This Day All Gods Die Part 28

Min's a.s.sent was provisional at best; but Morn found that she was content with it.

Captain Ubikwe Shrugged. "In that case, Ensign Hyland," he remarked in a ba.s.s rumble, "I think you'd better tell the ship we're about to go into tach."

Davies shook his head. "d.a.m.n it," he protested under his breath. He seemed unsure of himself in some way. And everything Morn and Angus and Min did appeared to increase his doubt. He peered at the handgun in his fist, grimaced, and abruptly shoved it into one of his pockets. "Why didn't you just say so? Why did we have to go through all this?"

Morn didn't respond. She was in command now; more than she'd ever been before. She had her duties to think about.

"Prepare for tach, helm," she ordered, knowing she would be obeyed. "Data, warn the rest of the ship that we're going to drop internal spin." Around Earth, s.p.a.ce was usually too busy to tolerate navigational errors and poor maneuverability.

A moment later she added, "Communications, prepare Vector Shaheed's message for immediate transmission. I want to start broadcasting as soon as we resume tard."

Min c.o.c.ked an eyebrow. "I wouldn't do that if I were you," she put in quickly.

Angus snorted. "I'm sure you wouldn't."

"Why not?" Morn asked.

The ED director gave her a bleak smile. "I think it's called 'look before you leap.' You can't know what you're getting into. h.e.l.l, I don't. How could you? It won't hurt you to take a few readings, listen to the transmission traffic, before you make up your mind."

"h.e.l.l, yes," Angus sneered. "That way you can still hope something'll happen to stop us."

But Morn didn't hesitate. "All right." She believed that in some oblique, unspoken way Min was on her side. "Communications, hold that broadcast for the time being."

Once the data officer-her name was Bydell-had alerted the ship, Morn tapped keys to disengage internal spin. Hydraulic systems eased g out of the cruiser as her rotation slid to a stop within her hulls. Except for the m.u.f.fled sighing of the pumps and servos, the process should have been silent. But this time it wasn't. A faint grinding like a visceral shudder carried briefly through the bulkheads. Spin ended with a tangible jolt.

Punisher's core displacement was getting worse. core displacement was getting worse.

Min Donner and Captain Ubikwe took g-seats along the walls, belted themselves in. Davies followed their example. Mikka glared miserably at Ciro for a moment, then kicked off He nodded as she swore at him, closed his belts, then coasted to a seat herself.

Only Angus remained standing. Anch.o.r.ed on the edge of the command board with a cyborg's strength, he waited where he was, watching the display screens and the quick scroll of the readouts. His stance was charged and expectant, as if he were guarding Morn-or guarding against her.

"Fifteen seconds to tach," Patrice announced.

"Fifteen seconds to Earth," Davies muttered to himself. "If that's really where we end up."

Ten.

Instinctively Morn held her breath. In the measureless instant when the gap field dislocated her across the light-years, she wouldn't feel anything: no one ever did. The discontinuity which had exposed the flaw of gap-sickness in her brain took place in a realm of physics which human senses couldn't register. And yet most people were like her: they held their breath, or tensed in some other way. Nerves and ganglia reacted with an almost cellular fear-a dread like humankind's genetic abhorrence of the Amnion-to the prospect of being torn without transition from one place to another billions of k apart.

Five.

Scan, data, and helm maintained a stream of status reports, their voices low.

Nothing changed until Porson shouted frantically from scan that Punisher Punisher had dropped short of her intended coordinates in UMCPHQ's dedicated gap range by 40,000 k. And had dropped short of her intended coordinates in UMCPHQ's dedicated gap range by 40,000 k. And Calm Horizons Calm Horizons was there ahead of her. was there ahead of her.

WARDEN.

Warden rode in the control cabin of his shuttle as the small craft carried him out toward the impending bulk of the Amnion defensive. There was nothing for him to do in the s.p.a.ce he was supposed to occupy-the so-called director's cabin-and he couldn't bear to sit idle. He didn't want to spend the time watching some remorseless chronometer tick his life away.

