by Huskyteer
Rayfe shrugged. “Maybe it’s because you don’t believe in them.”
“Sure, but I don’t believe in you guys either.”
“Mm, I think perhaps you like our stories better? Mine, at least. Some of the Feyat ones get pretty repetitive.”
“Your stories gave me nightmares,” Jake replied, crossing his arms. “How many times did you kill Fox, or skin him alive, or leave him to starve in a trap? That’s just sick.”
Rayfe’s tail stilled. “Yeah,” he said after a moment. “That’s in my nature too. We don’t get to change it very often.”
“You still didn’t answer my question. Where’s Spirit?”
“Well, I guess technically I can’t stop you from talking to them,” the dog replied. “What a pity, I tried, et cetera. Though honestly, I don’t know what everyone sees in them. I mean, seriously, can you get any more cynical? Invisible, incorporeal, and genderless. Sure, it’s genius marketing, no rough edges to offend any demographic, but they’ve got all the personality of oatmeal.”
Jake chuffed in disbelief. “You think Spirit is cynical?”
“Take it from an expert,” Rayfe said, with a grin. “That whole schtick about about universal love and redemption? It’s for the rubes. Never trust a god who promises eternal happiness after death. And have you seen what Spirit’s followers get up to? They talk a good game, but they sure love blowing stuff up.”
“All right, yes, but.” Jake rubbed a paw across his face. “People are people. We’ll always find an excuse. But if you’re gonna have a god—and I can’t believe I’m defending organised religion to a figment of my imagination—isn’t it better to have one that makes us aspire to be better? Whose main lesson is about love and not chopping foxes into bits?”
“You want to be careful with that. Nothing as dangerous as righteousness, nothing as blinding as love. Skarra loves her people, and woe betide you if you get between her and them. Spirit, now, they love the whole world. What wouldn’t they do?”
The door rattled. Fox and dog looked at one another.
“What was that?” asked Jake.
“Oh, probably Skarra. I don’t know why she didn’t butt in earlier; I was beginning to worry about her. Maybe something happened to her hearing aid,” Rayfe said, waggling his eyebrows.
The door juddered again, and then something thumped against it.
“Why doesn’t she open it? Or just, I dunno, walk through it?”
“We’re gods, not ghosts,” Rayfe answered. “And she can’t open it because Feyat’s spear has unaccountably got wedged in that cavity the door’s supposed to slide into.”
Jake’s fur bristled. “You trapped me in here?”
“Oh relax, I’m not going to eat you. Besides, she’s very clever, and very determined, and a little scared. She’ll have it open in no time.”
“Why would you do that?” Jake tugged on his ears. “She already basically threatened to have me gutted. Spirit’s piss, why?”
“To spend another minute with the handsomest fox there is. And, more specifically, to spend it doing my third favourite thing: talking. So, last chance, Jacob of Fox: what do you want to know? Clock’s ticking.”
“What happened to Spirit? And give me a straight answer, for—for pity’s sake.”
Rayfe bowed his head and lifted his arms, turning around and floating down to the floor, claws clicking as his feet touched the ground. He gestured and the lights dimmed. A voice filled the room, soft and warm and reassuring.
“we are here, my child.” The lights flickered in time with the words. “we were within you all along, as we are within every soul that longs for peace.”
“So what happened? Why are these guys here too? What did Thomas mean in his note?” Jake hesitated, then pressed on. “How would you remake the world?”
“we have little time and there is so much to tell. above all, jacob of fox, you must know this: your butt stinks, and yet it is cute anyway, and lo we prophesy that rayfe shall hit that, and it will be divine.”
By the end of the performance, Jake was growling. “You stupid bastard, we don’t have time for this!”
“come now—I mean, come now. There’s always time for innuendo.” Rayfe turned back to him, tail wagging. The lights returned to normal. “No words of praise? I thought I made a very convincing Spirit.”
“I don’t care about—wait, wait, wait. You’re Spirit? You, what, made them up and pretended to be them to trick all those people into worshipping you?”
“Oh please, no. As though I could keep a straight face that long. Nah, they’ve got Spirit down in the far lab.”
