But the DA director appeared oblivious to her fury—or to Godsen’s consternation. As if he wanted to make himself look as bad as possible, he added, “I had another reason also. She is a beautiful woman, Special Counsel Igensard. Because of Captain Thermopyle’s treatment, we suspect that she is aptly suited to satisfy the appetites of such men as Captain Succorso. We gave her to him to lessen the likelihood that he would turn against us if his mission on Thanatos Minor proved”—pushing up his glasses, Hashi finished—“difficult.”
Through the shocked silence which gripped the Council, Igensard said softly, “Director Lebwohl, you used the word ‘vileness’ to describe Captain Thermopyle’s behavior. Don’t you think the description fits your own as well?”
Like Min, Warden leaped to his feet. “That’s enough!” he roared. “Call off your dogs, Mr. President!”
He wasn’t worried about Igensard or the Council: his overriding concern was to restrain the ED director before she disrupted what he was trying to accomplish through Hashi.
“I didn’t agree to this conference so that my people could be abused,” he stated loudly. “I did it because my charter carries the duty of disclosure. But I remind you that there’s no duty of consultation. We aren’t required to let you second-guess us! We did what we did with Ensign Hyland for the same reason we do everything else—because at the time that seemed like the best way to fulfill our Articles of Mission. It was a gamble, nothing more, nothing less. It either works or it doesn’t. Either way, we don’t deserve insults from small men with big titles.”
If that didn’t achieve what he wanted, nothing would.
Right on cue, Abrim Len burst into a flurry of placatory phrases and gestures. But Maxim Igensard was already shouting, “Director Dios, what do you make of the fact that Angus Thermopyle is heading for the same place you sent Succorso and Hyland?”
More quietly Warden repeated, “I said, that’s enough. We’ve answered your questions—we’ve done our part. As far as I’m concerned, this conference is over. Mr. President, if you want to pursue any of these subjects further, we can arrange another occasion. But before we do, I want you to teach your Special Counsel better manners. My people and I have done nothing to deserve this kind of hostile interrogation.”
Turning his back on the cameras, he keyed his intercom and told his secretary to sever the downlink.
Almost immediately the screen went blank.
He didn’t bring up the dimmed lights around his desk. He wanted to switch them off completely and spend some time alone in the dark, rubbing his temples, letting his sore eyes rest; cradling his lacerated ideals. But he couldn’t do that; not yet. The PR director came toward him, broaching the concentrated illumination like an indignant lion.
“Director,” Godsen blared, “that was an outrage! Do you know what you’ve done? You’ve made us look like garbage, like weasels! You’ve curled their moral hair to the roots! There’s going to be hell to pay for this. If I know Carsin and Igensard, they’re already howling for our blood—and after that stunning performance, the rest of the Members will be ready to listen. I tell you, Holt Fasner is going to be—”
Warden’s headache was spreading. Godsen’s voice hurt his ears. But he didn’t look at Frik. His attention was caught by Hashi’s aura.
Warmth and moisture left a glowing curve down Hashi’s spine. Despite his calm, organic duplicity, the DA director had sweated through his lab coat. In contrast, his face was pale, leeched of blood, as if he’d been drained by the effort of so much selective truth.
Conserving his energy, moving as little as possible, Warden stopped Godsen by simply pointing one finger at him. Warden’s stance was firm, his manner unruffled. Yet his very stillness seemed to frighten Godsen, as if his finger were fatal.
“I didn’t ask for your evaluation of our ‘performance,’” he said quietly. “I asked you to tell me if I’ve answered your questions. You wanted to know what insurance we have that Milos won’t betray us. The answer is, none. But we’ve put him in a position where there’s only one direction he can go if he turns against us. And Angus’ programming watches for that automatically. We can’t prevent him from trying to sell what he knows about Joshua, or us—but if he does that we’ll have a recording of it. And he can only sell what he knows. We’ve been very careful about what we’ve allowed him to learn.