Unfortunately he had no duties here, either. His crew was more than competent for the simple task of ferrying him out to Calm Horizons. Calm Horizons. Nevertheless he could occupy himself by studying the scan displays and command readouts; following the slow concentration of his ships around the defensive; a.n.a.lyzing the Amnioni's heavy profile for signs of damage or weakness. Nevertheless he could occupy himself by studying the scan displays and command readouts; following the slow concentration of his ships around the defensive; a.n.a.lyzing the Amnioni's heavy profile for signs of damage or weakness.

As a matter of course the shuttle's instruments were linked to Earth's scan net. He could watch for Punisher Punisher and and Trumpet Trumpet.

The longer they took to arrive, the weaker Calm Horizons' Calm Horizons' position would become. Eventually position would become. Eventually Sledgehammer Sledgehammer would be in place to unleash the force of her guns. Then Marc Bator. But after that she would die quickly. Even UMCPHQ might survive the battle. would be in place to unleash the force of her guns. Then Marc Bator. But after that she would die quickly. Even UMCPHQ might survive the battle.

If Trumpet Trumpet stayed away long enough, stayed away long enough, Calm Horizons Calm Horizons would have nothing left to bargain with except the Council's survival-and Warden's life. would have nothing left to bargain with except the Council's survival-and Warden's life.

Angus' programming had been written to restrict the conditions under which he could return to Earth. He couldn't make that decision for himself: it had to be imposed on him by some authority his datacore recognized. If Nick Succorso didn't order it-and if Trumpet Trumpet managed to evade managed to evade Punisher Punisher, so that Min Donner had no chance to intervene-Angus might stay away indefinitely.

In another life-a saner, cleaner existence-Warden would have been praying with all his heart to see no sign of Trumpet Trumpet on the scan net. on the scan net.

In this life, however, his prayers were of another kind.

He needed Morn. Here. Now.

Why else had he undermined Holt's direct orders by giving Morn and Davies the means to oppose Nick?-the means to return to Earth? At tremendous cost he'd created a window of vulnerability for Holt Fasner: a small, elusive gap in the Dragon's normally impregnable defenses. But Koina wouldn't be able to hold that window open long. Without Morn-and without concrete evidence from either Hashi or Chief Mandich-she would eventually fail.

And if the Council died, the outcome of this crisis might be the exact opposite of the one Warden had pursued with so much pain. Holt himself might well become the government. At present there was no other power which could make decisions for humankind in a time of war. If Marc Vestabule lost what he hoped to gain by negotiating with Warden, the consequences for humanity would be catastrophic.

Despite his sworn duty to oppose the Amnion, Warden Dios hoped desperately that Trumpet Trumpet would arrive soon. And that the gap scout's people would feel compelled to comply with Vestabule's demands. would arrive soon. And that the gap scout's people would feel compelled to comply with Vestabule's demands.

Therefore he needed Min. He might convince himself that he had the right and the power to command Morn Hyland; but he had no authority over her son-or Vector Shaheed. And he could no longer trust Angus' priority-codes. If Davies or Morn had freed themselves from Nick, they would be able to countermand any order Warden gave Angus.

Warden needed Min to make Trumpet's Trumpet's people obey him. people obey him.

Still the scan net gave no hint of Punisher Punisher or the gap scout. Gunboats and pocket cruisers tightened their paltry cordon around the Amnioni. or the gap scout. Gunboats and pocket cruisers tightened their paltry cordon around the Amnioni. Adventurous Adventurous lumbered toward the defense from the far side of the planet. Barring some disaster, lumbered toward the defense from the far side of the planet. Barring some disaster, Valor Valor would be in range soon. The net showed would be in range soon. The net showed Sledgehammer Sledgehammer on her Earth-bound burn. But on her Earth-bound burn. But Punisher Punisher and and Trumpet Trumpet were beyond the reach of Earth's instruments anywhere in the solar system. were beyond the reach of Earth's instruments anywhere in the solar system.

