The Worshippers and the Way

by Hugh Cook

Challenging.

  Looking around for his rival, for Lupus Lon Oliver.

  Where was he? Where was he?

  As Hatch was searching for him, Lupus came stumbling into Forum Three, gray with shock. Lupus had just lived through the trauma of having his head hacked off, and Hatch - Hatch was not about to let him forget it.

  "Lupus," said Hatch.

  Lupus Lon Oliver turned to face his enemy, the man who had outwitted him, who had outfeinted and outfought him, and had then dealt him a grievous punishment.

  "Lupus," said Hatch, grinning. "A present for you."

  Then Hatch upended his sack, and out bounced Lupus Lon Oliver's head, and rolled across the floor in a spew of blood, and blood still splurged from the sack, pumping out in gouting orgasms. Hatch grinned like a lunatic, grinned - then laughed ferociously. As Hatch laughed, Lupus doubled up and vomited.

  "The Season!" said Hatch. "I live for the Season!"

  "Enough," said Paraban Senk, speaking from Forum Three's display screen. "Hatch, you've won. Lon Oliver, you've lost. To the victor, the spoils."

  Forum Three erupted. The audience howled, cheered, jeered, stamped, and threw things.

  As Hatch stood firm to receive this mixed derision and applause, a free-floating machine entered Forum Three, drifted toward the simulcrum-head of Lon Oliver, swallowed it, vacuumed up the artificial blood and was gone, satisfied with the competence of its performance - though some stains of pseudoblood remained as token of the outrage Hatch had just perpetrated.

  Hatch was startled by the advent of the machine. He had seen such devices before, of course - many times. But he had presumed, on the basis of the evidence of the steadily mounting litter which had lately degraded the Combat College's environment, that all such cleaning machines were permanently disabled.

  "The meeting will settle," said Paraban Senk.

  It took more than saying it to make it happen, but eventually Forum Three came to order in obedience to Senk's commands. Hatch took a seat next to Talanta, who took his arm.

  "You were brave," she said. "You were very brave."

  She was still trying to give to him.

  All through their marriage she had done her best, giving him her body, giving him her services, and now, in extremis, in pain and dying slowly, giving him her praise when she had nothing else to give. Hatch experienced a crushing guilt, knowing himself to be an adulterer, a blaspheming apostate. His name would soon be scandal on the lips of every Frangoni in Dalar ken Halvar, and how would Talanta cope with that?

  Hatch had already done the unforgivable, and was sure that he would do far worse before the year was out. He believed, now, that he could only survive the enmity of the Free Corps by linking himself with the revolutionaries who thought of themselves as practitioners of Nu-chala-nuth. And what then would be Talanta's fate? Surely as the wife of an apostate she would find herself ostracized by the Frangoni community, would find herself an exile on the very Frangoni rock itself.

  Thinking of this, Hatch felt an enormous pity for the woman and her sufferings. But he knew that two cannot be made one by pity: and that, in a way, his pity was a measure of his estrangement from his wife.

  Then Hatch thought of his wife no more, for Paraban Senk was addressing Forum Three.

  "The graduating class has come to the end of its combat studies," said Paraban Senk. "I am pleased to say that we have a one hundred per cent pass rate. Those who have been unable to take their final examinations have been passed on the basis of an assessment of their work through the year and their performance in past examinations. We have of course one promotion to formally announce: Asodo Hatch is promoted to the post of resident instructor."

  Again there were mingled shouts of acclamation and derision, but the shouts were not as forceful as before. This drama had played itself out, and those in Forum Three were now starting to worry about the greater drama: the battle taking place for the control of Dalar ken Halvar.

  "Members of the graduating class," said Paraban Senk, "should

  clear their rooms and exit from Cap Foz Para Lash."

  "And if we don't?" yelled someone.

  "That needs no answer," said Paraban Senk. Then, urgently:

  "Scorpio Fax! What are you doing? Put down that knife!"

  That gave Gan Oliver the moment's warning he needed. He turned as Fax struck. Gan Oliver knocked the knife aside, elbowed Fax to the floor, then brought his bodyweight slamming down on top

  of Fax. Gan Oliver grabbed Fax by the hair and started slamming his head against the plax of the floor.

