They came to the meeting shortly after midnight, separately and secretly. Professor Serran Coe was the first to arrive, and he greeted the other three with his finger to his lips. Not a word was spoken until they were in the basement, and even then, with the university abandoned above them and a dozen locked doors between themselves and the outside world, they were reluctant to name the things they were talking about.
“Has he gone?” whispered Professor Surgeon Lin Lin, a small, sharp-eyed woman with night-black hair.
Serran Coe nodded, and a flicker of regret crossed his face. “Two weeks ago. The ship sailed under cover of darkness.”
Ariel Fetch leaned forward, her long earrings tinkling. “Did you give him the instruction? The one we agreed upon?”
“I built a compulsion into his circuits,” said Serran Coe. “It will come into play when he crosses the equator on the return voyage.”
“If there is a return voyage,” growled Admiral Cray, who was Lin Lin’s husband.
The others began to protest, but the admiral spoke over them. “Nothing is certain, and you cannot tell me otherwise. I have just learned that five of our best ships were sunk last night, and their officers murdered! By their own crews, mind you, who then deserted en masse to join the Anti-Machinists.” The admiral’s waxed mustache twitched in disgust. “This whole thing is spreading quicker than anyone thought possible. There are even rumors that the government is teetering! And what do we four do about it? We run, we hide, we send a mechanical child to the far southern ice, hoping that one day he will return and be compelled to seek out—”
“Hush!” said Lin Lin, and her husband broke off his rant. The building above them creaked ominously.
“It is only the wind,” said Serran Coe in a tired voice. “It has been rising all week.”
The admiral grumbled, “Look at us, jumping at shadows! Why are we not out there fighting the mobs?”
His question momentarily silenced the other three. Then Ariel Fetch sighed and said, “You may be a fighter, Admiral, but we are not. And even if we were, we could not turn back the Anti-Machinists. Their time has come. All we can do is try to preserve as much knowledge as we can, so it is there when people want it again.”
“Pah!” said the admiral. “They will never want it again! They are fools and criminals—”
His wife interrupted him. “Then you should be glad that we are leaving them behind.”
Her words fell like a blow on the tiny gathering. Serran Coe loosened his stiff white collar and said, “You are going to do it? I thought you might change your minds. It is so—extreme.”
“Extreme it may be,” said Lin Lin, sitting up very straight, “but I refuse to live under the rule of the Anti-Machinists, and I am not the only one who thinks that way. Besides, the medical papers we are taking with us must be preserved for the future. Even your mechanical child does not know everything.”
“When will you go?”
Lin Lin’s calm voice gave no hint of what lay ahead. “Another week, at least. It will take that long to gather family and friends.” She smiled wryly at her husband. “Which means there is still time for a little fighting if you wish it, dearest.”
The admiral took a deep breath through his nose—and let it out again. “Nay,” he said. “Nay, you are right. We must follow our plans to the very end. I just hope—” He scrubbed his fists against his knees until the blue cloth crumpled. “I just hope it is worth it.”