The shuttle had a crew of three: command, scan, communications. At other times the UMCP director traveled with aides and guards; his own communications techs; Various UMCP officers. But for this trip he'd left everyone except the crew behind. Jeopardizing the smallest possible number of lives- Abruptly command cleared his throat. "Twenty minutes, Director. They've a.s.signed us a docking port. I can put it on a screen if you want to see it."

Warden shook his head. He didn't care what the port looked like. After a moment he asked communications, "Is CEO Fasner still yelling at us?"

"Home Office is, Director," communications answered. "Not the CEO in person. He's given up."

"Have they bothered to mention what he wants?"

"You're ordered to reply, Director. That's all."

"Too bad," Warden muttered sardonically. "It might have been interesting to hear him tell me I'm fired. If I had that on record, he would have trouble explaining it to the Council."

Legally Holt could fire the UMCP director. But the timing would look bad; very bad. The Members might think that Holt Fasner didn't want Warden to keep them alive.

Warden wasn't willing to take the risk, however. Holt might give him orders which would make sense to the Council, but which Warden couldn't or wouldn't obey. Then Holt would have an excuse he could hide behind for replacing Warden.

"Contact HO once I board Calm Horizons," Calm Horizons," Warden instructed communications. "Tell the CEO that under the War Powers provisions of the UMCP charter I'm not authorized-much less required-to discuss my actions with civilians." law," he admitted to his crew. "But maybe it'll make Holt leave you alone." Warden instructed communications. "Tell the CEO that under the War Powers provisions of the UMCP charter I'm not authorized-much less required-to discuss my actions with civilians." law," he admitted to his crew. "But maybe it'll make Holt leave you alone."

The chronometer gave him eighteen minutes.

Punisher and and Trumpet Trumpet weren't anywhere on the net. weren't anywhere on the net.

Command squirmed as if he sat on an uncomfortable secret. "I think you should take a look at the docking port, Director."

Warden frowned over a twist of apprehension. "Why is that?" The man's awkwardness worried him. Had he missed something?

Command glanced quickly at scan. Scan jerked a nod of agreement.

"Just let me show you, Director," command said.

Warden folded his arms over his chest to contain his anxiety. "So show me."

Quickly command tapped keys. In a moment net schematics scrolled off the main display, and were replaced by a tight video image of Calm Horizons' Calm Horizons' flank. Under other circ.u.mstances there would have been nothing to see. The darkness of s.p.a.ce was almost absolute. But the defensive had already lit her docking lamps. A wash of incandescence etched her knurled, inhuman skin. flank. Under other circ.u.mstances there would have been nothing to see. The darkness of s.p.a.ce was almost absolute. But the defensive had already lit her docking lamps. A wash of incandescence etched her knurled, inhuman skin.

Warden studied the display because that was what command and scan-and communications?-wanted him to do.

"It's a docking port," he observed impersonally, as if what he saw had nothing to do with him. "Their airlock doesn't fit ours. Neither do their grapples and clamps. But that looks like an adjustable seal. And we can flex our own. I won't need an EVA suit." He c.o.c.ked an eyebrow at command. "What else do you want me to notice?"

"There, sir." With a twitch of his hand, command indicated an imprecise bulge at the edge of the screen; the edge of the light. "That's her proton gun. The emitter."

Sixteen minutes.

"So?" Warden prodded.

Command turned to scan for help.

"They have us on targ, Director," scan put in stiffly. "Guns like theirs, they could fry us in seconds. But if we wait until we're close-another ten minutes-we'll be under their fire horizon. We could veer off, burn-"

"We could crash into that emitter, sir," command finished. "Wreck it."