“As soon as he starts trying to play some kind of bugger game against both sides, we’ll be able to use him in ways he doesn’t suspect.
“That’s what makes him worth the risk.”
Warden knew that Godsen considered this issue trivial compared with the consequences of the GCES conference; but he didn’t care. Dismissing the PR director, he forced himself to face Min Donner’s more profound outrage at last.
“How about you?” With an effort, he kept his tone mild. “Have I answered your questions?”
As fierce as a hawk, she confronted him across the focused light. One hand closed and unclosed involuntarily; the other plucked at her gun as if she required a constant exertion of will to leave the weapon in its holster.
“Was all that true?” Her voice was as soft as his, but immeasurably more feral. “All that about Morn?”
Sighing with weariness, Warden Dios replied, “Yes.” At the moment he had no more stomach for lies.
She winced: that one word seemed to hurt her more than any other. “But how—?” she pursued as if her pain came to her in pieces. “I don’t understand. That doesn’t explain—” With a sudden shiver like a spasm of revulsion, she took hold of herself. “It doesn’t fit. How did you know Com-Mine wouldn’t give Angus the death penalty. How could you?”
She wasn’t thinking straight yet; but Warden saw where her reasoning would go. He accepted the accusation as stoically as he could.
“I didn’t. We all knew Angus was going to be arrested—but I had no idea how significant he was until they only got him for burglary. Hashi told the truth. We were planning to send Nick against Billingate before we ever had the opportunity to frame Angus and pass the Preempt Act.”
“Then Hashi told the truth?” Min couldn’t have stopped now to save her soul. “That’s why you let Succorso have her? So he could sell her to get himself out of trouble? And so he could use her along the way?”
Warden nodded once. He couldn’t say yes to her again.
“But it still doesn’t make sense!” she protested. “Getting Angus changed everything. You knew you could never really trust Succorso. Welding Angus and sending him against Billingate is a lot better. It’s much more likely to work.”
Warden nodded again.
“Which means,” Min continued, “you don’t need Succorso now. You don’t need to let him keep her. That’s all been superseded. Why wasn’t Angus programmed to rescue her? Why did you refuse to let him be programmed to rescue her?”
Godsen appeared to think Min was breaking down Warden’s defenses. As if he were supporting her, the PR director put in, “I wanted her rescued. I argued for that as hard as I could. It’s a terrible mistake to leave her with Succorso. But you wouldn’t listen.”
Warden ignored Godsen. He would have ignored Hashi, if Hashi had had enough energy to join the accusation. Only Min Donner mattered to him here.
Wielding anger like a scourge, he drove himself to tell one more lie.
“Because both Nick and Morn have been what Hashi calls ‘irretrievably compromised.’ They’ve been to Enablement. I don’t know why—that was never part of our plans.” Not since Nick Succorso first traveled there to test the immunity drug. “But they went. And they got away again. I’m afraid to guess what it means.”
Unexpectedly Hashi spoke. As if he were coming to Warden’s aid, he wheezed, “It may mean that the Amnion have perfected mutagens which enable them to transform human beings without altering their bodies or destroying their minds. In that case, both Captain Succorso and Ensign Hyland have become appallingly dangerous. We must hope”—he might have said pray—“that
our Joshua succeeds in destroying them.”
Min faced this for a moment as if she still believed she could face anything.
Then she turned away, wrenched the door open, and strode out of the office.
Warden looked at Godsen. “You, too. I want to be alone.”
The force of Warden’s single eye was enough to make Godsen leave. He may have wanted to put as much distance as possible between himself and the UMCP director.
Only Hashi remained. “I, too,” he said when Warden glanced at him. “I need rest as well.” He started toward the door.
Halfway there, however, he paused. Peering through his smeared glasses, he said, “Warden Dios, you suffer too much. I am at a loss to explain why I esteem you so highly.
“Yet I must say this. The conference which we have just endured—that was well played. I can only guess at your intentions, but I do not doubt that you have accomplished them.”
Without waiting for an answer, he left Warden alone.