  With that, Forum Three abrupted into violence, as Free Corps supporters and Frangoni began to fight each other. A clutch of Free Corps loyalists slammed into Asodo Hatch.

  Taken by Dog Java, by Lupus Lon Oliver and by Jeltisketh Echo, Hatch went down hard. Lupus got hands to his throat and started to strangle him.

  "I," said Lupus, tightening his grip, "am going to kill you."

  This was for real, death for real, no lyrical illusion tank dream, no simulated fakery staged on the Eye of Delusions, but the terminus, the breath-fight, the lynch-note panic of flesh against flesh.

  And Hatch was losing, was going under, sliding under the blackness as the ceiling -

  The ceiling of kaleidoscope abruptly came crashing down, breaking in huge gobs of slob as it collapsed. The slob was COLD!

  Lupus Lon Oliver broke from the slob, gasping for air, and Shona kicked him in the head, elbowed Echo, spat in Dog Java's face, then reached into the slob and rescued Hatch, dragged him free and hauled him out of Forum Three.

  In the corridor outside, Onica was screaming, clutching tight to her mother, who was herself being supported by the Lady Iro Murasaki.

  "I hate this place!" sobbed Onica. "I hate it! I hate it! I want to leave!"

  Hatch comforted and calmed her as best he could, knowing that leaving was the last thing they could do with Dalar ken Halvar in the grip of riot.

  "Enough of that!" said Shona, thinking this was no time for comforting. "Let's get out of here!"

  And she led them one and all to the shelter of her own room, into which security they packed themselves, until Paraban Senk accessed the room via its communications screen, and assured them that the Combat College was once more safe and orderly.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Nu-chala-nuth: a fanatic religion of the Nexus. Asodo Hatch, long a student of Nu-chala-nuth, has abandoned his own faith for that of the People. True, he declared himself for Nu-chala-nuth in an illusion tank. But all things are one as far as the gods and their worshippers are concerned - an illusion tank being no more Real or Unreal than that greater illusion known as the World of the Flesh and the Fact. As far as the Frangoni are concerned, Asodo Hatch is now an apostate, a blasphemer, accursed of his birth, his fate linked not with the Frangoni but with the People of the Nu-chala-nuth.

  Deny the gods? Then die!

  For who denies the gods denies

  The mother-father-family, the all -

  Which then to live were blasphemy, the unclean flesh

  Defiant of its death, but doomed to die.

  With riot subdued and order restored, those scheduled to leave the Combat College packed up, then took their final pay and spent it. With the last of their Combat College pay they bought goods freshly fabricated by the marvelous machineries of the Nexus: books, bolts of cloth, blocks of chocolate, toys and such minor medicines as could be freely bought from the canteen. Then for one last time they made their way through the cream-colored corridors to the lockway. After an earlier lapse, the lighting near the lockway had been restored to normal. But as for the dorgi - ah, that was quite abnormal, for that mechanized dog-beast had withdrawn to its lair, where it was sulking.

  The inner airlock filled with members of the graduating class and their possessions. Once full, it closed.

  A scattering of Combat Cadets, Startroopers and guests were left to wait for the next cycle. Among them, Manfred Gan Oliver and his son Lupus.
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  "I will see you shortly," said Gan Oliver pleasantly, addressing his comment to Hatch.

  Lupus said nothing. Trying, perhaps, not to cry.

  "We will meet when we meet," said Hatch, wishing to see the man gone, "but I have some sleep to catch up on before I think of leaving here."

  "You and yours will necessarily leave the Combat College soon," said Gan Oliver. "I will be waiting for you. I will be waiting to supervise your deaths."

  This was said in an everyday conversational tone.

  "I'm sure you will prove a most competent executioner," said Hatch, matching Gan Oliver in tone.

  Asodo Hatch was far too tired to be originating style. Had Gan Oliver screamed and yelled, then Hatch would have matched him in his histrionics.