Wreck- Oh, s.h.i.t. New fears cut at Warden's heart. For several seconds he couldn't respond. A clean death-A chance to leave Holt Fasner and the corruption of the UMCP and humankind's future to someone else; someone who didn't have so much shame feeding like a corrosive on his lacerated conscience. Veer off, burn, crash. Die like a hero. Let Morn and Angus, Hashi and Min and Koina pick up the pieces if they could.

But if he did that-he, Warden Dios, who had clawed these wounds into his own soul-there would be nothing clean about it. It would be a coward's death: an abandonment of all the people who had the most right to rely on him.

For him no death would ever be clean unless he took Holt Fasner down with him.

At last he regained his voice. "And what happens to us?" he asked gruffly.

"Well, Director"-command swallowed a lump of discomfort-"we're dead, I guess. This craft wasn't built for collision.

"But I'm not sure you're ever coming back, sir," he went on. "I'm not even sure we are. Once you're aboard, they can finish us pretty easily." He hesitated, then faced Warden squarely. "It might be more useful to take out their proton gun."

Warden paused as if to consider the idea. "If we do that, we'll save the Council," he mused. "So far, so good. But we'll kill UMCPHQ. Any other station in range will take damage. Some of our ships will die." For the sake of his crew, he made an effort to sound clear; sure. "If we burn that defensive's bridges for her, she won't have any choice. She'll have to hurt us as much as she can before she dies."

He wanted to stop there. The strain of projecting the confidence his people needed hurt him. But the shrouded fear in scan's eyes, and the stubborn set of command's jaw, told him that he had to continue.

"I have a pretty good idea what she wants," he stated. "And I think I know how to deal with it. If I'm right, I can keep almost all of us alive. Whether or not I come back"-he shrugged-"isn't germane."

Intending rea.s.surance, he added, "You're safe enough. Calm Horizons Calm Horizons doesn't want to provoke a fight. She won't attack you." doesn't want to provoke a fight. She won't attack you."

But command reacted with fl.u.s.tered indignation, as if Warden had accused him of cowardice. "That isn't what I-"

Warden winced inwardly. "I know," he interrupted. "If we're going to die anyway, we all want to make it count. Don't you think I feel the same? But suicide is easy." He forced an edge into his voice. "The job we swore to do is a little harder.

"I want to make this clear. You're going to deliver me safely to that docking port. And then you're going back to UMCPHQ. Without Without ramming that proton emitter. Or anything else. You do your job. I'll do mine. And maybe"-just maybe-"something good will come out of all this." ramming that proton emitter. Or anything else. You do your job. I'll do mine. And maybe"-just maybe-"something good will come out of all this."

Scan shrugged. After a moment command lowered his eyes and looked away. "Aye, sir," he said softly. "You can rely on us."

He may have meant, We're relying on you.

Thirteen minutes.

Warden hugged his chest tighter. "I know."

Too many people with too many needs relied on him. And as soon as he pa.s.sed the threshold of Calm Horizons' Calm Horizons' airlock, he would be almost helpless to do anything about it. airlock, he would be almost helpless to do anything about it.

The time seemed to pa.s.s swiftly, consumed by Punisher's Punisher's absence, and absence, and Trumpet's. Trumpet's. Communications exchanged stilted approach protocols and confirmations with the Amnioni. By careful degrees the shuttle nudged herself against the docking port. Communications exchanged stilted approach protocols and confirmations with the Amnioni. By careful degrees the shuttle nudged herself against the docking port.

When the small craft's external seals showed green, Warden Dios left his g-seat to face the doom which he'd brought down on his own planet; his own people.

His preparations were simple. From his pocket he took the black capsule and breathing mask Hashi had given him. The capsule he tucked into his mouth between his cheek and gum. Then he inspected the mask and set its straps over his head so that it rode on his forehead, ready to be pulled down over his nose and mouth when he needed it.

Before he left the control cabin, he recorded commendations for his three officers in the shuttle's log. Contrary to his normal practice, he returned their stiff salutes. Then he turned his back on their clenched faces and headed for the airlock.

