A Dark and Hungry God Arises

by Stephen R. Donaldson

  “If I were the Amnion,” Davies rasped, “I wouldn’t worry about that right now. They’ve lost Tranquil Hegemony—in fact, they’ve lost most of their installation. And they know Nick works for the cops.” Complex vibrations sharpened his tone, like whetted knives. Morn heard anger, revulsion—and a strange note of pride. “They know about his immunity drug.”

  As he said that, a small sun of fear and shame went nova in her heart. They know—Of course they knew. Nick had told her that. But how did Davies know?

  “They’re bound to assume,” he continued, “that’s why their mutagens didn’t work on Morn. So they have to believe he set them up. He and Angus must be working together—he gave them Morn to bait some kind of UMCP trap.

  “Stopping this ship probably takes precedence over everything else.”

  Morn’s knees failed: she sagged against his seat. “You remember.” If she’d ever needed her zone implant control, she needed it now. “Your memory came back.” How else could she face the things her son knew about her? “You remember Nick telling me about the drug.”

  No wonder he wanted to lock Nick out of the ship. He remembered the things she’d done with him; the lies and desperation; the sex—

  “Yes.” He spoke over his shoulder without facing her. “I remember it all.” He sounded far away, too far to be reached; doomed by knowledge. “It started coming back as soon as I saw Angus.”

  He remembered the people she’d killed.

  He remembered what Angus had done to her.

  Did he want Angus’ death as much as he wanted Nick’s? Or was all his remaining rage and revulsion fixed on her? Had he given his loyalty to his father because he couldn’t bear the memories he’d inherited from his mother?

  Anger and revulsion made perfect sense to her; but what had he found in her experience—or his own—to be proud of?

  If she lost him—or he lost her—he would have nothing left except Angus.

  Vector had moved to stand behind her. Although he didn’t touch her, he seemed to lean toward her as if he wanted to shore her up somehow.

  “Speaking of Angus,” he put in quietly, “how much time does he have left?”

  “He told me an hour.” Mikka’s tone was abstract: most of her attention was on the screens. “I checked my suit chronometer when he said it. He’s got”—she glanced at the command console readouts—“eighteen minutes.”

  Davies swore under his breath. “That gives Calm Horizons time to position herself right over us. We won’t have any kind of escape trajectory to get out of range.”

  “Then we’d better go now,” Nick drawled mordantly.

  Sib and Mikka whirled; Davies twisted his head toward the companionway. Supporting herself on the command seat and Vector’s shoulder, Morn turned as Nick started down the steps with Pup in front of him like a shield.

  Pup moved as if he had cramps in his arms. His eyes seemed to roll, showing flashes of white; his young features were stretched taut.

  His hands were empty. Apparently Nick had interrupted him before he finished in the galley.

  Nick had taken the time to remove his EVA suit. He was grinning sharply, but a spasm in his cheek clenched one side of his grin into a snarl. Blood filled his scars: they looked black and vengeful. Above them his eyes glared wildly, as if he were cornered.

  He descended the companionway without haste. Keeping himself behind Pup, he reached the deck.

  “We can’t afford to wait,” he announced like a splash of acid. “Davies, this is your chance to convince me you’re worth keeping alive. Disengage from dock. Give me a normal departure lift-off. Get thrust ready to burn. Put the gap drive on standby.”

  Davies’ lips pulled back from his teeth. Deliberately he took his hands off the command board and gripped the sides of the console.

  “Do it now,” Nick warned. “You’re fucking dispensable, you know that?”

  “Nick.” Mikka took a step forward, cocked her hips belligerently. “I’m in command here. We’re not taking your orders anymore. None of us are.”

  There was something wrong about the way Pup stood. His posture was too rigid; the line of his spine was too acute. Morn opened her mouth to caution Mikka, but her throat locked down on the words, keeping her silent.

  Nick waggled his eyebrows grotesquely at his former second. “I’ll give you one chance. Tell him”—he jerked a nod at Davies—“to do what I just said. Make him obey. Then I’ll let you be in command.

  “Otherwise—”

  He lifted his left hand from behind Pup’s back.

  He was holding Morn’s black box.

