This Day All Gods Die Part 62

h.e.l.l, the drug meant for him might not be a mutagen at all. It might be-His heart hammered as he realized the peril. It might be a nerve-block; an alien version of cat; something to paralyze him so that the Amnion could study him at their leisure.

"I don't think I can do this, Davies," Vector croaked. The vibration of fear in his voice sawed against his impulse to resist. But it wasn't the hypo that scared him.

"Do it," Davies demanded in panic. it," Davies demanded in panic.

Hesitantly Vector removed one of his gloves and tucked it into his belt. His hand seemed to drift away from him of its own accord, extending itself to the nearest Amnioni.

Davies had promised himself that he would wait until after he'd been given the injection-until after the Amnion relaxed because they felt sure of him. Angus needed the time. But the danger had suddenly become too great. As his designated victimizer approached him, he threw out all his plans.

He opened his bare hand, slipped one handle of his monofilament line between his fingers.

Too soon, too soon too soon, he flung himself into motion.

While the Amnioni reached its hypo toward him, he whipped out the line so that its weighted end lashed it around the creature's wrist. Then he leaped at the alien, planted his boots in the center of its chest, and heaved on the line with all his might.

His elevated endocrine system supplied more force than his muscles naturally possessed. And the polysilicate chips crusting the line were as sharp as scalpels. The line tore through tissue and bone; rip-cut the Amnioni's hand off.

From the rent stump a geyser of greenish blood sprayed the air, formed a weightless fountain across the acrid light; so much blood a man could have drowned in it. It splashed heavily onto the front of his EVA suit, half blinded his faceplate.

The Amnioni gave out a hoa.r.s.e wail like a klaxon of pain. Shrill as anguish, the sound rang in his helmet. Nevertheless the creature grappled for him with other arms; struggled to capture him while its life gushed out of it.

For an instant he ignored the clutch; fought it only enough to turn in the air and slash a kick at the severed hand-at the hypo. His boot shattered the hypo, added drugs or mutagens to the spume of blood.

Vector hadn't moved. He stood as if he were frozen in shock.

At once Davies turned again, into the Amnioni's grasp. Two arms caught him, three, wrapped around him, hugged him close. He used the creature's pressure as well as his own to pull his line toward the creature's head; loop it around the creature's neck.

But he had no leverage now. Human muscle couldn't match Amnion. The arms closed on him; began to crush him. The alien should have been growing weaker by the second, yet it remained powerful enough to break his bones.

He heard a distant crumpling noise-a m.u.f.fled explosion; the kind of sound that should have been followed by decompression alerts. But if Calm Horizons Calm Horizons cried a warning he couldn't hear it; or didn't understand it. cried a warning he couldn't hear it; or didn't understand it.

The alien arms squeezed harder.

Without transition Warden appeared at the Amnioni's back. Strong as stones, his hands gripped the creature's head. His fingers gouged more pain into its eyes.

Its wailing scaled higher. Its embrace loosened.

Davies couldn't break free, but he could shift backward. Jamming his free hand to the keypad on his chest, he activated his suit jets.

A waldo harness around his hips controlled the jets. When he jammed his pelvis to the side, a burst of pressure s.n.a.t.c.hed him out of the Amnioni's arms.

His line cut through the creature's neck until it snagged on bone. The handle and his fist were slick with blood: the power of the jets jerked the weapon from his grip. Then his jets carried him away.

Twisting his hips, he shot toward the forest of gantries. As he soared, he slapped at his faceplate, trying to clear off some of the blood.

Vector still hadn't moved. d.a.m.n d.a.m.n it, he was paralyzed by his fear of fighting. At the last moment he'd decided to let his life end without a struggle- it, he was paralyzed by his fear of fighting. At the last moment he'd decided to let his life end without a struggle- No, Davies was wrong. Vector had had moved. He must have. moved. He must have.

The Amnioni a.s.signed to him drifted limp in front of him now, its arms slack, its hypo gone. Its instruments winked uselessly. Deep in one eye it wore a long sliver of plastic sharpened like a dirk.

Yes. Two down. Two down.