“In the…here? On the Station?” The dog flicked an ear at him. “So why,” Jake growled between clenched teeth, “could you not have told me that ten minutes ago?”
“Because you only get one shot at this, puppy dog, and you would’ve Foxed it up. Plus, it’s in my nature. Get ready.”
A crackling sound came from the door, lasting for a second or two, and then the whole thing—apart from a thin slice at the edge—floated slowly into the room. Clawed hands gripped it from behind and sent it moving sideways, and Skarra stepped into the room. She glowered at them, pulling a gnarled stick from somewhere in her robe.
“Skarra! What a relief.” Rayfe beamed, tail wagging. “I was just saying to Jake here that you’d have us out of here in no time. Say, are we going to play the stick-toss game? Normally I wouldn’t indulge, but after—”
Skarra’s hand had swung to point it at the dog then twitched, silencing him. Jake thought at first that Rayfe had somehow been paralysed, but the blood soaking through the fur at the god’s neck quickly put paid to that.
“You killed him?” he heard himself ask.
“Dead as a dewclaw. He’ll be back sooner or later, more’s the pity, but for now we get some peace and quiet. ‘Course, you ain’t a god,” the rat said, pointing the stick at Jake, “so I’d tread careful if I was you, dear. Now, what did he tell you?”
Jake forced himself to look away from Rayfe’s body, hanging lifelessly in the air. “I think you already know that,” he replied. “Didn’t you have a bird that spied for you, in the stories?”
She made a hissing sound. “I told you not to go gettin’ clever with me, little one. If you know the stories, you know I always gets my way. Always.”
“You did,” he agreed. “But by stealth, or cleverness, or poison, never strength of arms. That was Feyat’s business. Funny, I don’t smell him. He not with you on this? Couldn’t trust him not to grab me for himself, maybe?”
He saw the tip of her tail flick. “Still that tongue of yours or I’ll cut it out, so I will.”
“But you won’t. We’ve been over this before: if you kill me, that’s game over. No new world; no more rats, ever. I put the last one out the airlock myself. Not one of yours, though, even if he was a doctor and a scientist. He was a Spirit man, through and through. True believer. That must’ve been a terrible disappointment, am I right?”
“Maybe I won’t kill you,” Skarra muttered, “but I can take you down a peg or two.” Her hand flicked, but Jake was already moving, shoving off the wall and tumbling through the air. Something stung his tail and he yelped but kept going, rebounding off a console. He needed cover, or a weapon, but the room was frustratingly open. He passed the radio headset and slung it towards the rat, cord and all. She cackled and a screen next to his head tore open, spilling wires and shards of plastic.
“Nowhere for you to go, fox! Maybe you should read how your own stories end, eh?”
But there was one piece of cover, wasn’t there? He swung around, grabbing Rayfe’s body and putting it between himself and the rat. Globules of blood shook free, hanging in the air like baubles. He braced himself and kicked off straight for Skarra. For an agonising second or two, he could do nothing but cling to the dog and hope. Spattering and tearing sounds came from the other side; he could see guts and bone trailing behind them. Then, with a whump, they hit the rat, knocking her ov
er.
It was a tooth-and-claw fight now, brutal and desperate. He was stronger but had no weight, no leverage. He seized her wrist in his jaws and clamped down, tugging the stick loose and throwing it away. She raked his face with her other hand. He bit down harder and something snapped in her wrist. Blood filled his mouth. Her hind legs scrabbled, claws tearing gashes in his uniform. He twisted around, out of her reach. Her free hand slipped into her robe and he grabbed at it through the cloth. She screamed, painfully high, and kicked at him, sending him spinning upwards. He came to rest against the ceiling, panting, staring down at her. She lay wheezing on the floor. Between them there was a haze of blood.
“Come on, this is stupid,” he gasped. “You don’t want to kill me, and I don’t want to kill you. What happened to winning me over with reason?”
She gave him a sickly smile. “Knife in the belly always was a winnin’ argument. What you goin’ to do now, little fox?”
“I don’t know!” His tail flicked and pain jolted through him. He gripped it with a whine. “Talk to people, figure it out.”