He didn't speak to his crew again, or to Calm Horizons. Calm Horizons. Words would have been wasted. Communications negotiated the cycling of the airlocks for him; established the sequence. Scan verified the integrity of the seals. For one terrible moment as the threshold ahead of him opened, he feared that his courage would fail. He'd never seen an Amnioni in person. Apart from old Captain Vertigus, no one he knew had ever been aboard an Amnion vessel. And Morn and Angus deserved better than this from him. Humankind deserved better- Words would have been wasted. Communications negotiated the cycling of the airlocks for him; established the sequence. Scan verified the integrity of the seals. For one terrible moment as the threshold ahead of him opened, he feared that his courage would fail. He'd never seen an Amnioni in person. Apart from old Captain Vertigus, no one he knew had ever been aboard an Amnion vessel. And Morn and Angus deserved better than this from him. Humankind deserved better- But Trumpet's Trumpet's people were weapons which he'd forged with his own hands. He'd set them in motion-and then he'd set them free. Now he had to trust them, for good or ill. people were weapons which he'd forged with his own hands. He'd set them in motion-and then he'd set them free. Now he had to trust them, for good or ill.

Settling his mask over his mouth to protect his lungs from the acrid atmosphere the Amnion preferred, he crossed the airlock of his shuttle into Calm Horizons Calm Horizons.

Sulfurous light appeared to cloy and cling on the odd textures of the walls, so that the grown metal surfaces seemed lambent with energy and intention. The sight made his prosthesis ache in its socket. He had the impression that he'd stepped into one of the antechambers of h.e.l.l.

The voice of communications reached him from the shuttle's airlock speaker, informing him that the locks were about to close. This was his last chance to flee and die; to spare himself the outcome of his own choices. But he knew better. The shame of his self-inflicted wounds went with him everywhere: there was no escape from it. Instead of retreating, he watched the defensive's airlock iris shut. Then he turned to confront what lay ahead.

Like the outer door, the inner opened like an iris, admitting him to the alien body of the ship. As he crossed the threshold, he caught the first handgrip he could find so that he wouldn't float away; out of control.

Casually adrift in the absence of g, three figures waited for him. Just for a moment, however, he refused to look at them. While he struggled to gather his courage, he glanced around at the hold to which the docking port gave access.

The strong hue of sulfur in the light seemed to thicken the air, throb on the bulkheads. The huge chamber may have been meant for cargo: he saw irregular structures which resembled gantries, festooned with cables like rough vines; stubby transport sleds on magnetic tracks. But the way the Amnion used s.p.a.ce made no sense to him. Even for a vessel that couldn't generate internal g, the arrangement of machines and equipment looked incoherent to his human eyes. Was it actually possible to load cargo this way?

Determinedly he distracted himself from panic with simple curiosity until one of the three figures spoke.

"Warden Dios." Despite the absence of thrust distortion, Warden recognized the voice. "I am Marc Vestabule."

Holding his breath in autonomic trepidation, Warden turned.

Two of them might have been clones of each other. They wore no clothes: crusted skin the color of oxidation apparently took the place of apparel. The general shape of their bodies was hominoid. Heads marked with eyes and mouths sat atop torsos with arms and legs. Still there was nothing even remotely human about them. As far as Warden could tell, they had four eyes apiece, s.p.a.ced around their heads so that they could see in all directions. Teeth as keen as daggers crowded their lipless mouths. Each had three arms and legs positioned on their torsos for near-ideal utility-and agility-in zero g.

They carried no weapons because they needed none. They were at home here; obviously capable of outmaneuvering him. And the crusted ma.s.s of their heavy bodies conveyed an impression of tremendous strength. They projected lurid IR auras which told him nothing. He couldn't read their emanations.

They must have been guards for Marc Vestabule, who scarcely resembled them. He was human enough to make Warden's skin crawl.