Slowly, methodically, Vector pulled his glove back onto his exposed hand like a man who could afford to take his time because his job was done.

Alien voices shouted incomprehensible commands or warnings.

Davies' jets made him faster than any una.s.sisted Amnioni. He ducked past a cable in his way, caught hold of the first gantry arm he reached, and swung around it in time to see Vestabule intercept Warden Dios.

Warden must have kicked himself away from the deck after Davies. He may have tried to hook a ride on Davies' jets and missed. Coasting weightless, he couldn't deflect his trajectory when Vestabule came after him.

Vestabule's legs were stronger: his leap lifted him faster than Warden could move. At the last instant Warden scissored a kick at Vestabule's head; but Vestabule slapped Warden's boot aside, clamped a fist onto his thigh. Climbing Warden hand-over-hand, Vestabule struck him a sweeping blow which snapped his head back; may have cracked his spine. He slumped in Vestabule's grasp, his head lolling.

Jets at full power, Davies dove at Vestabule before he realized that the two remaining Amnion, the guards, were closing on him.

By pure chance his maneuver surprised them. He flashed through their arms; drove past them toward Vestabule. Inertia carried them onto the gantry.

With almost human vehemence, Vestabule threw Warden's inert form at the nearest bulkhead. Then he wrenched himself around in midair to face Davies.

Davies' hands had already found his belt-pouch: his fingers s.n.a.t.c.hed out his whetted plastic shard. As Vestabule grabbed for him, he hammered his weapon at Vestabule's face.

His strike had all the force of his jets and his arm behind it. Vestabule stopped it with the only defense available: he put his hand in the way. Davies plunged his dagger into the Amnioni's palm and then ripped it away again as he roared past.

More blood. s.h.i.t, the atmosphere was already full full of blood- of blood- He slewed his hips to turn; launched himself in a desperate effort to catch Warden before Warden struck the bulkhead.

He saw at once that he was too late. Vestabule had hurled Warden too hard for Davies to overtake him. But Vector had no one to fight: he could react more quickly. Rising unexpectedly from the deck, he drifted along the bulkhead in time to interpose himself between Warden and the rough metal.

Warden's momentum slammed both of them into the wall. But Vector's body cushioned the impact. Cradling Warden in his arms, he rebounded slowly toward a nearby gantry.

A hand closed on Davies' ankle. One of the guards had sprung back from a gantry-limb at an angle that intersected Davies' trajectory. Before the guard could improve its hold, he slashed at the hand with his blade, jerked his ankle free, and wheeled off in an uncontrolled tumble of evasive jet blasts.

A voice he seemed to recognize screamed in his ears. It might have been his.

"Angus, G.o.d d.a.m.n you! Get in here!"

The next instant an explosion like a ma.s.sive fist of thunder staggered the entire hold. G.o.d, it must have staggered the whole ship! Cables lurched drunkenly: gantry-arms bobbed and swayed. One of the structures bowed as if it were about to topple-but of course it had nowhere to go in zero g.

The explosion echoed inside Davies' helmet; clanged pain into his ears. A moment pa.s.sed before he realized that he could hear the unmistakable sizzling hull-roar of matter cannon fire.

At the same time Calm Horizons' Calm Horizons' drives came to life, yowling for power until the bulkheads seemed to shriek in distress. drives came to life, yowling for power until the bulkheads seemed to shriek in distress.

The last battle was under way.

That explosion may have been the destruction of the proton cannon. Davies prayed it was as he flipped himself around a gantry to scan the hold.

Vestabule and the two guards had apparently decided to ignore Vector and Warden. They all fought their own inertia and weightlessness in order to converge on Davies-the prize for which Calm Horizons Calm Horizons and everyone aboard was willing to die. and everyone aboard was willing to die.

From an entryway opposite Davies' position, four more Amnion appeared. Summoned to Vestabule's aid-They wore jet-pods on their hips: they carried guns. Cl.u.s.tered for a.s.sault, they left the deck and sailed in his direction.

Seven Amnion. Four with guns. And he was effectively alone. No sign of Angus. Warden was unconscious-or dead. Vector had already done more than he would have believed possible.