  “I’ve got my fingers on enough buttons,” he said cheerfully, “to fry her brain.

  “You hear me, you little shit?” he flared at Davies.

  Then he relaxed. “One squeeze, and she’s a null-wave transmitter. Which would just about count as justice, don’t you think?

  “Let’s start over again.” He spat each syllable precisely. “Disengage from dock. Give me—”

  Mikka flung herself at him with all her strength.

  Pup’s whole body flinched in panic. Morn tried to cry out, but she couldn’t unclose her throat.

  Quick as a snake, Nick snatched his right hand into sight and jammed his handgun at Pup’s ear.

  Mikka stopped as if she’d slammed into a wall.

  “That’s better.” Nick grinned and snarled. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”

  He ground the muzzle of his gun into Pup’s ear until Mikka retreated past the command station. Then he released the pressure. Gasping through his teeth, Pup stumbled away. At once Nick caught him by the back of his shipsuit, swung him to the side, and pulled him into the command second’s g-seat.

  Pup braced himself there with his hands on the padding down inside the arms; but Nick didn’t give him a chance to jump free. Pivoting the second’s station, he put Pup and the console between himself and the others.

  Shielded again, he rested his forearms on the back of the g-seat, his handgun propped against Pup’s head, Morn’s zone implant control poised.

  “Are you listening now?” he inquired comfortably. “Are you paying attention? I can kill you all from here if you so much as twitch. And dear old Captain Thermopile can’t sneak up behind me.” He nodded to show that he had a clear view of the companionway. “In any case, he won’t get the chance. We’re leaving.

  “Davies Hyland, you slimy little asshole”—he faced Davies squarely—“you’d better start following orders. Morn goes first if you don’t. For the last time”—without warning he broke into a shout like a scream—“disengage from dock!”

  “No.” Morn was astonished that she could speak. She was too weak to remain locked, however. And Davies needed her. All these people needed her. Nick was her problem.

  “I don’t care what happens to me. I’m useless anyway, without—” She flicked a gesture at his left hand. If she could have moved toward him, she would have done so; but she was too exhausted to let go of Vector and the g-seat.

  She’d driven Nick to this. With her lies as well as her convictions—with her false sexual abandon and her honest commitment to her son—she’d cost him his invincibility, his belief in himself. That also was expensive. Now she had to deal with the consequences.

  “Go ahead and fry me, if that’s what you want. Kill us all—try to get away on your own. Or wake up and face the truth. You’re finished.

  “The stories are over. Nick Succorso the famous swash buckling hero doesn’t exist anymore. You’ve lost your ship—you’ve lost everything. Isn’t that true, Nick?

  “Isn’t it?”

  Pup squirmed as if something in the g-seat had poked him.

  Nick responded by slapping the side of Pup’s head with the handgun. The boy slumped, so pale that he might have been about to faint.

  However, Nick had reacted without really noticing Mikka’s brother. The spasm spread across his face as if Morn had burned a nerve; he was all snarl. His eyes were as dark a
nd hidden as caves.

  Softly Morn asked, “What happened to your mission against Thanatos Minor?”

  He couldn’t refuse to answer: his loss was too great. Bitterly aggrieved, he replied, “I failed. Is that what you want to hear?” His scars looked like scabs on his cheeks. “I failed.

  “I was supposed to sabotage the Bill with that immunity drug. I was supposed to set him up with it and then substitute a fake. Destroy his credibility. That was the plan, Hashi Lebwohl’s plan. You were my failsafe. You were ruined anyway, Angus fucking Thermopile saw to that. Lebwohl let me have you so that if everything went wrong I could sell you instead of giving up the real drug.”

  He spoke like a fuel fire in a constricted space. Flames fed on themselves, mounting toward an explosion. “But that was before I saw Sorus.

  “Do you know who she is?” His eyes ached at Morn, as hungry as black holes. “Of course you don’t. I never told you her name. Sorus Chatelaine. Captain of Soar. She’s the woman who cut me.

  “As soon as I saw her, I gave up on the Bill. Let Lebwohl do his own dirty work. I went after her. I drove her off Billingate, got her out in space where she was vulnerable. Then I sent Captain’s Fancy to finish her off.”