By some standards, the DA director’s compliment was a worse insult than anything Maxim Igensard had said. Nevertheless Warden smiled wanly and said, “Thanks,” at Hashi’s departing back.
Like Morn Hyland—not to mention Angus Thermopyle—Warden Dios was now irretrievably compromised.
ANCILLARY DOCUMENTATION
UNITED MINING COMPANIES
A BRIEF HISTORY (continued)
rivately the history of the United Mining Companies was a study in the unscrupulous brilliance and overweening ambition of two men: Holt Fasner and Warden Dios.
Experimenting with rejuvenation techniques developed by Intertech, Holt Fasner lived for more than a hundred fifty years. In his late thirties, he became chairman and CEO of Space Mines Inc. During the next one hundred ten years or so, he built the original company from a small orbital ore smelter into one of ten or twelve major players in the exploration and development of space, and then into the biggest player, the UMC. He did this by a display of foresight, cunning, manipulation, and willingness to take risks which none of his competitors could match.
He did it by simple acquisition—e.g., Intertech—as well as by subterfuge. For example, corporate espionage paid rich dividends when he was able to drive Sagittarius Exploration into bankruptcy by exposing the attempts of SagEx’s directors to suborn the political process which chartered space companies. In addition, he had a gift for being in the right place at the right time: contact and trade with the Amnion was established by SMI on the basis of information gained through the acquisition of Intertech. His policy of bold exploration served him well: his ships discovered the tremendous asteroid belt—dangerously near forbidden space—which eventually came to be served by Com-Mine Station. And he did not shrink from betrayal: on one occasion, he reneged on a deal to help pay for a new orbital smelter—much needed to process the growing influx of ore—with the result that the company which had been relying on him lost several credit ratings and became vulnerable to SMI greenmail. Nor did he balk at bribery: perhaps his greatest coup came when, for a few billion dollars, he succeeded at buying the votes which chartered the UMC with a monopoly on dealings with the Amnion. In fact, Holt Fasner lived long enough to see the UMC become so powerful that it controlled the safety or ruin of the human species.
His ambitions didn’t end there, however. Having achieved an apparently impregnable dominance for the UMC, he focused his attention on the United Mining Companies Police.
In one sense, this was easily explained. The Amnion were a vast source of wealth: they also represented the most lethal external threat humankind had ever encountered. Vigilance and muscle were essential. A force effective enough to oppose Amnion imperialism was required. Presumably if human space were capable of defending itself efficaciously that capability in itself would suffice to stave off overt aggression. So ran the rationale for developing the resources of the UMCP dramatically, as well as for granting it jurisdiction over every other form of human security. In a relatively few years, the UMCP became the most extensive and vital of all the UMC’s enormous concerns. The UMCP may have grown out of the UMC originally; but eventually the Police grew to be the engine which drove all the United Mining Companies’ enterprises.
Unfortunately this explanation ascribed to Holt Fasner an altruism which no one had ever observed in his character. As a matter of protocol, he always claimed for himself the best possible motives; but people who either suffered or profited from their dealings with him dismissed those claims.
On the other hand, if his stated reasons for assigning so much of the UMC’s energy and resources to the UMCP could be dismissed, what alternative explanation remained? What were Holt Fasner’s true ambitions? Did he simply covet the power for its own sake? For the illusion it created that he and he alone stood between humankind and ruin? For the reassurance that his legacy to his species would never be forgotten?
Or was the whole question being asked backward? Was the real issue not, What did Holt Fasner want? but, What did Warden Dios want? Had Holt Fasner himself, the most dominant man in human space, fallen under the dominance of the director of the United Mining Companies Police?
This perspective did not make the question easier to answer.
Who was Warden Dios? What were his ambitions? How did he come to his present position—and what did he want to make of it?
Without an adequate understanding of one—or both—men, the true role of the UMC, as well as the UMCP, in human affairs was difficult to estimate.