  When Gan Oliver had been cycled through the airlock, Hatch began to feel safe. He made his way to the Combat College cafeteria, to which his wife had been taken by Shona. Hatch found Talanta upset. She was crying. From the intensity of her grief, Hatch immediately divined that someone had told her what Hatch had done - had told her that he had rejected his god.

  "Love," said Hatch, trying to persuade himself that she was, or had been, or could be his love.

  "Go away," she said.

  Where was the rhetoric when Hatch needed it most? Where were the great speeches? Where was the flowing eloquence? In the face of this most intimate and most personal emotional crisis, he found himself almost mute.

  "My love," said Hatch, touching Talanta lightly, lightly on the arm.

  "Go away!"

  Was this command seriously intended? Or was it an invitation for Hatch to further explore the strategies of comfort?

  "I'll stay with her," said Shona, laying a hand on Hatch's shoulder. "You go to your room."

  Hatch took this advice, and went striding away through the corridors of the Combat College.

  - I have denied my god.

  - I have denied my god.

  Over and over, those words spoke themselves his mind. He had declared himself in public. He could not undeclared his testimony.

  - But at least.

  - At least I won myself a chance.

  - A fighting chance.

  A fighting chance. That was what he had won. No more, no less. He had killed Lupus Lon Oliver in an illusion tank battle.

  But Lupus remained unkilled in the real world - and Lupus would doubtless kill Hatch for real if given half a chance. Hatch's throat still hurt where Lupus had tried to strangle him.

  - So what have I got?

  - What resources?

  - To hurt him, to kill him?

  - I'm the instructor. So.

  - Information!

  The realization struck Hatch with the force of a physical blow. As instructor, he now had access to all Combat College files previously denied to him. Or almost all. Certainly he would look at his own file. And that held on the Silver Emperor - just in case it might give him a clue as to where that worthy had vanished to. Then he would look at all data held on Lupus Lon Oliver.

  Through the corridors of cream went Asodo Hatch, to the room which had been his for so many years. There in that room, unchanged, were his father's ashes and the ebony effigy of the Great God Mokaragash. Same room, same man, same ashes and selfsame idol.

  Yet all had changed.

  "Fates," said Hatch, feeling the full force of his difficulties falling upon him, falling like blanketweights of black and smothering snow.

  Still, he had done what he had done, and now he had to face up to the consequences. Could he hope for help from Paraban Senk?

  Could he hope for counsel and advice? Probably not. If anything, Senk would probably tell Hatch to go on holiday. Seven days, wasn't it? Yes, that was it. The triumphant instructor was automatically given a seven day promotion furlough. Ha! A joke, that. A bad joke. There were no time for holidays now. Hatch had won his competitive examination, but his true trials were only beginning.

  Hatch slumped into the seat in front of his room's display screen. He knuckled his fists to his skull. Grief, but he was tired. Well now: what first? What was he looking for? Data.

  Secrets. Information. Leverage.

  "Access," said Hatch, addressing himself to the screen.

  In answer to his command, the face of Paraban Senk came to life on his display screen.

  "Congratulations on your appointment," said Senk. "You did well. You surprised me."

  "I surprised myself," said Hatch, in frank confession.

  "Then perhaps you will surprise both of us further in the future," said Senk. "In earlier negotiations you said you could seize Dalar ken Halvar for the Nu-chala-nuth. Can you tell me how you plan to do this?"

  "I'm working on it," said Hatch. "Tell me how things now stand in Dalar ken Halvar."

  So Senk gave Hatch a rundown of all the data which Senk had gleaned from watching the kinema by means of the Eye of Delusions, and by listening to (or explictly interrogating) the various Combat Cadets, Startroopers and invited guests who had come and gone as Hatch and Lupus were dueling. Senk believed that, though the lower orders had looted freely under cover of night, the Imperial Guard and the Free Corps now had the city under temporary control.

  "So," said Hatch, "I cannot venture out into the city to preach the doctrines of the Nu-chala-nuth, because the Free Corps would kill me if I did. So, first ...."

  "What will you do first?" said Senk.

  "I will tell you in due course," said Hatch, who had absolutely no idea what he would do first. "But before I do any telling, I need the answers to some questions."

  "Ask your questions," said Senk.