  No one on the bridge appeared to breathe. Sweat ran unnoticed down Sib’s face. Davies sat at the command station like a knot of violence. Fear and fury struggled back and forth across Mikka’s features, paralyzing her. Vector’s blue eyes had gone wide, as if he were bemused by wonders.

  Morn watched Nick gravely, waiting for his hand to tighten; waiting for the neural apotheosis which would extinguish all the synapses of her brain; bring her responsibility for what she’d done to him to its natural end.

  “Thanks to you,” he growled viciously, “the Amnion thought they had my priority codes. They thought they could control my ship. That’s why they didn’t hit her as soon as she blew dock. And that gave Liete her chance. I set Soar up. I would have gone after her myself, if the Bill hadn’t barred me. So I took the only chance I had left. I told Liete what I wanted. I sent her to kill Sorus for me.

  “But she didn’t do it. She knew what I wanted, and she didn’t do it. I failed, all right? You goddamn women are all the same. You use me for all you’re fucking worth, and then you cut me and leave me to die.

  “It’s not going to happen again!” His cry was an echo of the lost howl with which he’d watched Liete betray him. “This time—this time—I’m going to kill every one of you who doesn’t do what I want!”

  For some reason Pup met Davies’ eyes. Through his pallor and panic, he gave Davies a tiny nod.

  “Bullshit, Nick!” Slowly, almost unthreateningly, Davies stood up from the command station. Without appearing to move, he placed himself between Nick and Morn. “You aren’t going to kill any of us. If you do, you won’t have an audience for all this self-pity. You won’t have anybody left to blame.”

  Nick flinched; his face twisted into a mask of anguish. “That does it.” His tone was pure bloodshed. “You’re first.”

  Leaning over the top of the g-seat, he aimed his gun at Davies’ face.

  As frantic as a convulsion, Pup brought up a stun-prod no bigger than a dagger and stabbed it into Nick’s armpit.

  That close to his heart the stun-prod had enough impact to knock him to the deck in a pile of dissociated limbs and spasms.

  Burning forward, Mikka snatched Pup out of the g-seat and hauled him back.

  Like the stroke of a piston, Davies drove at Nick: he kicked the handgun out of reach, grabbed up Morn’s black box. For a moment he crouched over Nick’s twitching, unconscious form as if he intended to break his neck.

  “Davies,” Morn panted, “don’t!”

  Then she seemed to run out of transitions.

  Between one heartbeat and the next, she found herself on the deck in Vector’s arms.

  Without leaving Nick, Davies appeared at her side.

  Unexpected and unannounced, Angus swung down the companionway rails onto the bridge.

  He’d removed his helmet, but he still wore his EVA suit. Streaks of dried sweat grimed his face; his eyes bulged as if he were in the last stages of dehydration.

  She blinked once, and several people were in different positions. A voice which might have been Angus’ demanded water. Pup was gone. Woozy with stun, Nick climbed to his feet. Sib had retrieved the handgun: he held it in both fists, pointing it at his former captain. Angus sat at the command station. Mikka stood in front of him with her mouth open.

  “Tell me later,” he said. His tone was raw with thirst. “We’re leaving right now.”

  She pointed at the display screens.

  He nodded brusquely.

  “Find cabins,” he ordered. “We’re going to burn in about five minutes. The g-seals on the bunks are your only protection.

  “Davies, for God’s sake, put her to sleep. She’s in withdrawal—it could kill her. And hard g triggers her gap-sickness. Take her to a cabin. Stay with her. I’ll tell you when it’s safe to wake her up.”

  At the edges of her vision, Morn saw Davies raise her black box and peer at the function labels.

  You know as much about it as I do, she tried to say. All you have to do is remember. But she couldn’t speak. Her failures welled up from the bottom of her heart. She’d endured too much—was in too much need. She lasted long enough to see Pup hurry down the companionway carrying a g-flask for Angus; long enough to hear Mikka order Sib and Vector off the bridge.

  Then Davies touched buttons, and she fell into darkness as if it were the gap between her abilities and her desires.

