Doctor Who_ Hope - Mark Clapham [87]
If Fitz had any doubts that this trip was as much about showmanship as diplomacy, they had been dispelled as the submarine departed from its now regular docking place by the Pier. Instead of diving beneath the surface, the sub extended two tall, robust metal towers from its deck; these had partially unfurled, rotor blades spreading out above their heads. The blades had begun to whirl, and the sub had lifted up out of the water, Silver and his party still standing on the deck. The subcopter stayed at a reasonably low altitude, moving at a leisurely speed across the sea. Silvers intention was clearly to glide majestically into view as they approached Persistence, leisurely and regally arriving like royalty at some grand social occasion. Fitz supposed that, by Endpoint standards, Silver probably was royalty.
Miraso joined him at the railing.
So, have you ever been to Persistence before? Fitz asked, trying to make polite conversation.
Miraso shook her head. Up until today travel between communities has been difficult, long and dangerous. I never had to take the risk. Now we get to travel like this. She made a sweeping gesture, the feyness of the movement suggesting a difficulty in grasping their surreal situation.
When Persistence appeared over the horizon, it initially didnt seem to be that different from Hope, at least to Fitzs uneducated eyes. But as they got nearer and nearer to this other community Fitz could increasingly see the differences. Persistence was a flatter, smaller community than Hope, consisting of buildings only a few storeys high. Unlike Hope, there were a number of windmilltype constructions jutting above the squat buildings. When they reached the edge of the community the subcopter didnt stop, but instead flew over the town itself. They passed a number of ornate, almost ecclesiastical, buildings scattered between the shorter buildings and the windmills. Fitz by now had a fairly good idea of what he thought Persistence was like; a small town to Hopes urban sprawl, where tall buildings were a sign of power rather than a necessity, where the people lived off limited power supplies reliant on the weather. It almost seemed idyllic, although Fitz was fully aware that it wouldnt have been all that nice three days before, when the skies still rained acid and the air scorched lungs and eyes. Back then, this simple life would have been a constant struggle. No wonder it was called Persistence.
The subcopter halted near a domed structure in the centre of town, hovering over an adjacent square. Robed men presumably the town elders, or the good burghers or whatever, thought Fitz gathered beneath them at the doors to the domed building, clothes flapping as the ships rotor blades tore up a storm. While Fitz and Miraso clambered down rope ladders to reach the square, Silver simply jumped over the side, leaving cracks in the panelled floor where he landed. The noise of Silvers impact gave Fitz the shock of his life as he tried to get down the ladder without falling.
Fitz had been right about the robed men they were some form of council, and as Fitz and Miraso approached the councillors were nervously introducing themselves to Silver, who was nodding thoughtfully at the mention of each name, as if noting them on a mental hit list. Silver stopped one of the councillors, making a great point of introducing Miraso and Fitz as representatives of, respectively, the Endpointers and the newly rediscovered human race. The councillors seemed unusually impressed by Fitz, admiring his straggly hair and wonky eyebrows. Fitz felt strangely touched.
They were led through to the centre of the dome, an amphitheatretype room where Silver was to address the gathered leaders of Persistence. Fitz and Miraso took seats either side of the podium, which Silver stepped up to.
People of Persistence, said Silver,