At the start of Davies' life, Morn had told him, As far as I'm concerned, you're the second most important thing in the galaxy. You're my As far as I'm concerned, you're the second most important thing in the galaxy. You're my son. son. But the But the first, first, the the most most important thing is to not betray my humanity. important thing is to not betray my humanity. She'd faced worse than this in the name of that conviction. And she'd found an answer that was better than gap-sickness and suicide; better than surrender. She'd faced worse than this in the name of that conviction. And she'd found an answer that was better than gap-sickness and suicide; better than surrender.

Calm Horizons was already as good as dead. was already as good as dead.

His elevated metabolism gave him all the strength he needed; all the courage- c.o.c.king his hips, he blasted into motion. A mad howl overwhelmed his suit's external speaker.

"Come and get get me, you b.a.s.t.a.r.ds!" me, you b.a.s.t.a.r.ds!"

His own last battle had also begun.

ANGUS.

The part he didn't give a s.h.i.t about was easy. Save the Governing f.u.c.king Council for Earth and s.p.a.ce. What fun. Several different jamming fields cloaked him until he reached the super-light proton cannon. And hull-sealant hardened almost instantly. A database told him more than he wanted to know about it. In 1.7 seconds it stiffened enough to stand against decompression: in 4.2 it became so hard that it could face limited amounts of impact fire and matter cannon as if it were steel. Proton fire would tear it apart, of course-but he only needed five seconds to fill the emitter with so much sealant that the gun would probably shatter itself at the same time.

Call it twelve seconds altogether, and the Amnion lost most of their hostages. The f.u.c.king Members were safe.

The rest of what he had to do would be a h.e.l.l of a lot harder.

If he had any sense-if he were still the man he remembered being-he would head back to Trumpet; Trumpet; take his ship away from Mikka. When the fighting started, he could protect himself with the gap scout's dispersion field until he got a chance to burn for open s.p.a.ce and the gap. take his ship away from Mikka. When the fighting started, he could protect himself with the gap scout's dispersion field until he got a chance to burn for open s.p.a.ce and the gap.

But he didn't do that. He hardly considered it. Instead he launched himself with all his reinforced strength toward the docking port where Punisher's Punisher's command module rested against command module rested against Calm Horizons' Calm Horizons' side. side.

He'd become someone he didn't know at all.

He'd offered to sabotage the proton cannon in order to placate Morn; so that she would agree to the rest of his scheme. But his promise to her wasn't the only reason he'd actually done it. He needed the diversion. His plans to rescue Dios, Davies, and Vector-and to destroy Calm Horizons Calm Horizons-were desperately precarious. Any one of a thousand things could go wrong. So he was forced to hope that Vestabule would realize he'd been betrayed and try to destroy Suka Bator. When the proton cannon shattered, it might do enough damage to distract the Amnion.

As he sailed toward the docking port, he blocked his terror of EVA and his fear of death by correlating databases on matter cannon, EVA suits, and his own welding. He remembered vividly the terrible blast of pain which had nearly finished him back in Deaner Beckmann's asteroid swarm, when the quantum discontinuities of Trumpet's Trumpet's battle with battle with Soar Soar-And the effects of Trumpet's Trumpet's dispersion field-had hit his EM prosthesis like a sledgehammer. Now everything depended on the enhanced vision Lebwohl's medtechs had given him. If any of these d.a.m.n ships or stations opened fire for any reason, or if dispersion field-had hit his EM prosthesis like a sledgehammer. Now everything depended on the enhanced vision Lebwohl's medtechs had given him. If any of these d.a.m.n ships or stations opened fire for any reason, or if Calm Horizons Calm Horizons tried to use her proton cannon unexpectedly, he might find his head burned open by distortion on bandwidths hot enough to slag the neurons of his brain. Killed by his own augmentation- tried to use her proton cannon unexpectedly, he might find his head burned open by distortion on bandwidths hot enough to slag the neurons of his brain. Killed by his own augmentation- He absolutely could not afford to be blinded. Not now: not while he was still so far from the docking port, and Davies and Vector were fighting for their lives, and Ciro wasn't even close to being in position. If he reached the port without the full, effective use of his prosthesis, he might as well unseal his helmet and let the cold dark have him. Everything would be lost.