  ANGUS

  ngus emptied the g-flask while he watched Davies carry Morn up the companionway. He wanted to go himself; wanted to hold her in his own arms for a while. Her condition still brought glints of fury and grief past the control of his zone implants. His desire to kill Nick had settled in as if it were the definitive passion of his life. But of course his programming wouldn’t let him harm anyone connected with the UMCP. And he had too many other threats to juggle—

  The new countdown running in his head left no room for mistakes.

  He could pull data from Trumpet’s logs faster than Mikka could put it into words. A glance or two told him why Morn, Nick, and the others were still alive—why Captain’s Fancy and Tranquil Hegemony didn’t appear on the display screen in front of him. He couldn’t understand what had possessed Captain’s Fancy to sacrifice herself like that. At the moment, however, he didn’t need to understand: the fact itself was enough.

  Two less threats to worry about. That left Calm Horizons, Soar, and the Amnion shuttle. It left Gambler’s Luck, Free Lunch, and at least half a dozen other ships trying to get out of trouble by breaking away from dock.

  It left the countdown.

  He needed help. He could run Trumpet indefinitely on his own: he was built for that. But he and his ship would stand a better chance if he had help.

  Sib Mackern and Vector Shaheed had already gone to find cabins where they could ride out heavy g. Davies would stay with Morn. That left Mikka Vasaczk, Ciro—and Nick.

  His thirst was too fierce to be assuaged by one g-flask. Nevertheless his zone implants enabled him to ignore his craving for more water. His computer had concluded that he was no longer in immediate danger from dehydration.

  Mikka was the obvious choice. She was Nick’s second; already trained. But Angus didn’t trust Nick out of his sight—

  Ignoring the possibility that anyone who was taken by surprise might fall and get hurt, he tapped thrust. A hard jolt rang through the ship as he blew the docking clamps and ripped Trumpet free from Billingate’s cables.

  Mikka caught herself on the front of the command console; Ciro grabbed at his sister’s shoulders. Nick staggered, nearly lost his balance. His eyes were glazed, and his mouth hung slack; stun still confused his neurons.

  Angus grinned at the thought that someone had found Milos’ weapon and used it on Nick.

  “You two get
out of here,” he told Mikka and Ciro. “You haven’t got much time—I want you safe.

  “You,” he cracked like a lash at Nick. “You’re my second. Sit down and get to work.”

  Protest flared on Mikka’s face. With an effort, she smothered it. “Come on,” she growled at her brother’s alarm. “Angus can handle Nick. If the two of them can’t get us out of here, we were never going to make it anyway.”

  Ciro brandished Milos’ stun-prod in Nick’s direction, warning him; then followed Mikka off the bridge.

  Nick ignored the boy. He was blinking rapidly at Angus, trying to focus his eyes.

  Angus keyed attitudinal thrust, orienting Trumpet along a departure trajectory toward Calm Horizons. As the ship pulled slowly away, Thanatos Minor’s g eased.

  “I said—” he rasped.

  “I heard you,” Nick panted. “I’ll do it. Give me a minute.”

  Breathing hard to clear his head, he leaned into the second’s g-seat. His hands fumbled as he attached his belt.

  “What am I supposed to do?”

  Angus toggled controls. “You’ve got helm. Scan data is on the screens. I’ll do the rest.” Simultaneously he brought up targ and communications. “Run us out on a heading for Calm Horizons. No more than one g.

  “Evade if anyone fires. Use as much thrust as you need. Otherwise stay on a slow intercept course for that warship.”

  The countdown clicked ahead like a timing fuse. Nick rubbed his hands over his eyes, ground the heels of his palms into his scars. A moment later a surge of acceleration tugged Angus against the back of his seat as Nick heated the thruster tubes.

  The pressure stabilized near one g. Nick typed a subtle correction. Almost at once the scan plot on the screen showed Trumpet moving in a straight line for Calm Horizons.

  Good. Maybe Nick was smart enough to realize that if he didn’t take orders now he wouldn’t live long enough to get a second chance.

  Trumpet’s guns were charged, but Angus didn’t intend to use them if he could avoid it: he didn’t want to be caught in a fight here. Instead, despite the drain on thrust, he activated her shields—energy screens to absorb impact fire; particle sinks to protect against matter cannon. Then he keyed his console pickup and began hailing Calm Horizons.