“Too late for that, I reckon. Once blood’s been spilled, the talkin’s done. Happened down there, now up here.”
“But we’re talking now!” His paw clenched and unclenched. “Rayfe was trying to tell me something about Spirit in this weird, roundabout way. Why?”
Skarra’s back arched and she pointed up at him. “You stay away from that thing!” she said, voice sharp again, then sunk back to the floor. “Worship me, or Feyat, or even that twisted-up dog, but never that.” She turned her head and spat blood. “Pure evil, it is.”
“We’ll talk it through, all right? Look, let’s call a truce. Will you promise not to hurt me, if I promise the same?”
“Too late for that, my sweetness. You already won.”
Jake looked at her again, seeing just how much blood was staining her robe. “Oh Spirit dammit, why didn’t you say?” He launched himself towards her, stifling a grunt of pain. “Let me see. Shit, where’s the first aid kit?”
“Stupid fox,” she whispered, though not without affection. “I was doin’ medicine—and butchery—afore you opened your eyes. Don’t you think I know what my own knife does? You just promise me you won’t go near that monster.”
“Hang on. Just…hang on, okay?” The kit was in the crew quarters. He leapt towards the doorway, brushing through the mist of congealing blood, and swung into the corridor. There was someone else up ahead. “Get help! Move, quickly!” he yelled. All he could smell was blood. Why were they just hanging there? “Skarra’s hurt. Go!”
It was Merra, he saw. He grabbed a handle on the wall, twisting to a halt. She wasn’t moving. The wrongness of it was plain, but he had to know. He drifted over cautiously, arms extended, and caught her shoulder. The smell of stale blood intensified. He turned her, slowly, glanced at her belly, and looked away.
Skarra was unmoving when he returned to the control room. He felt for a pulse, just to be sure, then sighed and let go of the kit. He should probably see to his own wounds, he realised, but couldn’t find the energy. First we killed ourselves off, he thought, and now these gods are doing the same. He wanted to curl up into a ball and have it all go away. Or a shower, a long, hot shower. But there was no shower, and there was unfinished business. Two gods left, and then he could rest. He pushed himself off and began making his way back down the corridor.
* * * *
He listened carefully as he approached the end. Breathing, occasional gasps and movement of paws. The musk of a weasel. He had thought to creep up unnoticed, but as he approached the doorway Feyat sniffed and called out: “Skarra, is that you? Come and take my place. I tire of this.” A pause. “Are you injured?”
Rayfe’s ventriloquism trick would be useful around now, Jake thought, poking his head around the corner. “She is,” he said. “By her own blade. It was an accident.”
Feyat stood with his back to the doorway, next to one of the experiments. No, Jake realised, not one of the original experiments: this was something new, cobbled together from parts taken from the others. The weasel stood next to a humming rack of electronics, and his paws were clasped together between two coils of wire.
“The cowardly fox, then.” Feyat sniffed again, back still turned. “You reek of blood. Have you taken to murdering old women now?”
“She killed Rayfe. And Merra. Look, I’m tired,” Jake said. “I just want this to be over with.”
“Then strike me down, coward, and be done with it. It will never go free while I draw breath.”
“Oh, stop being so dramatic.” Jake eased himself into the room and edged along the wall to get a better look. “What are you even doing?”
“We have bound Spirit! I did not think it could be done, and yet she did.” He lowered his tail. “Did she truly kill Merra?”
“Someone did, and it looks like you’ve got an alibi. So, yeah. You don’t seem too bothered about Rayfe.”
“Him? I’ve passed wind that I’ll miss more than that dog.”
Jake looked down. The coils were connected to the rack, and the rack was connected to the Station’s power grid. He had no idea what it did—besides imprison gods, apparently—but it looked pretty simple to switch off. “Skarra said he’d come back. The others too, I guess.”
“For the next story, yes. So long as there is a next story. Where are you sneaking off to, little fox? I’ve killed better warriors than you in my sleep.”
“Yeah, yeah. So what’s this all for? What did Spirit ever do to you, anyway?”
“They plotted against us,” Feyat snapped. “They schemed to remake the earth to their own vision.”
