John M

Author:Ford, John M. [Ford, John M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: SF
ISBN: 9780671038533
Publisher: Pocket
Published: 1984-01-01T08:00:00+00:00

The sun was rising behind the city called Atlanta. The entire city seemed to be built of glass and crystal and bright metal, cylindrical columns and truncated pyramids endlessly reflecting one another, all tied together with flying bridges at every level. Morning light colored all the glass a pale red: Krenn thought of Dr. Tagore’s comment, of the city burning. A century before nuclears, the Human said, however long ago that was. It was a Vulcan calculation that a culture’s lifespan was either some fifty years after basic fission was discovered, or else indefinite.

There were still Humans at the base of the guideway as the train hurtled into the city, now holding colored flags instead of torches. Colonel Rabinowich said, “We’ll be going underground a few klicks before the terminal. And an identical train will come out of the southbound pipe. We’d have done it at the Baton Rouge shunt, but there wasn’t time.”

“And the change of course?” Dr. Tagore said.

“Let ’em think we tried to fool ’em, and failed.”

“An excellent strategy,” Krenn said, careful to draw no comparisons with Klingon methods, though any Imperial officer would have hailed the trick. “You honor your craft and your line.” He understood well now which of the leader’s paths she had mastered: the way of greater cunning.

Rabinowich cast a side look at Dr. Tagore, who sat across the dining car, placidly drinking coffee. He had had no sleep, Krenn knew. Admiral van Diemen was in the sleeping car now.

The Colonel said, “Thank you, Captain,” in her customary soft-coarse voice. “That’s more than Starfleet usually gives us dirtballers.”

The terrain rose past the train. Interior lights came on, and then the windows went black, except for flashes of light that were gone before the eye could catch what was illuminated.

“Sit down, please, Captain, Commander,” the Colonel said, going to a seat herself; Dr. Tagore gulped the last of his coffee, held tight to the ceramic cup. “Gravitic braking,” Rabinowich said.

It was not a bad deceleration—certainly nothing like a combat maneuver when the deckplates were already straining—but Krenn was glad of the chair as invisible drag pulled him toward the front of the train.

In less than two local minutes they were at a full stop. Cool blue lights showed a platform beyond the windows, and more soldiers.

“All out,” Dr. Tagore said lightly, “change here for the Southern Crescent.”

Colonel Rabinowich looked at the Ambassador for a moment, then said, “Your escort to the hotel’s on the platform. We’ll be meeting you at a different platform: right now we’ve got to get the numbers scraped off this train and a different set on. Enjoy your breakfast.”

“You aren’t coming with us?” Krenn said. “Or the Admiral?”

“Or the Ambassador,” Dr. Tagore said.

Rabinowich paused. “You must—no, of course you don’t know. The invitation wasn’t to us. Grandisson doesn’t like Starfleet people.”

“You are not with Starfleet.”

“Never been off Earth, in fact. Max Grandisson doesn’t like me for a reason I thought was extinct until I was twenty-eight years old.” She gave a flat smile.

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