Warden Dios had no wife and no children; no brothers or sisters; no known lovers, dependents, playthings, or weaknesses. To all appearances, he had no mother or father. What did such a man value, if he had none of the normal bonds which web men and women to their contexts? What did he desire, if he had no use for those bonds?
In the opinion of some observers, he had sprung full-grown from the mind of Holt Fasner: he was a pure tool of the Dragon’s, working his master’s will with all his considerable diligence and cunning.
However, other analysts insisted that this was not the case. In their view, he was one of those rare men who had become an idealist through experience with its opposite. Orphaned young in one of Earth’s more toxic cities, he grew up among guttergangs and violence, and from those things learned to believe in the utter necessity of what police have tried to do throughout human history—i.e., to impose order on destruction; to protect the weak or vulnerable from abuse within society; to protect society itself from threat, whether internal or external. His idealism—so the argument went—was the idealism of a man who believed in what the police stood for; a man who lived to serve those beliefs.
If this perception was accurate, he and Holt Fasner formed a strange and volatile partnership. Holt Fasner was many things, but no one ever accused him of being an idealist.
Certain facts were known. Warden Dios was a much younger man than his boss and mentor; but he looked older, in part because of his prosthesis, in part because he lacked Fasner’s enthusiasm for rejuvenation experiments. He was only in his early thirties when Fasner picked him to head SMI Internal Security, which became the United Mining Companies Police as soon as the UMC was chartered shortly thereafter; he was the only director the UMCP ever had. So he had little or nothing to do with the process by which Fasner built Space Mines Inc. into the UMC: the worst accusation from that period which could be brought against him was that he may have participated in the operation against Sagittarius Exploration. From that point of view, his record was unblemished by his association with Holt Fasner’s more questionable dealings.
Yet he was responsible for the growth of the UMCP from nothing more than SMI Internal Security to its present status as the single most powerful division of the UMC. The more virulent the problem of piracy became, and the more dangerous relations with the Amnion came to seem, the more necessary his Police grew to be. From his headquarters orbiting Earth, he ruled human space by defending it. He imposed order, which enabled the UMC to function; ultimately he enable
d the UMC to exist. In his hands, he held the only power which stood between humankind and the ambiguous threat of the Amnion.
In some circles, Warden Dios was revered. That was natural enough: powerful people frequently were. Holt Fasner himself received reverence from men who were astonished by his achievements.
Elsewhere, however, Dios was considered the most dangerous individual who had ever lived: more dangerous than Holt Fasner because more crucial to humankind’s survival. In that view, the most fatal tyranny was that which disguised itself as the protector of its victims. After the passage of the Preempt Act, few could argue that the UMCP had not become a form of tyranny.
Any useful study of the United Mining Companies had to take into account both the public and the private histories; had to confront the almost paradoxical intersection between economic muscle—which deals only in aggregates—and personal power—which by its very nature resides only in individuals, not in charters, chains of command, or official positions.
MORN
he guards had locked her in a room. The genetic technicians had come and gone.
Shivering like an invalid, Morn Hyland sat with Amnion mutagens in her veins and waited for the organic convulsion which would bring her doomed humanity to its end.
Lit by the sulfuric glow her imprisoners preferred, the small, sterile cell around her seemed lambent with insidious yellow threats. It was a bare chamber, not a lab; empty of everything except cleanliness and light, a small san and the couchlike chair where she sat. Any monitors were so unfamiliar or so well disguised that she couldn’t identify them: she was apparently alone in a naked room. Perhaps the Amnion wanted to observe her transformation without inhibiting her reactions—and without risking damage to valuable equipment. Or perhaps their facility on Billingate wasn’t supplied for research; perhaps she’d been put in this cell because it was the only space available to hold her. Whatever the reason, she was free to pace the floor or sit still, as she chose.
She sat as still as her shivers and the fear storming through her permitted. Transfixed, she studied the spot on her forearm where the mutagen had been injected as if it were venomous; as if the wound was made by a fang.
A Dark and Hungry God Arises Page 16