“Sounds strangely familiar.”
“It is not the same! There is a way these things are done. A god does not just wipe the Earth clean and begin again.”
Jake’s fur prickled. “What do you mean, wipe it clean?”
“Their followers built those weapons, and their followers fired them. It is plain to anyone with a nose.”
“Was it their fault, though?” Jake asked slowly. “Seems like they’re the only one with any followers left these days. Seems like you could pin all of the world’s problems on them that way.”
“What does it matter? I know they did it,” Feyat said, scowling.
“Because you would have done the same in their place?” The weasel didn’t rise to the bait, so Jake continued. “It matters to me, though. Got a decision coming up, remember? Look, if you let them out, can you recapture them later?”
Feyat looked at his paws. “Perhaps. Skarra could have. But I will not risk it, not to indulge your curiosity.”
“Then I’ll pull the plug and you’ll never get them back in. Or I’ll shut the grid down, or I’ll log into the rack, or whatever. We both know how this ends.”
The weasel’s shoulders slumped. “On your head be it, then. Don’t believe a word they say.” He stepped back, and suddenly warm, amber light filled the room.
“we are free. we thank you, child; be at peace.” The voice was soothing and familiar, eerily similar to Rayfe’s impression—or, Jake supposed, the other way around. He half-suspected that the dog was in the room somewhere.
“You’re really Spirit, then? The Spirit? And they had you locked up in here?”
“we are, and they did, for hours. we felt our last follower fall, and could not comfort him. we must away soon, to recover his soul.”
“Thomas? Seems you could’ve saved everyone a lot of trouble by talking to him earlier. Could’ve told him to hang tight, saved him a crisis of faith. He’d still be here, you’d have your decision, and I wouldn’t’ve had to deal with these maniacs,” Jake said, gesturing towards Feyat.
“we did speak with him, and he was troubled. we sought to ease his mind, but those ones interfered.”
“Interfered how, exactly?”
“we felt the touch of a false prophet,” Spirit said. Feyat spoke at the same time: “That damned dog, doing Skarra’s bidding.”<
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Jake sighed. “I actually thought he was trying to help. Stupid, stupid fox.”
“we love you, fox. we must finish together what he could not. we must set the world on a better path. we must remake it as a heaven, and bring all the lost souls from the last world safely home. we must have your worship.”
“Yeah,” Jake said. It was a relief to give in.
“No, you cannot!” Feyat shouted, but the fox ignored him.
“So, um. In this new world, would Glen be there? And would I get to see him?”
“we are moved by your love. we will see you reunited. we would not wish it any other way.”
Jake broke into a smile. He could feel the tears coming, and did not try to stop them. “Oh, that’s—I mean, I never thought I’d see him again. He was dead, and—” He took a deep breath. “Okay. Listen, I’m so sorry but I’ve got to ask this. This jack-off says you blew up the world, killed all those people. That true?”
“we did.”
Jake stared, baffled, then suddenly found himself retching. His vision dimmed. He fought it, shoving his paw in his mouth and panting until he could taste nothing but grime and dust and himself, until the blood was overpowered. Eventually, he looked back up.
“Why?” he asked.
“we saw the world tilting towards doom. we looked in the hearts of its people and found them ill-made, grasping, hateful. we saw in our sorrow that it was not their fault, for they had been made in the image of their old gods. we prophesied that the world would end, and feared for the next one. we placed one of our faithful safely up here, where the end would not touch him.”
“Thomas,” Jake said faintly.
“we told him that he need only strike you down, and then he would be the last, free to choose us, and the world would be ours to rebuild.”
“But he wouldn’t. Because he was a true believer.” Jake leant his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. “He actually believed in feeding the one that bites you and harming no one and all of that crap. Oh man, that must have burned. And then Rayfe comes along in disguise and says to him, what, you passed the test, my child, we call you to heaven. Or, maybe, we will accept your life in that poor fox’s place. Gives him a way out.” He opened his eyes, blinking. The light still suffused the room. Fayat appeared stunned. “But, okay. Help me with one last thing. You kill all the people and then bring them back. What’s to stop them picking up right where they left off?”