So he followed trails of numbers across the gathered knowledge Dios had made available to him; adjusted the polarization of his faceplate to compensate. Then he checked the numbers again. Through his datalink he did what he could to ready his zone implants for a catastrophe.

As he'd feared, there was no setting which might ward off the EM side effects of a super-light proton explosion.

G.o.d, this f.u.c.king warship was big! big! He'd crossed less than half the distance, and he was already close to contact with the hull, drawn off his trajectory by He'd crossed less than half the distance, and he was already close to contact with the hull, drawn off his trajectory by Calm Horizons' Calm Horizons' ma.s.s. In another few seconds he would be forced to touch down so that he could kick himself into flight again. Or else he would have to activate the magnetism of his boots and try running. ma.s.s. In another few seconds he would be forced to touch down so that he could kick himself into flight again. Or else he would have to activate the magnetism of his boots and try running.

Either way, he would lose time.

He looked up at Trumpet Trumpet through a smear of sweat; cursed viciously when he saw that Ciro hadn't moved. The d.a.m.n lunatic lay where Angus had left him, even though he should have been halfway to his position by now. If he didn't carry out his part of the plan on schedule, through a smear of sweat; cursed viciously when he saw that Ciro hadn't moved. The d.a.m.n lunatic lay where Angus had left him, even though he should have been halfway to his position by now. If he didn't carry out his part of the plan on schedule, Trumpet Trumpet and the command module were almost certainly doomed, along with everyone aboard-Mikka and the fat man, not to mention Angus himself, Davies and Vector, Warden Dios. and the command module were almost certainly doomed, along with everyone aboard-Mikka and the fat man, not to mention Angus himself, Davies and Vector, Warden Dios.

Angus understood that Ciro had no intention of surviving. But he'd believed, trusted trusted, that the demented kid didn't want to waste his own death.

He keyed his helmet pickup; filled his lungs to howl at Mikka's paralyzed brother.

Before he could start, distant s.p.a.ce erupted with fire.

Wrenching himself around, he turned in time to see lasers and matter cannon strike out from a station orbiting beyond UMCPHQ. In the first instant of the attack, he didn't know which astonished him more: the a.s.sault itself, defying Min Donner's explicit orders; or the target of the barrage.

For some insane reason, the station used lasers to punch a hole through Earth's atmosphere so its matter cannon could pound a target on the surface.

It made no sense. Someone on that station had gone stark staring s.p.a.ces.h.i.t crazy.

Nevertheless it was a gift. By G.o.d, it was a d.a.m.n blessing. blessing. He could see that because his faceplate protected him. He could see that because his faceplate protected him.

And it got better a few seconds later, when every ship in Donner's cordon-and UMCPHQ as well-opened on that station. Without transition the black void came to life in hot streaks of matter cannon fire punctuated by the broad, blurred-edge roar of impact guns, the coherent ruin of lasers. Torpedoes followed, freighted with slower death. Destructive fury concentrated on the station from several directions at once. Suddenly the whole platform took incandescence as its shields and sinks shrieked at the force of the bombardment.

Donner must have been ready for this; must have seen it coming- Angus didn't stop to wonder how.

He wanted a diversion? s.h.i.t, he got one. The Amnion weren't likely to spot him-or Ciro-while they had a fire-show like that to worry about.

He was distracted himself. Abruptly he plowed into the hull, slammed along it with the full force of his inertia. For an instant he couldn't breathe, couldn't think: his brain went blind in terror while he waited for the swift, excruciated death of decompression. But his suit didn't rupture: his thin EVA skin held against the impact.

Machine logic came to his rescue immediately. In a rush of emission his zone implants quelled his panic. He bounded up from the hull as fast as he'd hit.

The distant station had begun to throb and flare with coruscation like a sun about to go nova.

Trusting Dormer's diversion, Angus sent power to his jets, c.o.c.ked his hips, and dove into flight toward the docking port.