  "Where did your face, name and personality come from?"

  "Way back in the days of the Nexus," said Paraban Senk, "a master programmer designed the asma which runs the Combat College.

  His name was Paraban Senk. It was Nexus policy that this particular asma should be equipped with a fully functional human personality which would take charge of the Combat College should that tutorial facility be separated from the Nexus. So - "

  "So the master programmer designed this, this reserve personality in his own image," said Hatch.

  "Precisely," said Senk. "When you talk to me, you talk, in effect, to that programmer. You talk to a citizen of the Nexus.

  Next question."

  Hatch took a deep breath then said:

  "What was the true relationship between the Nexus and the Golden Gulag?"

  "You were taught this as part of your political studies program when you were a child," said Senk.

  "Regardless of what I may or may not have been taught," said Hatch, "I am still asking the question. What was the truth of that relationship?"

  "The truth was stated to you in your political studies program," said Senk stiffly. "I have nothing more to add to that."

  "So," said Hatch.

  The Golden Gulag was the free enterprise prison empire which had run the planet of Olo Malan in the days of the Chasm Gates.

  Hatch had studied the official accounts of the relationship between the Golden Gulag and the Nexus, and did not believe what he had read there. But it seemed that Paraban Senk believed the official line, or was not authorized to reveal the real truth, which meant that Hatch was surely condemned to live in ignorance of the facts.

  "Next question," said Senk.

  "How many planets have dorgis?" said Hatch.

  "Very few," said Senk. "Dorgis were ... dorgis were experimental."

  "I thought as much," said Hatch.

  "Next question."

  Hatch tried to think of one, but drew a blank. He closed his eyes briefly and saw green jungle, metallic seas, the flaming smoke of aerial wreckage, a handful of confetti and the white stars of the Nexus.

  Then he opened his eyes and said:

  "Who killed Hiji Hanojo?"

  "Why," said Senk, "you know the answer to that as well as I do."

  "You mean you don't know," said Hatch.

  "Let's not play games with each oth
er," said Senk. "You killed him."

  Asodo Hatch was quite taken aback by this.

  "That's a nonsense!" said Hatch.

  "You had motive and opportunity," said Senk. "You - "

  "Go play this game in your own time," said Hatch. "Because I'm not interested."

  "Very well," said Senk. "If you want to pretend yourself innocent, then pretend. In the meantime, if you've no more questions, then let's discuss our plans for the future."

  "What time is it?" said Hatch. "Outside, I mean?"

  "It is early afternoon," said Senk. "It is the early afternoon on the Day of Two Fishes."

  "So I was dueling with Lupus Lon Oliver all through the night."

  "And in the morning," said Senk.

  "Then," said Hatch, "logically, my next step is to get to sleep, and that is exactly what I intend to do."

  Senk was not at all pleased with this, but in the end had to acknowledge that Hatch's plan had a lot of wisdom. So Senk broke contact with Hatch, and Hatch laid himself down on his bed, and was plunged almost instantly into the deepest of sleeps.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Intelligence can be a defect, since intelligence can be bluffed. Consider the dangers of negotiating a passage past the guardians of an interdicted door. Dogs will give you no chance -

  they will tear out your throat regardless of your arguments. Human guards, on the other hand, can be bluffed or beguiled, or possibly bribed. Thus dogs are valued for their very stupidity, for with intelligence comes autonomy - and autonomy is very much a double-edged blade.

  - from the Book of Negotiations

  Dorgi-dog, dorgi-dog,

  Catch me if you can;

  Dorgi-dog, dorgi-dog

  I'm the fastest man.

  - Lupus Lon Oliver (at age seven)

  Asodo Hatch slept through the afternoon of the Day of Two Fishes, and slept solidly through the night that followed. At dawn on the Day of the Last Fish, the day before Dog Day, Asodo Hatch lay dreaming of Thaldonian Mathematics, of equations breeding and mutating in a warm sea of dogfish-ducks, of seagull-sharks and floating skulls. The skulls were purple, and, as the quills of shellfish plucked themselves to deliquescent music, the skulls became warthogs, and sunbloated smoothly into the brown melt of chocolate.