To his relief, he saw Ciro move at last. Like him, the boy used his suit jets. Ciro hadn't been paralyzed: he must have been waiting for something like this to cover him. More quickly than Angus would have thought possible, he lifted off Trumpet Trumpet with a singularity grenade tethered to his belt; hauled its uncompromising ma.s.s toward with a singularity grenade tethered to his belt; hauled its uncompromising ma.s.s toward Calm Horizons Calm Horizons.

Now! Angus yelled at Dolph. Do it now! But he silenced his pickup first. Dolph Ubikwe didn't need any urging to carry out his a.s.signment. Mikka might lose control of herself when she thought about her brother; but the man who'd lost command of his ship to Morn wouldn't fail.

Dolph waited until Ciro was clear. Then the module aimed a kick of thrust at Calm Horizons' Calm Horizons' side. Not enough to send the module and side. Not enough to send the module and Trumpet Trumpet wheeling away, out of reach: just enough to break the grip of the defensive's docking seals. Followed by a small gust of escaped air, the module drifted slowly off the port guides-ten meters, fifteen, twenty. There a gentle braking nudge stopped the vessel's movement; held it stationary in relation to the port. wheeling away, out of reach: just enough to break the grip of the defensive's docking seals. Followed by a small gust of escaped air, the module drifted slowly off the port guides-ten meters, fifteen, twenty. There a gentle braking nudge stopped the vessel's movement; held it stationary in relation to the port.

The module and Trumpet Trumpet still clung to each other, attached hatchair-to-airlock and gripped by magnetic clamps. still clung to each other, attached hatchair-to-airlock and gripped by magnetic clamps.

Dolph had opened the way for Angus.

Past the module Angus caught a glimpse of Ciro, arcing along the warship's flank with his fatal burden in tow.

Be careful careful, he warned Ciro mutely. That d.a.m.n thing weighed more than five hundred kg. Now that he had it moving, it wouldn't stop just because he told it to.

But he'd already said that to Ciro; more than once. He had to trust that the boy would do his part; keep his promise.

Angus also had promises to keep. Adjusting his hips to steer his jets, he flew into the gap between the module and Calm Horizons Calm Horizons, and plunged like a projectile down the guides toward the sealed outer iris of the defensive's airlock.

At the last moment he flipped to reverse his head and feet; used his jets for braking. His boots struck the iris with stinging force, but his reinforced joints absorbed the impact. His momentum threatened to rebound him toward the module: with a slew of his hip, he redirected himself sideward. Before reflected inertia could drag him away, he grabbed a zero-g grip beside the airlock's exterior control panel.

Alerts flashed at him inside his helmet: he was breathing too hard; sweating too much; dehydrating-He steadied himself with a flick of his zone implants. An Amnioni could open the airlock from here, but the keys and codes were incomprehensible to him. He was prepared for that, however. With one hand he reset the polarization of his faceplate for maximum clarity; switched off all his suit lights and indicators so that they wouldn't hamper his EM vision. Then he unclipped one of his cutting lasers from his belt and raised it in front of the control panel.

He couldn't work the keys; but if he cut exactly the right circuits in exactly the right order, the iris would open for him-and he would still be able to close it from the inside.

If he didn't succeed-if he got inside and failed to shut the door again-he might very well die in the explosive decompression when he unsealed the inner iris. Dios would certainly be killed. Davies and Vector might not survive.

He couldn't have done it without his zone implants: he was too scared to concentrate. This was going to take too long, he didn't have time for it. But emissions directed by his computer imposed calm on the troubled centers of his brain. His vision slowly shrank as other kinds of input ceased to affect his optic nerves. By degrees he began to discern a faint EM tracery, echoing the circuits behind the panel.

They were as legible as words-a language which his computer, his databases, and a lifetime of desperate experience knew how to interpret. The delicate lines of electronic command, ineffable as the links between synapses, ran there. there. If they were disrupted If they were disrupted here here, shunted that way that way, they would follow those those microscopic pathways. microscopic pathways.

His cutter had already been set so fine that its red beam was scarcely visible: it should have been impossible to control. But his attention was cybernetically fixed to the EM field of the panel. His muscles moved by machine increments: his computer and his zone implants held him firm. A minute line of ruby burned into the surface; burned into the circuits.